Making Tracks

We had heard rumours that the sleeper train to Chiang Mai wouldn't actually involve much sleeping. The route had a reputation for being a party train, so as we pulled out of Hualamphong Station we readied ourselves for a fun night. 

As it turned out, our train wasn't very lively at all. This became most apparent when a stern faced woman ssshhhed me as I tried to whisper to Nick across the carriage. Not exactly party central! Which was probably not a bad thing as it would take us about 16 hours to rattle our way some 400 hundred miles north to the ancient city of Chiang Mai.

We all had top bunks and slept surprisingly well considering the constant fear of falling on unsuspecting passers by. Ironically, I was woken by the woman who had ssshhhed me the night before. I resisted ssssshhhhing her and clambered ungainly down the ridiculously narrow ladder to find a window seat.

It was a while before the other two awoke, so I sat reading a book and watched the Thai landscape go by. The concrete jungle of busy Bangkok had been left behind and replaced by a real jungle.

We eventually pulled in to Chiang Mai just after lunchtime on Sunday. Our next task was to locate our hotel. In hindsight, Nick or I should've taken the lead and instructed our taxi where to go, but instead we sat and had a fit of giggles as Steve, who was suffering the affects of a chest infection and little sleep, did battle with a very shouty local lady. Steve persisted, even after the lady had asked where our hotel was for the forth or fifth time, but it soon became apparent that the lady, nor the henpecked driver had a clue where our homestay was. Rather than add a headache to Steve's list of ailments, we hopped off and let the over enthusiastic Thai lady shout at some bewildered French backpackers instead.

After a bit of food we were reinvigorated and found our lodgings: a small homestay run by a lovely Korean couple who informed us that we were their first booking.

That evening we joined the crowds at the Sunday market which filled the streets inside the old city walls with hundreds of stalls selling beautiful handicrafts and dodgy sunglasses. I'm not sure that if you asked Steve, he would have any recollection of the night - he was there in body, but not in spirit. In fact, as Nick and I drooled over local street food, Steve managed to slump on a table and fall to sleep.

We'd only caught a glimpse of Chiang Mai that day, but from what we had seen we knew we'd enjoy our time here.