We go up and down a flight of metal stairs that descend into the middle of four lanes of traffic a couple of times then decide it must be the right place. The signs to the bus terminal at Don Mueang airport, Bangkok, are not the best but there appears to be a bus shelter in the distance!
My directions say we can catch the 555 to our guesthouse. We wait in hot sun next to scorched tarmac choking on diesel fumes. Eventually, we get onboard only to learn from the clippy, via a school girl with Google maps that we’re on the wrong bus. They kindly put us out further down the road for no charge and advise getting the 95. Turns out the 95 is free which is nice and an English-speaking local tells us when to hop off. We head for a nearby tourist information desk for guidance or perhaps a map but learn there’s yet one more bus ride. We’re kicked off at the end of the line and start walking until a shopkeeper comes to our rescue with instruction to the guesthouse.
Three wise monkeys, Golden Mount, Bangkok.
I’d pre-ordered combined train and ferry tickets to Koh Tao online and needed to collect them from an office opposite Hualamphong train station. Once collected we hop in a tuk-tuk to the Golden Mount. It’s a small hill that rises from the streets and at its pinnacle is Wat Sraket. The steps wind their way around and up passing various statues and collections of bells. Central in the temple are several images of the Buddha all covered in flaky gold leaf. One small shrine is for fortune telling. People first pray, between their hands they hold a box that contains 28 numbered pencils. As they pray they shake the box backwards and forwards until a pencil falls out then refer to a poster that tells the fortunes that relate to each individual number on their pencil.
Bells on the Golden Mount, Bangkok.
Flags at the top of the Golden Mount, Bangkok.
We spend the rest of the day wandering up, down and around Khoa San Road where Carole buys a new hat. We eat then listen to some live music before deciding to head back. I planned to use the canal boat but had missed the last departure and end up in a taxi. The price negotiation is inconclusive at best and gets more confusing when the driver says he has to pay 50 baht (£1) for a toll road. Unconvinced we’re even going in the right direction we keeping questioning him. With relief we climb from the taxi outside the guesthouse after a 30 minute drive.
We waited about 40 minutes for the 113 to take us to the station. It was hot and our backpacks heavy. We grabbed a couple of seats at the front then checked with the clippy that the bus was going to Hualamphong. I’d been listening carefully to the locals and thought I’d perfected the pronunciation. She looked back at me blankly, said something to the driver then I repeated, ‘Hualamphong’. A helpful chap offered his notebook and I scribbled it down. He turned to the bus full of curious passengers and announced, ‘Hualamphong!’ which brought laughter from everyone. I smiled back although I didn’t get the joke – perhaps I was the butt of it – and took comfort in being on the right bus.
Everyone loves the Khoa San Road, Bangkok.
The station was busy, lots of people sat on mats laid out on the tiled marble floor. Monks and novices have specially reserved carved wooden benches. Prompt at 6 o’clock a policeman appeared and blew a shrill peep on his whistle then instructed everyone present, including us, to stand. Moments later the national anthem played. Afterwards the officer went to a man who’d ignored the command and ushered him out of the station.
We walk down the smokey platform and board the train. Fantastic! I’m sitting opposite a monk, he’s booked the berth above me for the journey. I offer him an Oreo but he respectfully declines in English. Ok, so now I know he might speak my language, what can I say to him? What are you allowed to ask a monk and will I even get an answer I’ll understand? Are there standard questions that he always gets asked? Did he know David Carradine (before he committed suicide in Bangkok)? Is his name Grasshopper? Or will he roll his eyes and pretend not to understand?
I never get to find the answer as soon after the train rolls out of the station the beds are unrolled in our car. The monk disappears behind his curtain never to be seen again. My search for enlightenment continues!