(Vientiane, Laos to Bangkok, Thailand)
Good evening from Penang in northern Malaysia where I am stuck for eight hours because of interesting border procedures and delays getting out of Thailand, which were not nearly as interesting as getting back INTO Thailand last Sunday after the very lethargic week in Laos.
So the booked transfer from Vientiane to the one railway station in Laos (just inside Laos at the end of the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong River into Thailand) seemed a little late. The hotel didn't know who was booked for the transfer. The travel company had omitted to tell me also, apart from assuring me that at 4.15 I would be picked up, delivered to the station which was "close by" and I would make it into Thailand at Nong Kai station in time to get into my sleeping berth on the overnight train to Bangkok.
Good plan.
So at a bit after 4.30 the hotel suggested I pay 300 Thai Baht (a fortune in Laos) to take me to the train. As they were bundling me into the back of a van they encouraged me by saying: "You will miss your train but maybe Travel Indochina will give you a refund?"
"Close by" was 35 minutes of avoiding closed streets in downtown Vientiane because they were tree trimming, deviating along the very scenic riverfront traffic jam past the huge public aerobics classes, dodging joggers, sellers and autorickshaws, then along many kilometers of divided road and paved surface (a rarity for Laos) as carefully as the driver could do it.
"Fast is slow' in Asia: the faster you try to do stuff, the slower the process becomes... I "relaxed" and "enjoyed the experience" in the back of the van.
Right on 5pm we chugged under the Friendship Bridge On Ramp, took a left turn along a rutted red dirt road, and rounded the corner to the level crossing, where the bells and lights were belling and lighting, and where"my' little diesel train puttered past, climbing the bridge towards Thailand.
Several thoughts were going through my mind at this point. The only one I said out loud was: "Friendship Bridge?"
Driver: "Friendship Bridge!"
... as he swerved a U turn into a cloud of dust and charged back to the main road and under the bridge (and passing train) and fanged a right through the "Welcome to Laos" archway to drop me at the border checkpoint. I had about an hour and a quarter to get through one border, get over the bridge, gain entry to Thailand, then find Nong Kai and its station.
Not a problem(!)
300 Baht lighter I dragged self and bag to the Laos border checkpoint. Here I discovered:
a) myself at the end of a line of 20 something American backpackers who had no clue and were asking dumb questions of their guide and generally being Loud and American.
and
b) having to pay an exit fee (actually called an Overstay Fine) in Lao Kip, of which I could find none. Fast is slow... I stayed in amongst the learned helplessness of the Americans, smiled at the nice Immigration officer, paid an extortinate fee in Thai Baht, then headed to queue (Americans again), got stamped, and walked towards the Bridge. Pausing to pay 20 Baht for a bus over the Bridge (which would be along "soon"...) and waiting, a friendly tout sized me up (correctly) and offered to drive me over the bridge, through the Thai border posts and to the station for 200 Baht.
It was 45 minutes to train departure time.
Why not?
He then disappeared for some minutes, and reappeared in a battered van at the bus queue. As there were no Americans in front, the Lao and Thais let me through with knowing smiles, and I climbed in.
We roared over the bridge, just slowly enough to read the signs thanking Australia for the foreign aid to build the thing, and jammed brakes at the Thai checkpoint.
"Leave your bag with me" said the helpful tout.
"Not bloody likely!" thought self.
To get into Thailand, one needs to fill in an entry AND exit form. None was available. They were actually "in" Thailand, inside the immigration checkpoint. By the time I'd worked this out, the Americans landed around me. Treating them fairly disrespectfully as skittles in my way, I grabbed the form and found a queue to stand in while filling it in.
It seems that 20ish Americans on organised backpacker sightseeings in the Third World cannot understand how to tick boxes and fill in both sides of the form. The queue jammed to a halt as their long suffering guide checked all their forms and showed them how to tick a box and write a hotel address and how/where to sign their name.
25 minutes to the train’s departure.
Fast is slow.
I stood at the end of the backpacker conga line and "enjoyed the experience"...
They were let through as a group with the Thai Immigration Officer fast-tracking their mugshots on his dinky little camera with a 'I don't give a bugger" look on his not-so-smiling face - then it was my turn: very swift, then to customs: Bag open Sir?... cursory but another delay. (Fast is slow...)
The smiling van man was there to grab bag and self, bundle it and me into the back, and deliver me all of the 800 metres round the corner to Nong Kai station.
He was happy with his outrageous fee. I was glad of the help.
On the station, 30 wheelchair schoolkids on excursion were being loaded onto the train. They were having the BEST time on the railway forklift as it hoisted them up into the door (because you have to climb into Thai trains from low platforms).
Once on the train, Thai efficiency kicked in: beer arrived, dinner was ordered and arrived at my seat soon after leaving, and breakfast in my berth was arranged for the morning.
And the train, as with all Thai long distance trains I have travelled on over the last week, arrived more than 2 hours late.
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I won't go into travelogues about Thailand but I was based in Bangkok in Chinatown and managed to get out of the city most days. The third class train to Nam Tok and back (travelling over the River Kwai Bridge then up into the mountains along the Death Railway to near the Burmese border, just short of Hellfire Pass) was a great day out. It's back to train travel before they nailed the windows shut and imposed air conditioning: where you hear and smell and see (and even touch) the scenery, before arriving back into Bangkok (two and a half hours late) covered in sweat and grime and diesel exhaust. Many tourists clamber on and off for short rides through the really scenic sections, including one small group of giggling Japanese women with their tattoed Japanese guide. Knowing how little they are taught about issues such as POW abuse, you do wonder what they get out of the nice short trip along the river. Every cutting has obviously been hand made using basic picks and shovels. There are memorials along the way but not enough...
After much grumbling, burping and shedding of oily black smoke, the diesel engine did "fail to progress" on the hill into Nam Tok. Handbrakes were applied along the train. Much tapping and spraying of water seemed to happen as 5 men hammered the engine's black bits, then we continued on. Spending the night somewhere like Nam Tok is not really an option.
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Spending the night here in Penang was actually looking like an option earlier in the day when I missed my Malaysian train connection to Kuala Lumpur by hours. And it was all because of fun and games getting OUT of Thailand.
At one stage, the Thai train looked almost like arriving within an hour of timetable. It was not to be: many stops and starts happened in the last two kilometers to the attractive white, barbed-wire brick wall which is the border into Malaysia. The crew quickly bundled us off the train at Padang Besar station and we waited on the hot platform, being glowered at by a middle aged Malay woman in blue uniform with many medals and decorations, and piano-keyboard black and white teeth. She stayed in the nice air conditioning. We were clumped outside in the growing humidity. This lasted 40 long minutes until the door opened and a Thai immigration officer, all smiles, worked his way through the crowd checking that we all had our departure cards. He was then swallowed up by the big glass doors and joined the Glowereing One. Behind them, the problem became clear: the northbound train had arrived first (being eficient and Malay, not stop-start and Thai) and the whole trainload of passengers had to be cleared before we would be let in to the maze. Behind the glass doors, and the uniformed officials, two swarthy middle aged blokes were in a pitched argument with the Thai officials. It was extensive and intensive. It was also holding up TWO trainloads of passengers. After more animation (from the swarthy ones) and passive smiles (from the Thais), the Swarthy Ones were invited into an office and we were led away...
Fast is slow: each of we passengers then enjoyed 5 or more minutes of stamping and staring from the Thais, then sidled round the corner to be fingerprinted (Welcome to Malaysia) and then to enjoy a full bag search.
Three hours late into Penang: not a problem.
Outside is wailing Indian music and the promise of wondrous food before I walk back to the sea front to take a ferry to Butterworth Station. The crumbling Chinese shop houses remain and you have to eat Chinese or Indian if you wish alcohol in this interesting Muslim country. Then its another night in a curtained off shelf of a second class sleeping berth.
I just hope my deodorant holds out til morning.