Day 2: Night, Buriram
Today started early for us (at 5am, still dark). Our train reached Buriram some time after four in the morning. Sleepless, I was gazing at passing scenery in various shades of black (dark, darker, darkest) and admiring opaque shapes (trees, distant hill, telephone pole?), when our train whistled to a stop at a well-lit station. An oblong, lighted sign with red and blue lettering told us we had reached our destination: the town of Buriram.
Some friendly train staff helpfully ushered us out of the train. Blurry-eyed, we stumbled onto the platform of a small and quiet station, a planet away from the brash, bright lights of bustling Hualampong. Since it was too dark to wander about in an unfamiliar place, we sat for two hours in the chilly station, waiting for sunrise. Very cold, especially when the wind blew through the open doorway and windows. Brrr! Frigid difference from the balmy Bangkok of last evening.
The overnight journey was very uncomfortable. I couldn't doze off for more than 15 mins or so each time. My body felt permanently contorted, trying to 'pretzel' itself into a more sleep-friendly position, but that proved a futile effort. In the next seat, Annie looked equally restless. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't such a thing as a comfortable position when trying to sleep on a reclining chair.
Buriram is a small, rather sleepy, town. We couldn't find any interesting accommodation, so we settled for a cheap and simple room, hoping to catch a nap before a late breakfast. At first glance, our room looked clean, but we soon found two dead roaches, and a live one trying to crawl up from a hole in the toilet! Ugh! Next, mosquito alert! So, we had to apply repellent and burn mosquito coil (We like Baygon. We've tried those with citrus added during another trip, but I really can't smell the difference once the coil is burning.).
After all this excitement, we couldn't possibly sleep so we decided to visit Phanom Rung, arguably the most impressive of the Khmer ruins in Thailand.
Trek to Imperial Khmer
Back after a tiring day, with most of the time spent trying to get to Phanom Rung and back to Buriram. But what a day!
Buriram bus station was on the edge of town. We didn't hear anyone speak English while we were there. Looking around, we saw little English on the signboards and at the ticket counters. Luckily, some people understood our sterling pronounciation of Phanom Rung and directed us to bus 552, whose sign at the front of the vehicle stated it was going to Chantaburi. Anyway, everyone waved us on board when we announced our intended destination. That high in communication emboldened us to venture forth to further lingistic challenges. We tried to ask if we should buy tickets before boarding and how much they cost.
No one understood.
So we simply followed everyone up the bus and waited for the conductor to find us. We reckoned there had to be a conductor since no one seemed to be buying tickets for this bus. We waited. The driver got in, then got out again. Not enough passengers. Since it looked as if we wouldn't be moving anytime soon, we ate our breakfast of biscuits and bottled water. After dusting off the crumbs, we waited. Finally, the driver decided he had met his quota and off we went.
Once again, our pristine pronounciation of Phanom Rung came to our rescue. Or rather, I think the conductor knew that foreigners had to be heading for the ruins. Where else, right? We forked out B35 each for a bracing ride through harvested farm land, villages and small towns. Brr! Especially chilly whenever the driver imagined he was racing in Formula One.
Accompanying us on this part of our Isan (the local name for the area) journey was a constant stream of goods and human traffic, flowing up and down our bus as we bumped, stopped, bumped, stopped, along the way. Our conductor remembered our destination -- a little difficult to forget when we were the only foreigners on board and the only ones he tried and failed to strike a conversation with. Our vocabulary comprised a grand total of five highly relevant words, which we had exhausted right after we bought our tickets. ("Phanom Rung?" Then, make 'V' sign to indicate two tickets. Then, "Kop Koon Kah!")
At a T-junction, our conductor gestured for us to alight. On our way out, we stepped over sacks of rice (I think) carpeting the entire length of the aisle. Touching asphalt at Ban (means village, I think) Ta Ko, we were promptly told by villagers that there was no songthaew (loosely translated: lorry bus) to Phanom Rung. A couple of villagers rode up in motorbikes and helpfully revealed that the last 8km had to be done on a motorbike. They offered to chauffer us there and back for B100 each.
We decided to check with those who had no vested interest in taking money off us. They also said the bus service had stopped. So, we walked, walked, walked! We had trudged a couple of kilometres with little shade when our trek turned uphill.
Just then, an old man on a motorbike rode past. A few metres on, he stopped, looked back and beckoned us forward. Pointing at his bike, the kind man offered both of us a ride up the hill. He wouldn't take "no" when we looked with round eyes at his tiny bike and shook our heads.
A 6km, winding walk uphill under the rising sun or a balancing act on a small, moving motorbike?
As we 'spiralled' up to Phanom Rung, Annie was hanging on for dear life. Certainly, her grip felt like it. And then I forgot all about her cutting off my circulation from waist down as she stepped down on one of my ankles. The old man was very careful with his human cargo and he was going at a sedate pace, but we were squashed behind him (must lose weight) and Annie had to step one of her feet on mine or leave it behind! That seemed a long, long, ride, but we reached the top safely, probably some 10 minutes later. I simply didn't have time or hands to check my watch while perched precariously on a miniscule motorbike ridden by one spry local and two extremely uncoordinated foreigners!
Phanom Rung was beautiful, especially the approach. So, I can still appreciate the scenery in my high-strung state... Flanked by stone nagas (mythological multi-headed snakes) on either side of the broadwalk, this was the equivalent of a red carpet laid out to draw the awed visitor huffing and puffing up the series of stairs to the main attraction -- the palace complex. We had a great time ambling among the ancient stones. The setting was serene and the view was pleasant.
Once out of the compound, however, reality intruded. We had to go back to the village below to catch the bus back to Buriram. No luck hitchhiking as materialistic young men tried to offer their motorbike for a ride down at B100 each (remember, it was B100 up and down from the village)! Naturally, we declined and started walking. Luckily, a car soon stopped by the road for us and we piled in the back seat, where a middle-aged man with tanned and leathery skin sat. The driver, a young man, and his friend, an equally young man, sat in front. Yes, yes, I know it's stupid and potentially dangerous to accept the ride. And yes, hitchhiking can be dangerous, especially for lone females and when there are more than one occupants in the vehicle already. But, we did it anyway.
Turned out the driver's friend had worked in Singapore a number of times as a construction worker and he spoke more English than either of his friends. He told us the silent one beside us was "the policeman" and we should feel safe! He also revealed that his driver companion was a dentist (showed us a set of dentures). Generously, he offered to drop us off in Buriram since they were going to pass that way. After a while, Dentist and Construction Guy realised they were not going to pass by Buriram after all and so suggested dropping us off at Nang Rong, a nearby town, to catch a bus to Buriram.
But at Nang Rong, they found out to their embarrassment that there was no Buriram bus. We couldn't get a songthaew or taxi either, because there was none. In the end, they decided to go pump some petrol into their vehicle first. At the station, Contruction Guy bought snacks and drinks and offered us food, but we didn't want to impose anymore. He insisted so we took some lemon Chiclets. They finally dropped us off in Buriram, after spending some more time looking for the train station. Deciding to be prudent after all, we told them we wanted to buy tickets for our next train journey, instead of telling them where we were staying. We were duly grateful and the guys rode off. I think they looked rather relieved when we waved goodbye to them.
Am very sleepy now, because we had slept little for two days. Maybe we can blame our sleepless state for riding double pillion and hitchhiking from one town to another. Unheard of, am not the throw-caution-to-the-wind type normally. Must be that lack of sleep. Definitely...
Budget (for two in Baht)
Room >> B220
Biscuits >> B10
Bus from Buriram to Ban Ta Ko >> B70
Lunch >> B60
Entry to Phanom Rung >> B80
Bottled H20 >> B5
Dinner >> B102
Links: Tourism Authority of Thailand - Airports - Trains
Up next...
Harry Potter sighting? And gracious service...
