Heading to Ayutthaya: Meeting a Chinese-Speaking Girl on a Bangkok Train

Bangkok is the capital of Thailand and, apart from “Chiang Mai” at the foot of the Himalayas, the most commonly chosen first stop for backpackers from around the world entering Thailand and the Indochinese Peninsula.

This vast City of Angels, with its well-connected transportation, has made it virtually the most important hub in all of Southeast Asia. And among all the ways of moving through this city, the train is arguably the oldest and most historically evocative. There is even the classic war film “The Bridge on the River Kwai” that used it as a filming location. Although the film deals with the cruel history of World War II, perhaps it is precisely thanks to the film’s fame that “Kanchanaburi,” where the bridge is located, remains to this day a tourist attraction with an endless stream of visitors from all countries.

[!NOTE] Southeast Asia is mainly composed of the Indochinese Peninsula, the Malay Archipelago, and the South China Sea Islands, covering countries such as Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, Brunei, Malaysia, East Timor, Indonesia, the Philippines, Christmas Island, and Singapore.

On this independent trip to Thailand, due to the limited number of vacation days, I couldn’t make a special trip to see the bridge in Kanchanaburi. But besides the bustling, chaotic city area of Bangkok, I still picked one early morning to board an old-style train to another tourist town with deep historical heritage—“Ayutthaya.”

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The Ancient Capital of a Million: Ayutthaya

Ayutthaya, also known as Ayutthaya, is the capital of Ayutthaya Province in Thailand. It is said that in its heyday three hundred years ago, the total population here reached a million; now, after shedding its glorious halo, the resident population is less than sixty thousand.

Ayutthaya is only about an hour’s drive from Bangkok’s city area (if taking a 15-seat Mini Van). Many local Bangkok tour groups package it as a quick one-day tour, but this time I specially arranged to stay two nights locally, precisely to savor its quiet, desolate ruins and humanistic atmosphere at dawn and dusk, when the tourists have dispersed. A deeper exploration of Ayutthaya’s historic sites will be covered in a separate article later; for now, let’s bring the camera back to the theme of that morning of departure.

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The Chaos and Vitality of Hua Lamphong Railway Station

“Hua Lamphong Railway Station” is the largest and oldest railway terminus located in the heart of Bangkok. It is also an important international-line station—the legendary luxury train “Eastern & Oriental Express” running between Thailand and Singapore uses this place as its hub.

Inside the huge semicircular vaulted station hall, besides the many snack shops, grocery stalls, and currency exchange counters, there is even a thoughtfully provided paid bathroom where long-distance backpackers can wash up and shower. The station has a total of fourteen platforms, with steel rails crisscrossing, carrying the longing of countless travelers rushing toward the Siamese plains.

Boarding the ordinary carriage bound for Ayutthaya, the condition of the old Thai train is just like everyone’s friendly yet chaotic stereotype of third-world railways in Southeast Asia: old ceiling fans spinning feebly overhead, open windows letting in hot wind mixed with the smell of diesel smoke and rice fields.

The carriage was extremely crowded, and at one point a local man even dared to squeeze into the tiny gap between me and the passenger next to me, arms and shoulders pressed tightly together. This kind of extreme zero-distance squeezing experience with strangers is something the author has rarely encountered despite traveling to so many countries (this is also one of the reasons I still haven’t dared to challenge India).

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Chinese Blurted Out in the Carriage

The train swayed slowly across the open suburban plains. Just as I was staring out the window in a daze, a commotion suddenly came from the seats at the front of the carriage.

A young girl suddenly sprang up from her seat, her expression full of panic, standing in the narrow aisle anxiously looking left and right. She frantically grabbed a passing train conductor, eagerly trying to explain something.

Interestingly, on a train in Thailand, I actually understood what she was saying right away—because in extreme panic and anxiety, she subconsciously spoke to the Thai conductor in standard Chinese!

Judging by the tone and word choice, that familiar accent sounded with high probability like a fellow Taiwanese. Pale-faced, she said she had gotten off at the wrong stop, gone the wrong direction, and, worse, she had a scheduled international return flight at Bangkok airport that afternoon.

The conductor was left looking bewildered by this girl who suddenly spoke a foreign language to him.

A few seconds later, the girl probably also suddenly realized the other party couldn’t understand Chinese at all. She hurriedly took a deep breath and, flustered, switched to somewhat stiff and awkward English, adding exaggerated gestures. Only then did the conductor finally understand the situation: this foreign tourist had taken the wrong train and missed her stop, and was facing the overwhelming crisis of missing her flight.

The friendliness and efficiency of the Thai railway staff showed their human touch at this moment. With the conductor’s emergency contact and coordination, they had the girl get off immediately at the next small station, and directly booked a taxi by phone to wait outside the station, so she could take the road straight to the airport as fast as possible.

Watching the girl grab her carry-on luggage and hurriedly jump off the carriage, the air in the whole carriage seemed to relax a little.

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Later, during those days leisurely wandering in Ayutthaya, cycling through the ruins of red-brick Buddhist stupas, sitting at a roadside stall drinking iced Thai milk tea, I would occasionally still suddenly recall that morning’s episode:

In the end, did that girl who blurted out Chinese in panic on the Bangkok train make her flight in time?

I don’t know either.

But that’s the most wonderful thing about travel—on the long tracks, strangers’ fates briefly intersect at some coordinate for a few minutes, then each rushes off toward the vast world, leaving behind a tiny, forever-unanswered mystery.