A real Thai brekkie is essential on a travel day. Last bowl of noodles in Bangkok.
The way deliveries get made in Bangkok. Four wheels are a disadvantage here.
Ready to ride the Thai rails, we ducked through the MRT station and popped up on the far side of the chaos of Rama V. Hua Lumpong (one spelling of many) is the main railway station in Bangkkok. Two third class seats to Nakhon Ratchasima were 200 Baht each for the non-aircon 5.5 hour trip. Second class is nicer, but the aircon will usually freeze one to death. Besides, the vendors are more fun in 3rd.
If you need a quick trim and brush up, the Thai barbers can take care of you trackside.
Third class is the way to go, although the seats are a bit stiff. You remembered your inflatable butt pad, the one I'm always going on about, right?
Koran, or Khorat, or Nakon Ratchasima (pronounced Ko-Lhat) is north and east of Bangkok. It really does have two names, one being the old, one being the new. This city of about 500,000 lies at the gateway to the plains of Isaan, just over the spine of mountains that separate the Big Mango from the northeast. There is a strong Khmer and Laotian cultural influence here, which is reflected in the language and the food. And Oh!, The Food!! More on that in a bit.
Ayuttaya, the first main temple city outside of Bangkok. I stayed here on my very first trip to Thailand.
The train chugs through Bangkok. And chugs through Bangkok. And... One-and-a-half hours later, the countryside opens up as we near Ayuttaya. It takes more than an hour one way to get to the outskirts of Bangkok. By car it could be all day. That's how big the Big Mango is. Roughly ten percent of the Thai population lives in Bangkok, at least part time. Riding out of the city by rail, a traveler can see the hard edges of the city. There are rows of shanty towns set up to the very edge of the rail line. Anywhere there is public land, such as under a freeway overpass or along the train tracks, there are whole compounds made of packing crates, corrugated metal and old signs. Many folks from the north and the northeast flood into Bangkok after the rice is harvested in late October or November. They come to the city to work the jobs created by the busy tourist season of November, December and January. When ther tourists go home in Feburary, they return to their fields to start the process of burning the scrub and planting new crops. March can get very, very smoky up north.
The train rolls slowly up the mountains, the Diesel engine throws little black smuts through the the open windows, the vendors ply the rocking aisles, selling everything from chicken on a stick to noodles and cold drinks. People sleep, the train rocks, the conductor double-checks our tickets when we don't get off in Ayuttaya.
Thai rail lines are narrow gauge, so narrow gauge in fact that one wonders how the cars stay on the tracks. This is a legacy of the British, along with driving on the wonky side of the road. Eventually we pull into Khorat. Then there is the long sweaty walk-about to find the guesthouse. After several wrong turns, false starts, and one backtrack, I left My One and the packs at a nice cafe and set off one more time. Nuttin. Okay, I found a Moto taxi guy who, for 20 baht, solved my problem by taking me up the tiny alley I had passed at least three times. I gave him 30 baht, goodwill and smiles all around. Once again, Thai locations : One. Marco finding same : Zero. Showered and rested, we ventured out as evening set on.
The statue and shrine to Ya Mo, the bad-ass wife of a local governor who, in the 1800's, roused the locals to fight against the Lao invaders. Recent historians have written that maybe her heroic efforts have been a bit overplayed by the Thai Nationalists of the time, but the people of Khorat revere her memory. Day and night, folks leave flowers and incense at her memorial.
Wait, didn't I mention food? That's all there is to talk about in this wonderful town. There is not a lot to do here. The old city is surrounded by a moat. Walking inside the old city is not much different than walking outside. So, no real sights to mention accept for our bad-ass patroness Ya Mo.
Pick-a-pot in the darkened confines of the covered market. Night has fallen and we are eating with the locals. A few words of Thai are essential here. On the other hand, one can just guess and point at what looks yummy. And it all looks yummy.
Once you have your bowl, plop yourself at the bar and start throwing on the greens and fresh vege.
So, we have a stewed curry chicken leg, a fiery fish curry over rice noodles, and a pile of vege to aid the digestion. This feast of home-cooking will set a hungry traveller back 40 baht, about $1.15 by today's exchange.
And no evening is complete without fried dumpling pocket things. Pumpkin, bean, vege something and corn, we had a mixed bag of yummy fried treats for dessert. And that, dear friends, was that. From the gateway to Isaan, I turn my tired hands away from my keyboard and towards My One. As always Friends and Neighbors, I bid you Ciao for Now!
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