Children are running up and down the carriages, the fans are creaking, it’s really quite uncomfortably hot by now but - still - it’s not the worst journey I’ve ever undertaken in Asia (think livestock being dumped in my lap in Malaysia, or the kid that threw up on my backpack, long ago in Java). Nevertheless, the idea of air con is distinctly appealing and I’m already dreaming of arriving at my fancy pad in Sathorm (cat sitting for a week week, in a bourgeois part of Bangkok, staying in a fancy apartment with a concierge and swimming pool to boot…)

I keep drinking water, and every time a local seller alights the train at one of the numerous stops we’re making, I buy a fruit juice, a can of soda or a coconut water.  The sun is a beast in this part of the world and dehydration can be miserable.

By 2pm, my eyelids are drooping, like many other passengers, and despite my best efforts to read a few pages, I’m constantly nodding off, waking up only when the train gives an occasional jerk.  

Inspired by a few bloggers who’ve written about their train journeys from Laos to Bangkok, I decide that this is what I’m going to do.  I have a book, a diary, and time to spare.  And Thai trains (from my previous experience) are really not that bad.  Throwing caution to the wind, I decide to travel via Khon Kaen (a university city) and Nakhon Ratchasima (not known for anything in particular)  And I’m going to ride on local trains…after all, they’re cheap, run regularly and I’m bound to have my curiosity piqued.  

This place is perfect someone like myself (who loves antiques, vintage markets, thrift stores and junk shops) to explore. It is cornucopia of treasures - old typewriters, vintage teapots, Dutch clogs, a ‘casino style’ card machine, a mannequin adorned with flower garlands, old tv sets, a ‘wooden bicycle’ and a bust of a Thai politician (who he was I have no idea)...

I arrive with moments to spare at the Chang Rai bus station and as I walk in I see the local bus pulling out. I stick out my hand and, amazingly, it stops, and the conductress pulls me on, along with my heavy backpack. It’s full of locals, and there’s only one other tourist - a guy called Liad who, as fate would have it, is also from Israel and lives not 4 km from me! We drive along a pretty well-paved road, passing paddy fields and palm trees, staring at small Thai farms and watch locals get on and off at villages along with livestock and huge bowls of noodles…

I feel no need to engage in tourist activities, such as visiting an (ethical?) Elephant Sanctuary or partake in a cookery class.  I check myself into a great little place which is family-run and has comfy bedding and air-con (all for the princely sum of $15 per night) and spend my time walking in the backstreets, eating Pad Thai day after day from a tiny spot with a few tables where you point to the picture on the menu and an old woman proceeds to make it in front of you…