Scenery rushing past our train window
I lie awake thinking of Christmas nights passed. In SOuth Africa they are spent floating in a cool swimming pool, drinking with family and friends.In London spent in the warm indoors playing charades and cards, laughing over mulled wine. This Thai one was spent in a 1930s train with the noises of 40 other poor, unfortunate passengers in various states of sleep.
This was not what we had envisaged - we were promised a first class sleeper cabin, know we knew to take this with a pinch of salt but no one had mentioned industrial air con and flourescent lighting, the uncanny resemblance of our bunks to prison cells or the long drop toilet that probably had its last clean when Thailand was still Siam. We were not lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the locomotive, but prevented from it in a cruel form of torture which included screeching, grinding and frequent sudden stops. And so it came to pass that we spent Christmas night eating nachos and haribos, anti bacterialing everything and laughing hysterically at our own misfortune.
This was not what we had envisaged - we were promised a first class sleeper cabin, know we knew to take this with a pinch of salt but no one had mentioned industrial air con and flourescent lighting, the uncanny resemblance of our bunks to prison cells or the long drop toilet that probably had its last clean when Thailand was still Siam. We were not lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the locomotive, but prevented from it in a cruel form of torture which included screeching, grinding and frequent sudden stops. And so it came to pass that we spent Christmas night eating nachos and haribos, anti bacterialing everything and laughing hysterically at our own misfortune.
In my prison bunk After finally nodding off in the early hours we were unceremoniously pulled from slumber with shouts of wake up wake upand made aware that we were running 2 hours late... And so we had more time with the cackling staff who were having a party in the seats next to ours.
By the time we got off we were eagerly anticipating our Samui hideaway, the ocean and some clean sheets. But our limbo was to continue for a further 3 hours: Bus, Ferry, Minibus. And so ended the intermeniable journey, with a happy ending like all good fairy tales. Secret Garden is a paradise - palm trees, white sand, a gently rolling ocean. The gardens are humming with butterflies and secret buddahs sit around cool ponds choked with water lilies. We ordered our first real meal since Christmas, a couple of cocktails and everything else dissapeared. Sometimes life is about the destination and you have to do your damndest to forget the journey.
And so later, as we wallowed in the wonderful sea water, our hair spread out about us like mermaids, we saw a plane landing in the distance... Why the fuck didn't we fly?!
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