Political Unrest & Sharing

I heard on the news this morning that Thailand has called a state of emergency following rioting in Bangkok. This international unrest comes hot on the heels of Russian adventures in Georgia, which have strained relations with the West so much they’re threatening to turn off our (their) oil.

Politically, this might not be the ideal time to embark on a journey that takes in both countries, but then again, it might just add to the experience. Mind you, if I find myself sharing my Trans-Manchurian carriage with a rabid, nationalistic, cabbage smelling, vodka swilling, ex NKVD torturer, with a crooked smile, called Igor, I might think differently.

You will know, if you bothered to read my last entry, that the common theme of my Commuter’s Revenge is trains – that’s not to say that my train experience across the continents will be similar to my straight line into London. On my commuter train, for example, anyone heard talking above a whisper is usually considered to be a failed care in the community case. I’ll have to talk to people on my train journey. The trains I’m taking to Bangkok are sleepers, and there’s an element of sharing on all of them.

I’m not a natural sharer, but at least I’m easing myself in with a 2 nighter from Cologne to Moscow. I’m going first class – justifying this to myself because its only £40 more expensive than second. However, the benefit is that I’ll only be sharing with one other. In second-class I’d have four sharers. I asked the rather helpful Hans at the Deutsche Bahn booking centre what I might expect.

            ‘Yah, OK, you might get a Russian.’ He said in the sort of tone I reserve for telling a friend their cats dead, and currently sprawled out under my bonnet.

            ‘But most likely,’ he said perking up, ‘it will be a German.’ I imagined him standing to attention as he said this.

Personally I have nothing against either nationality – don’t mention the war, or the Romanovs – that’s what I say. But I was a little unsettled at the thought that there’s a complete stranger somewhere in Mainland Europe blissfully ignorant of the fact that trains gives me wind. Or rather, I’m worried they will. A continuous rolling motion might plays havoc with my own motions. I can’t explain why I think this – I know it’s not logical. A hulking great piece of metal running on rails shouldn’t turn me into Johnny Fart Pants? But what if it does?

This could make the six-night trip from Moscow to Beijing a little atmospheric. Literally. Especially if I get Igor the cabbage-eating psychopath as my co-sharer? We might end up being quarantined in our cabin. Confined in such a small space could trigger a regression. He might see me as a blank canvass for his special style of body art. I might end up with a portrait of Stalin burned into my chest, or find my knuckles facing the wrong way. Or worse, I might wake up dead.

Hans finished the call with another piece of sage advice.

‘Remember Mike, its easy to get paranoid ven you travel. Just let it happen. I’m sure whoever you share with vill be very nice.’

Easy for him to say, sitting on his comfy chair, in an air-conditioned office, somewhere in London.

So, where am I going after Beijing? To more comfortable territory, that’s where – Vietnam, Cambodia, and then Thailand. I’ve been to South East Asia many times, including train journeys – except Cambodia.

I asked someone about the trains in Cambodia. Not just anyone, a true bona fide trainspotting fanatic. You know the type; they hang about at the end of platforms, dressed like an angler, with a Tupperware addiction.

‘Be quicker to walk mate.’

Apparently, Cambodia only has one train route and a couple of trains. None of which are replicated in the Hornby catalogue collection, or have a service record beyond 1970. Air conditioning means sitting on the roof, and the only food available is scurrying around the carriage, if you can catch it.

Still, at least Cambodia is peaceful, there’s no rioting that I know of, and they don’t have any oil to turn off.