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We're up and ready for the 8am slow boat. The slow boat isn't ready for us and when it is our shore to ferry taxi is doing something else so it moves on. It'll come back, they say. Which it does but it's not until nearly nine that it's finally collected all its passengers and even then a taxi meets us ten minutes out in the channel. A very quiet ride back, no hint of rollercoasting, which is good as we're in the bow perched on top of the luggage along with a dozen other people. Then there's the passengers at the back. Overcrowded? Non.

Helen's off first, wobbling precariously between and across the next boat and then onto the half destroyed concrete steps to the fixed jetty. Doing better than me, though. We fell into the first taxi who knew the English phrase, "Thai border?" and we're off. More of the Malaysian driving which seems to be a carefree artform which seems to be about gentle curving arcs oblivious to the nitty gritty of road markings, oncoming traffic, etc..

The border is a fairly busy place traffic-wise with a few pedestrian crossers. It's a hot day today and the 200m walk across the river from immigration to immigration seems like an age. Annoyingly, the Thais staple the departure card to the passport. The 1km walk to the station is a real drag, though. We step into a shady park for the last 200m only to find ourselves fenced in at the end. Cue two heavily burdened travellers falling over the park fence to the pavement five feet below.

Thailand reminds me of Tokyo in that there's almost no English translations around. The script is a sort of Arabic/Tolkien's Dwarvish runes mix and you're mostly left to guess what's being said. Fortunately the ticket man was an English speaker and we exchanged some spare Ringgit for Baht and bought two tickets to Hat Yai for B86 each (B45 to US$1) about US$2 for a 3.5 hour journey. He directed us to take any seat on the adjacent train. Fully open windows, simple fan in the roof, basic wooden bench seats: authentic travel.

We headed up through what I woud describe as jungle, occaisionally interspersed with rice fields. Most of the housing is corrugated iron tumbledown shacks. Any piece of scrap is used to add to the montage. Quite African in that sense but much more corrugated iron. Like Malaysia, rarely, an absolutely pristine two storey white house with a red tile roof and dark windows with dark wood surrounds and doors peeps out, [awful English!] in complete contrast to the dereliction around. What's different are the Wats (or temples) which are uniformly fabulous creations. On an oblong base they stretch up two or three storeys and have a three tiered, squashed pagoda style roof. They are painted white with red tile roofs and then are glittering with gold, ornaments and glittering things.

Having stopped at almost every station on the way, at Yala we're left alone on the train. Fortunately a guard informs us that we have to change. We got on to the adjacent carriage and we're about to sit when a guy looks at our ticket and shakes his head, points at the sign saying "car #3" and waves his hand way down the train. Hmm, our ticket does say car #14. Car #14 is a long way down, the platform ran out at car #9, the third class signs started around then too. We're at the end of the last car, third class. Well, they were cheap tickets.

After a stupid moment with some kids who, having sat in our seats for most of the journey complained to the guard we were sitting in theirs (he ignored them -- and he was carrying a gun) we arrived at Hat Yai and were immediately cornered by a tut-tut [tuk-tuk!] driver who took us 800m down the road to a bus ticket office not the bus station. Still, for B20 it was better than walking. We were sold B290 tickets in a minivan to Krabi which seemed OK. The only problem was the other passengers only seemed to pay about B120 cash. Tourist price, I guess. We had a nice lunch in the recommended Sugar Rock Cafe almost next door which only cost B120 -- bisuits and water at the station had cost B100.

At a toilet/food stop I bought a lighter so that we could start burning the mosquito coils we've been lugging. As I played with it (having never bought one before!) burning my thumb in the process, I was taken aback when the driver came over to borrow it then offered me a fag. I politely declined. Saying I didn't smoke would have just looked stupid.

In Krabi at 9:30 we were dropped off at the City Hotel (a name plucked from the Lonely Planet) which was full. They suggested we go round the cornet to the Hollywood -- luckily the minivan driver took us. We just accepted the air con room. Thailand is an hour behind Malaysia and so at nearly ten we'd been travelling for 15 hours, the longest pause being half an hour in Hat Yai. It didn't seem that long but a couple of beers showed it was. We scoffed a quick meal and went to bed.

There is a problem, though, the room is nice enough but it's [a] shared toilet/shower which is OK (mind you it's a Western toilet but you still have to slop water from a bucket down the bowl -- a funny [peculiar], inefficient, dirty business when you're not used to it). The problem is that there's no wash basin. The only tap we can find is the one to fill the bucket at the side of the toilet bowl and as if to confirm it, over the bowl is a small shelf with a mirror and two toothbrushes. Dirty camp, tonight! Of course, to some the B400 price tag is an attraction. On the positive side the air con works wonderfully and is near silent.

Hollywood Guest House, Krabi N8.06212 E98.91656 Elev. 19m Hollywood Guest House, Krabi. A bit like Hotel Spencer [in Melbourne], the downstairs lulls you in...

Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.