Tense and slow the ride began. The deep-seated apprehension gripping me must have matched the feeling that a minnow experiences when it first leaves the verdant shelter of an algae bloom and swims into open waters. That cozy green quarter of Bangkok had, in an hour and a half, become my safe space away from the potential dangers of the road. It all melted away in an instant. Neighborhood alleys gave way to neighborhood thoroughfares and so on, each subsequent avenue streaming into the pulsing arteries of the city. We were headed for the heart; two precarious vessels bound to enter the wild mix of motorists. Senses fine-tuned in an instant. Fingers flexed and unflexed against the left-hand shifter in tandem with the right hand’s throttling and unthrottling. The bike responded accordingly, moving between cars and toward Hua Lamphong. Thais are not a careful driving people, generally speaking, but they are very alert on the road. The prevalence of motorbikes and scooters also makes the average driver much more aware of two wheeled vehicles. Unlike driving in the US or UK where motorcyclists are scorned, Thais respect the two-wheeled commuter. When everyone on the road has either ridden or owns their own bike or moped the appreciation for bikers naturally increases. So when my motorcycle stalled twice in the standstill there was no thundering of horns or angry shouts. Certain drivers even go so far as to adjust their cars to make more room for bikers passing through the deadlock. That understanding doesn’t necessary make up for the general disregard for traffic rules or the poor quality of infrastructure suffered throughout much of the country, however. Roads routinely get paved unevenly, leaving treacherous lips that can easily down unsuspecting drivers; potholes pervade many roadways, and dirt and gravel are regularly strewn over patches of asphalt. Fortunately, the money that runs through Bangkok tends to keep their streets better paved and maintained than many places. Another factor at play in the city (and on all major expressways throughout the country) is the prohibition of all motorbikes. Whether you ride a 1200cc street bike or a sputtering little scooter you cannot take the expressway. Those are reserved strictly for cars and trucks. Bikers must take the frontage roads – streets that run parallel to the expressways and typically run a bit more slowly. These are also open to cars. For the inexperienced biker, that’s not such a bad thing: stay out of the way of the most aggressive traffic and still get to where you need to go. The challenge for two people unfamiliar with the frontage roads was managing to follow them correctly as the Google maps voice issued unclear commands with only seconds to spare. Our arrival at Hua Lamphong proved nothing short of a kiss-the-earth moment. Waves of adrenaline washed over me, slowly ebbing as my feet paced the area outside of the train station. Laughter issued from K.C. and me; the mood was victorious. The first, and in my mind the greatest hurdle had been overcome. If we could navigate the insanity of Bangkok and not go down in a wreck of steel and concrete, then hell, we could navigate anything. There were still things to take care of though. First, we needed to pick up our tickets that were being held across the street with a third party provider. That was easily done. Next we had to see that our bikes were loaded onto the train’s cargo. It cost approximately 1,200 Thai Baht (THB) per bike, or roughly thirty-five dollars to load. Our research also told us that it was wise to grease the palms of the loading-dock workers to make sure the bikes were loaded carefully. We each passed the fellow taking care of us 100 baht and rested easy knowing the bikes were cared for. Hua Lamphong rail station is a beautiful, if somewhat dated structure. The faded gold and white façade feels bizarrely European for Bangkok. A pair of squat structures set with Doric columns and block modillions flank the hangar-like station whose stain-glass paned face sits behind the covered, columned terrace linking the pair of gold-white blocks.
Mario Tamagno, an Italian-born architect, fashioned the station in Neo-Renaissance style, which was popular at the time of construction in 1916. European airs dissipate quickly upon entering the gritty, rustic atmosphere, however. Barking cabbies throng about the main entrance to hail bewildered tourists emerging from the platform. Scores of loiterers shamble through the open terrace or lay around the steps or with their backs to the walls and columns. Car exhaust swirls through the outer terrace, mixing with the sweat of thousands of bodies and the oily odor of pork satay, grilled skewers, sizzling over charcoal. The air is heavy with more than heat, humidity, and the reek of steaming bodies; the weight of one hundred years of people in motion saturates the warm terminal. Natural sunlight seeps through the windows above the seating area where hundreds wait in purple chairs for their train to arrive. Orange robed monks old and young congregate on wooden benches in their designated area in the front right of the hall, under the proud guise of King Rama V, the man who staved off European imperial powers and preserved Siam’s sovereignty. Along the upper balcony, jutting out from the wrought iron railing, the Thai Royal Family’s flags hang alongside the country’s colors. Above that, running around the entire building are bright mural collages of Thai images: elephants, jungles, temples, and Buddha depictions. These scenes are easily overlooked as most travelers keep to their phones or their companions and the departure screen. Food vendors, coffee shops, a Thai food court, and even a convenience store ring the seating area and cater to the thousands that patiently wait. Everywhere there are bodies, sitting, shuffling, laying, standing. Only when a body moves through to the platform, underneath King Rama V does one find a relative pocket of tranquility and empty space. The terminal platform stretches out from the dim cover to the brightness of the outdoor afternoon. A few travelers mill up and down the aisles and a single custodian makes her rounds back and forth with her mop. The trains belong to another era; old burgundy carriages striped with mustard yellow bands, which appear oddly quaint and nostalgic, especially in Bangkok. They run well enough, if slowly. We finally boarded the number five train, Bangkok to Chiang Mai, which departed at 18:10. Thirty minutes after she was due to roll out of Bangkok, the train’s wheels grinded into action and we churned out of the capital city.
2 Comments
John Connell
1/1/2017 07:35:22
Thanks for a great read, Collier. All senses engaged, especially smell, which is tricky on January 1 with a hangover that befits the day. I'm so glad that I didn't know in this kind of detail the hazards that you and K.C. faced in your maiden voyage.
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Tina Feeley
1/1/2017 18:28:41
Collier thank you for your colorful depiction of your biking adventures with KC in Thailand! I am enjoying each post and am also learning new things about Thailand's rich history!👍😘
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Collier ConnellA traveler gone to teach English in Thailand who is far less interested in himself than the fascinating people, places, and things I'm ready to encounter. Archives
December 2016
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