With four hours to go, we settled into the last two remaining seats in the second class carriage. Actually, they weren’t seats yet, as the attendant hadn’t closed up the Pullman style beds. So we slouched on the bottom bunk, waiting for the giggling train staff to finish entertaining each other with our aborted boarding story. I’m pleased to have brought a little joy into their otherwise humdrum lives.
It became apparent that while the former first class passengers – us – had been put through the wringer at Hat Yai, the second class passengers spent a leisurely twenty minutes converting Thai baht into Malaysian ringgit, and stocking up on food and drink. We had had no breakfast, not even a coffee, and no lunch was in sight. Not only had the dining car disappeared with the first class carriage, even if it hadn’t, we had zero ringgit. Other than a small bag of chips which had survived the night (and thank heavens for that), we would have no sustenance until we alighted in Butterworth at 2pm. With longing fascination we watched the others eat. It is a miracle we didn’t kill each other. Continue reading 04. My Malaysian Debut