Friday afternoon, around the same time that Lian's niece's wedding party is probably winding down -- the small-town Thai Buddhist shindig I so badly wanted to attend -- I board the southbound train to Bangkok, intending to catch up with Lian in Nasan. My bad luck: the sleeper cars in both segments of the trip are sold out, which means a miserable next two nights seated upright.
Two hours out of Chiang Mai the train clunks to a dead stop, a common occurrence on this particular run -- but then, after an hour, we start rolling backward! The conductor makes his way up the aisle with a pre-printed card in Thai and English informing us that the train had derailed (?) and must return to our point of origin, where we will board coaches for the trip south.
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| Women of Nasan: mother & daughter. |
At 10:30, five hours after we first started out, we leave Chiang Mai once more. The bus is
freezing -- these Asians are just nutty about their A/C, and I am wearing only a thin short-sleeved shirt and cutoffs. So in one of the warmest countries on the planet I wrap my shivering self in a window curtain as best I can for the 10-hour ride to Hualamphong railway station.
In Bangkok with 14 hours to kill between trains, I book a room at a nearby hotel and am able to get some actual, horizontal shuteye before hopping the overnighter to Nasan.
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| Hot 18-year-old niece. |
On Sunday morning the train slows down in Nasan just long enough for me to jump off. Lian meets me on the railway platform and we cross-country over the tracks and through a vacant lot to her brother's house. There, the whole fam damily is loading into a rented van to take their matriarch to live with Lian's sister outside Bangkok. But they've delayed leaving until I arrive, which is sweet of them. Grins and
wais all around. At last the van pulls away, leaving Lian and her big sweaty
farang goofus to go scare up some breakfast.
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| Peace Laguna Resort, Ao Nang. |
Monday morning Lian and I catch a bus for the two-hour trip to Krabi and on to Peace Laguna resort, in the nearby town of Ao Nang. I found this screaming deal on Expedia: not just half price but also a three-nights-for-the-price-of-two promotion. Even for low season this bargain is startling to the receptionist, who asks to see my email confirmation. She stares at it for the longest time, confers in hushed Thai with her colleagues, and finally checks us in. All told, a little over fifty bucks a night, breakfast buffet included.
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| Mmmm, breakfast. |
Tuesday evening we walk off the property for street-vendor
pad thai, which we stash in the room. Before we eat, Lian wants to partake of happy hour cocktails, because we're on holiday. Regarding fruity umbrella drinks: so far we've been unsuccessful at gauging Lian's tolerance for spirits; it might be zero. So I try her on a friendly-looking tequila sunrise, which I even help her finish. But a little is a little too much, and Lian starts to slide off her barstool. Okaaaay, time to go! The girl is listing badly as we cross the grounds to our wing. In the fourth-floor breezeway just short of our room she collapses altogether and I hear gurgling sounds.
"Not here! Over the edge!" I holler, lifting her 98-pound frame to the concrete railing. A shudder and, two seconds later, a splooshing sound from the manicured lawn below. Luckily it is dark and the resort has few guests in low season. (And hopefully no one is down below.)
At last the show is over and we tumble into the room. Lian immediately sequesters herself in the bathroom. And what about that takeout pad thai? "For you," she groans from behind the door.
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