Hobo

I have always preferred trains over buses, and last nights experience didn't change that any. I was waiting in line at Bangkok's main train station, when it occurred to me it was a Friday evening. I had chosen a bad moment to travel. Everybody likes to go somewhere in the weekend, and indeed, when I tried to order my ticket to Udon Thani, all second class and even first class sleepers were occupied already. I could however take the express train 45 minutes later, leaving at 20.45 and arriving at 08 in the morning in Udon. Provided I was willing to sit in third class. Why not, I was supposed to be traveling low-budget anyway, why pay 10 euros for a bed in a train if I could get there for 3.50 euros on a wooden bench? I didn't regret it. It was long, indeed, and sleeping was not an option, apart from a minute or 5 here and there. I was seated between real Isan folk, people that know about the hard life and smile compassionately when thinking of that life. I was being spoken to in Thai and Thai-Lu, the north-eastern dialect of thailand. People were mocking this strange bird amidst them, indeed, I was the only farang in the whole third class compartment. I guess they are not used to see a whiteskin sitting it out on the bleachers seats for a small 11 hours. I didn't mind being the main subject off small-talk for the first hour of this trip, as most of them seemed rather friendly minded about my presence. I was offered all kinds of suspicious feats, from dried fish-skins to warm beers, but I managed to dodge most offers without offending them. At last I had to eat a bitter tasting fruit that looked like a potato and had the inner texture of an apple. I was relieved when I got off the train that I didn't get the watery sheitsers on account of the potato. It happened before, so don't mock me. And toilets in third class ain't really in my book of "rest"-rooms. Anyway, after they had inspected me and my strange book (many of these people can't read Thai, let alone English) their curiosity seemed satisfied and I guess they started talking about the reunion with their families in the morning. Working in Bangkok's sweatshops, as taxi-drivers or tuk-tuk drivers, playing security-guard at underpaid wages, these people all came to Bangkok dreaming of making it, or at least being able to scrape together enough money to support the family back home. (I will leave out of account the many freelance girls coming from Isaan, as they tend to take the airplane home ;-) Pride was in their pose, and it suited them, honesty shining in their eyes. These people didn't like complaining and bitching about the small inconveniences of daily life. Instead they looked forward seeing their 'kin again. Later, around 3 in the morning, when I quietly went to the toilet, I was almost moved to tears by the landscape of sleeping couples, mothers holding their children in their sleep, sometimes three of them at the same time. Everywhere I looked I saw unison. I guess I missed my hometown a little, but more than that I was just reminded by the importance of havong each other, of knowing you don't have to stand it all alone. Back home I liked to pretend I was a loner, and in ways I am, but I guess I am also a little of a romanticus, and seeing these people that were living hard but honest lives holding each other in their sleep (they would never do so in public when awake, unless it was brothers or sisters) just made me feel we (we, as in the west)were getting it all wrong. All this bravado and made-up need to show our independence, afraid of being let down. I think I was afraid of being let down just because I have so much. These people have nothing to loose but they are willing to fight for it. They have one another to build on. Me? I have my internet and my camera, I can hide a little more while watching other people making a living together. And I can't help but feel like I just got carried away, because I don't feel I have a right to complain, as most of my fondest memories from back home are those in which I was part of something, be it a loony filmcrew or an even loonier youth-movement. Maybe I am spoiled, being born in Belgium, but that doesn't mean I'm lost. There's more great stuff to do while I'm here, and I sure hope it envolves lots of people and lots of hard work, say standing up for more than 10 hours in the cold night while looking at yet another take of shot such and so. (As long as there's catering, there's a happy crew-member tagging along ;-)
Anyways, I feel kinda exposed right now, so I'm gonna hit some happy-hour beers. See ya all.