5 40-minute naps.

Classic. I am running towards car 10 at 6:15. The air is choking with diesel and hot cooking oil. Wearing my duffel bag as a backpack and my backpack as a pregnant belly I frantically look into all the windows of the train that is leaving in five minutes. None of them seem to be the alleged "sleeper cars" that was promised. I ask a few guards if this is the right bus and they just agree with me. Thank god Lexie and Teresa are my support units; they deliver me right to seat 22. We learn that the seats pull into sleeper beds when it is time to sleep. I am a bit more at ease but I still have some butterflies in the belly. I know I will be fine, but the mind immediately moves to the worst possible- what if I wake up to find that this train is actually the one going north. It's not. But it could be...

I sit across from a girl who I would pin for a high schooler, she is diligently working on her homework and I find out later is from Surat Thani (the train stop we're going to). I can tell this isn't her first rodeo, but everyone else can tell it is mine- I might as well being telling the whole car to "say cheese!" I don't even feel embarrassed about my foolish grin. I am obviously not from here, nor do I overnight train often- most of these people seem to do this on a routine. I am sticking my whole body out of our enormous window. The windows on the train would not pass code in the US, they look as if they were made to have the ability to throw two bodies out at one time. No screen or bars, they are just wide open... I appreciate that.

The train is movie scene worthy. A rhythmically circulating fan every 10'-15' are registered at the same low volume as the many Thai conversations going on around me (that I have become so accustomed to tuning out.) The interior is poorly painted a sickly drab mint green, complimented by darker green cushioned seats and yellow/green curtains. The window that separates the high school girl and me is huge (in soooo many ways). The hall is shrunk in width by metal luggage holders, and the ceiling holds blinding fluorescent lights. There are official looking men checking tickets and unofficial looking men selling food and drink.

We cruise through downtown. Neighborhoods are inches away from the tracks. These shacks look inhabitable, a hodgepodge of fences and boards covered with signs and tarps. Each house seems to only be standing because the two on either side of it are helping to hold it up- I imagine the same goes for the families who dwell within them. As the sun sets, I still watch the life in Bangkok pass through my 3'x4' big screen. Small fires on the paralleling tracks, some left alone to burn whilst others are surrounded by a group of bodies of a variety of ages. After watching my "not burned" copy of Slum Dog, it makes me think about the potential each of those souls holds- how different their lives are to mine. The wind blows in my face and they are out of my sight again. I love this moment- the sky is purple and the silhouettes of the palm trees clutter my view of the horizon, the wind is blowing in my face and all I hear is noise of the train going over its tracks. Passing through a country this way is something really special.

Beds are pulled out at 7:30- a one man show, he goes from bed to bed reorganizing all the cushions and putting the clean white sheets of the mat. He hands me a sheet of laminated paper and points to the English instructions then proceeds to create my bed.

The sheet only has three lines of advice:

- keep valuables in a safe place.

-do not sleep with your window open.

-should not accept food or drink from strangers.
They all seem simple enough, and great reminders I guess. Although I am not too attached to any of the belongings I have in my duffel bag, I still toss both of my bags in my curtained sleep spot with me. It would be a bummer to lose my stuff, naked yoga and all seems a bit uncomfortable... for the others at least...

At first I felt as if it was pretty romantic, lying in my 5'5" bed with all my month's luggage next to me...the train bumping down the tracks, the curtain lightly fluttering filtering the glare of the neon bulb... the low signally sound in cue with the sporadic and slow breaking... the pulsing sound of the wheels churning and the pattern of the rotating fan. But it is not romantic after a few hours. It is hot and then cold, feels stale and then a bit dirty. The noise gets distracting and then annoying, I try the headphones but nothing can make me comfortable in such a small space with my bags getting in the way of my tossing and turning. I would drift to sleep and then that damn horn would blow and the wheels would slow their pace to a stop.

After a handful of naps, the day is starting to creep up on the night and I decided to stop trying to nap and just watch the world outside. A beautiful mist lies on the damp earth. The houses we pass are quiet, it's barely 5 a.m, they must still be asleep. I wonder what they dream of.

Another hour passes of watching the dilapidated houses in the swamps and then the train stops. It makes quick stops every hour or so, but this time I look out the window to see a sign with the name of the town that I am supposed to be in. Not everyone is getting off but the girl who was sitting across from me last night is running for the door so- I bust a move. Toss on the flip flops, grab my two big bags and get out of that train! I take a breath of slightly less polluted air, just to start my morning right, and I start to look for a bus... that will bring me to a boat... that will bring me to an island... that will somehow bring me to a shala... that will bring me much much more than I could ever have imagine or even ask for... (!)