bangyuk
01-12-03, 07:57 PM
Thought this might be of interest - it came to me through a rather convoluted source, but perhaps someone should approach this guy to read 2bangkok.com!
Bangyuk
>>> "Jonathan E. D. Richmond" <richmond@ALUM.MIT.EDU> 11/28/03 10:49am >>>
Dear Planeteers,
Thailand can be an intriguing place, but try finding turkey on
Thanksgiving! I have now learned, more or less, what the "safer" items
are
in the cafeteria, but the Thais do have a way of putting little spice
bombs in even the most innocuous-seeming foods: little peppers that make
you convulse and fume, which fellow diners in the cafeteria seem to
find
quite entertaining!
But I digress. I am really here to tell you about my local ghost
station.
You see, I have a bit of time on my hands right now. I was in the middle
of typing some job applications (directed, in fact, to some of your
attentions, so now you will know why they might be a bit late!), when I
realized that the version of Microsoft Office on my computer was about
to
expire. I had downloaded a free trial version of Office 2003, which is
only usable until November 30. And I had been assured by AIT that they
would have the full replacement version on time, and that it was a
campus
license which could be legally used on faculty member laptops. So far so
good.
The IT people kindly completed the installation of the new program
today,
deleting the copy on my hard disk in the process. Alas, the version
turns out to be Thai language ONLY (you would have thought Microsoft
would
have automatically included English), and some special "language pack"
is
needed which is on a separate disk. I have to wait until next week for
them to get what is required.
So I now have a bit of time to chat.
My student Joom had told me about the train station at Thammasat
University. It had been built for the 1998 Asian Games and then closed.
Despite being next to a huge state university and a science park as well
as AIT, the place was deserted and there were no services there, she
said.
Well, last Saturday I decided to go to Lop Buri. I went to Chiang Rak
station, about three miles away. The station is very little used because
it is set well away from the university complex, and there is no direct
transport to get there (you have to get a bus and then either walk about
a
mile, dodging the large number of over-excited dogs in the road, or flag
down a songtao pick-up truck). There aren't many trains there anyway, as
the State Railways seem to concentrate on intercity services, with
little
done to develop Bangkok area local traffic. I made it to the statiion on
time, and found the train was running just ten minutes late, not bad by
Thai standards.
The train looked packed out as it came in to the platform, but I noticed
that the carriage behind the engine seemed empty. I ran up to the car
behind that one, and saw that the door went into some sort of crew area
--
which I walked through to enter the empty passenger seating (which,
however, I believe was part of the crew area). I wasn't thrown out. One
other crew member lounged around there. Two others were in beds in
alcoves
between this zone and the rest of the train. There seemed to be a small
kitchen, also, with saucepans and preparations going on. Thais will
never
avoid the excuse for a proper meal, and this requires cooking. No
sandwiches for this nation!
Three or four minutes after we'd left, we stopped at a concrete
platform.
Two passengers boarded... This then was the Thammasat University
station.
But it wasn't in the train timetable! What was going on?
Continued on to Lop Buri. It was very hot, and all the windows on
the non-airconditioned train were open, hot air blowing in. The fields
were a bright and artificial green, illuminated by harsh sunlight.
Some of the stations -- this was a local train and we stopped everywhere
-- were attractive as well as peaceful, with displays of bright flowers
and dogs lazing in the sun. At every stop, someone came to the platform
to wave first a red flag and them a green one. It seems that stations
have a flag waver as well as a ticket seller and various other people
without much to do most of the time.
The toilets on board are of the traditional variety, but must be quite
tricky to use by women or for men requiring more than a pee. You have to
mount quite a high shelf and perch precariously on two narrow footholds
facing forwards and trying not to fall into the toilet as the train
lurches onwards.
Returning home, I bought a ticket... to the nonexistent station!
"Thammasat," I said, and a ticket was issued to "Thammasat University,"
even through there is no such station in the railway timetable.
The problem with non-aircon trains in the evening is that all sorts of
insects get blown in. Quite a collection, from grasshoppers to
mosquitos,
settled on me. Still, the air was cooler now, and it was pleasant to
look
out at the landscape without glass intervening (I noted, incidentally,
that the train had airconditioning units. Whether these were broken or
simply not in use because the train was at non-aircon fare, I don't
know.)
I asked the guard about positioning myself to get off the train at
Thammasat, and he told me it would be the station after Chaing Rak Noi
(he
didn't seem to understand my question about whether I should move down
the
train to be near the platform). We stopped at what I thought was Chaing
Rak Noi, but I could not make out the station name. We came in to the
next
station, but people I asked insisted it was definitely not Thammasat. In
fact, while the train stopped, my carriage had overshot the unlit
platform
(which truly looked ghostly in the distance) by quite an extent, so I
faced a decision over whether to jump out into snake-infested grass and
walk back to what might be the wrong station (with a strong possibility
that this would be the last train of the night to stop there), or to
stay
on board.
The train started moving, making my decision for me, and shortly
afterwards I realized that this had in fact been the mystery station. I
alighted at my starting point for the day.
Determined to prove that the ghost station really existed, I took a walk
the next day, taking my train ticket with me in case I needed to ask
directions. In fact, I found the concrete platforms quite quickly. The
"station" is approached via a somewhat ceremonious arch, a remnant of
the Asian Games, but there are no buildings or facilities there
beyond a footbridge over the tracks. There are three concrete platforms,
and that is it. No ticket office, no timetables posted or other
information. No lighting, which is why it looked such a desolate place
the
previous night.
I went up onto the footbridge and seconds later a Bangkok-headed diesel
multiple unit speeded through. I walked down one of the platforms,
observed by a couple of kids curious about what this madman with camera,
taking pictures of nothingness, was doing. Walked off the end of the
platform and crossed the nearer track to take a picture of the
whole station. Just then I spotted an intercity train in the distance
and
got well out of its way as it thundered past.
OK, so neither of these trains stopped here: but, the day before, both
trains I was on did pause in this strange and lonely outpost. Which
trains
do stop here? Why do they stop when the station is not in the timetable
and none of the normal Thai station facilities (ticket office, red and
green flag wavers) are in evidence? It is not clear I will ever find out
what is going on, and I'm not sure I want to risk coming here to try to
catch a train when I could be left grounded.
Still, this could be an excellent facility if developed properly, and
this
seems to be part of the tragedy of so many projects in developing
countries which are built for some showy reason such as an international
event, and then abandoned. This station on a high-speed mainline to
Bangkok is not only in the midst of a substantial population that
travels to Bangkok regularly, but the terminal point for all the local
bus lines (although there are no facilities for passengers here, just
mud
and dirt, and a makeshift restaurant for the drivers to take a meal
break and lounge around). The roads are impossibly congested much of the
time, with three hour trips to Bangkok (about 25 miles away) quite
common. The
train, if run properly, could do the journey in under an hour. But
hardly
anyone knows about this station, and my guess is that no more than a few
trains stop here each day -- and who knows which trains those
are? So instead of having what could be a wonderful transit interchange,
we have a wasted opportunity.
I went over to the bus lot, climbed on the first bus heading out, and
rode
the brief distance back to AIT to keep out of the overwhelming midday
sun.
--Jonathan!
Bangyuk
>>> "Jonathan E. D. Richmond" <richmond@ALUM.MIT.EDU> 11/28/03 10:49am >>>
Dear Planeteers,
Thailand can be an intriguing place, but try finding turkey on
Thanksgiving! I have now learned, more or less, what the "safer" items
are
in the cafeteria, but the Thais do have a way of putting little spice
bombs in even the most innocuous-seeming foods: little peppers that make
you convulse and fume, which fellow diners in the cafeteria seem to
find
quite entertaining!
But I digress. I am really here to tell you about my local ghost
station.
You see, I have a bit of time on my hands right now. I was in the middle
of typing some job applications (directed, in fact, to some of your
attentions, so now you will know why they might be a bit late!), when I
realized that the version of Microsoft Office on my computer was about
to
expire. I had downloaded a free trial version of Office 2003, which is
only usable until November 30. And I had been assured by AIT that they
would have the full replacement version on time, and that it was a
campus
license which could be legally used on faculty member laptops. So far so
good.
The IT people kindly completed the installation of the new program
today,
deleting the copy on my hard disk in the process. Alas, the version
turns out to be Thai language ONLY (you would have thought Microsoft
would
have automatically included English), and some special "language pack"
is
needed which is on a separate disk. I have to wait until next week for
them to get what is required.
So I now have a bit of time to chat.
My student Joom had told me about the train station at Thammasat
University. It had been built for the 1998 Asian Games and then closed.
Despite being next to a huge state university and a science park as well
as AIT, the place was deserted and there were no services there, she
said.
Well, last Saturday I decided to go to Lop Buri. I went to Chiang Rak
station, about three miles away. The station is very little used because
it is set well away from the university complex, and there is no direct
transport to get there (you have to get a bus and then either walk about
a
mile, dodging the large number of over-excited dogs in the road, or flag
down a songtao pick-up truck). There aren't many trains there anyway, as
the State Railways seem to concentrate on intercity services, with
little
done to develop Bangkok area local traffic. I made it to the statiion on
time, and found the train was running just ten minutes late, not bad by
Thai standards.
The train looked packed out as it came in to the platform, but I noticed
that the carriage behind the engine seemed empty. I ran up to the car
behind that one, and saw that the door went into some sort of crew area
--
which I walked through to enter the empty passenger seating (which,
however, I believe was part of the crew area). I wasn't thrown out. One
other crew member lounged around there. Two others were in beds in
alcoves
between this zone and the rest of the train. There seemed to be a small
kitchen, also, with saucepans and preparations going on. Thais will
never
avoid the excuse for a proper meal, and this requires cooking. No
sandwiches for this nation!
Three or four minutes after we'd left, we stopped at a concrete
platform.
Two passengers boarded... This then was the Thammasat University
station.
But it wasn't in the train timetable! What was going on?
Continued on to Lop Buri. It was very hot, and all the windows on
the non-airconditioned train were open, hot air blowing in. The fields
were a bright and artificial green, illuminated by harsh sunlight.
Some of the stations -- this was a local train and we stopped everywhere
-- were attractive as well as peaceful, with displays of bright flowers
and dogs lazing in the sun. At every stop, someone came to the platform
to wave first a red flag and them a green one. It seems that stations
have a flag waver as well as a ticket seller and various other people
without much to do most of the time.
The toilets on board are of the traditional variety, but must be quite
tricky to use by women or for men requiring more than a pee. You have to
mount quite a high shelf and perch precariously on two narrow footholds
facing forwards and trying not to fall into the toilet as the train
lurches onwards.
Returning home, I bought a ticket... to the nonexistent station!
"Thammasat," I said, and a ticket was issued to "Thammasat University,"
even through there is no such station in the railway timetable.
The problem with non-aircon trains in the evening is that all sorts of
insects get blown in. Quite a collection, from grasshoppers to
mosquitos,
settled on me. Still, the air was cooler now, and it was pleasant to
look
out at the landscape without glass intervening (I noted, incidentally,
that the train had airconditioning units. Whether these were broken or
simply not in use because the train was at non-aircon fare, I don't
know.)
I asked the guard about positioning myself to get off the train at
Thammasat, and he told me it would be the station after Chaing Rak Noi
(he
didn't seem to understand my question about whether I should move down
the
train to be near the platform). We stopped at what I thought was Chaing
Rak Noi, but I could not make out the station name. We came in to the
next
station, but people I asked insisted it was definitely not Thammasat. In
fact, while the train stopped, my carriage had overshot the unlit
platform
(which truly looked ghostly in the distance) by quite an extent, so I
faced a decision over whether to jump out into snake-infested grass and
walk back to what might be the wrong station (with a strong possibility
that this would be the last train of the night to stop there), or to
stay
on board.
The train started moving, making my decision for me, and shortly
afterwards I realized that this had in fact been the mystery station. I
alighted at my starting point for the day.
Determined to prove that the ghost station really existed, I took a walk
the next day, taking my train ticket with me in case I needed to ask
directions. In fact, I found the concrete platforms quite quickly. The
"station" is approached via a somewhat ceremonious arch, a remnant of
the Asian Games, but there are no buildings or facilities there
beyond a footbridge over the tracks. There are three concrete platforms,
and that is it. No ticket office, no timetables posted or other
information. No lighting, which is why it looked such a desolate place
the
previous night.
I went up onto the footbridge and seconds later a Bangkok-headed diesel
multiple unit speeded through. I walked down one of the platforms,
observed by a couple of kids curious about what this madman with camera,
taking pictures of nothingness, was doing. Walked off the end of the
platform and crossed the nearer track to take a picture of the
whole station. Just then I spotted an intercity train in the distance
and
got well out of its way as it thundered past.
OK, so neither of these trains stopped here: but, the day before, both
trains I was on did pause in this strange and lonely outpost. Which
trains
do stop here? Why do they stop when the station is not in the timetable
and none of the normal Thai station facilities (ticket office, red and
green flag wavers) are in evidence? It is not clear I will ever find out
what is going on, and I'm not sure I want to risk coming here to try to
catch a train when I could be left grounded.
Still, this could be an excellent facility if developed properly, and
this
seems to be part of the tragedy of so many projects in developing
countries which are built for some showy reason such as an international
event, and then abandoned. This station on a high-speed mainline to
Bangkok is not only in the midst of a substantial population that
travels to Bangkok regularly, but the terminal point for all the local
bus lines (although there are no facilities for passengers here, just
mud
and dirt, and a makeshift restaurant for the drivers to take a meal
break and lounge around). The roads are impossibly congested much of the
time, with three hour trips to Bangkok (about 25 miles away) quite
common. The
train, if run properly, could do the journey in under an hour. But
hardly
anyone knows about this station, and my guess is that no more than a few
trains stop here each day -- and who knows which trains those
are? So instead of having what could be a wonderful transit interchange,
we have a wasted opportunity.
I went over to the bus lot, climbed on the first bus heading out, and
rode
the brief distance back to AIT to keep out of the overwhelming midday
sun.
--Jonathan!