Going by Train

We travelled from Hanoi to Hoi An by train. Sam was less than impressed by the third world carriages. When he saw them, the expression on his face looked as though he had just smelt something fowl. I cant begin to describe the decor. Well, maybe I can, dirty duck egg green walls, gold curtains hanging in taters, all new, I would guess, circa 1953. What were once white pillow cases with groovy 1960s Jetson's geometrical patterns in dark green and light green, which were new, I'd say, in the 1960s, all pilled. Sam wanted to fly and he just gave me "that" look at the carriage door. I could see him momentarily mentally calculating if it was at all possible to retreat and buy a plane ticket.

I thought it was great, we met people, like Peter the cute Hungarian who travelled with us in our carriage. He prettied up the place, in his green muscle t-shirt and his lose black shorts and his beautiful blue eyes. Very sexy he was when he reached up to get into the top bunk with his t-shirt riding up. And his beautiful American girlfriend who was so interesting to talk to.

There was a Vietnamese woman who was the first in the sleeper in Hanoi, who disappeared in the middle of the night. She was there when we went to sleep, but was gone by the morning.

A cute, young Vietnamese boy replaced the Vietnamese woman at Whe. He seemed to be terrified, maybe it was his first train trip, I thought. He did manage to say he was going to Na Trang to visit his brother, finally, when the American girlfriend spoke to him... like Americans, eventually, do.

I got to take photos through the filthy train windows, and I saw much more than if we had flown. The world passed by before my eyes, in Technicolour.

Everybody should travel by train, I am definitely with Sheldon Cooper on that one. We ate the train food, which was delivered in open stainless steel trays, from one end of the train to the other, and we lived to tell the tail. But, I am still on antibiotics from the first bout of food poisoning, so, I guess, I am feeling some what brave.

Oh yes, the toilets, I must mention those. Goodness me! The old stainless steel bowl was full of water that splashed from side to side as the train thmp, thmp'ed along. They smelt bad, naturally. There was a strange flushing mechanism, which resembled Madonna's head piece face microphone, it fitted around the inside rim of the toilet, like the microphone fitted around Madonna's face. While Madonna's microphone is probably a piece of precision technology made by Bose, the flushing mechanism of the toilet looked as though it had been made from scrap. It was difficult to piss without fearing getting splashed, the water slopped around so much. Sam resorted to taking a dump at one of the stations, when the train was stationary, so the water wouldn't splash up onto his delicate behind. He never crapped quicker.

"I see, nothing is private," Sam said when he read this.