I’m sitting in Chiang Mai in the rain. It’s monsoon season in northern Thailand, which means I’m looking at a few weeks where outdoor activities can quickly be put on hold. But despite what I expected from the monsoon, there’s been plenty of sunshine in the three days I’ve been here.

While I was on Koh Tao, I decided to join my family in Crete at the end of September. Mainly to celebrate my dad’s 60th birthday, but of course also to see my mum, my brother and my grandmother again.

Once I’d made that decision, it also became clear to me that it would be practical, and maybe even the smart thing to do, to go home to Denmark after Crete. I’ve been travelling since the 21st of February. Those seven months have been an incredible experience, and they’ve also drained my wallet. Not because it’s been expensive. My trip through Southeast Asia has been far cheaper than living at home in Denmark. But I haven’t earned any money in half a year.

Even though I’ve decided to go home a little earlier, my wanderlust is still very much alive. I still have plenty of destinations in my head, and this way of travelling, slowly, focused on being present rather than sightseeing, has been a good fit for me. At the same time, I don’t think it will ever be hard for me to choose to travel again. A lot of barriers have come down.

Taking the Night Train

I leave Koh Tao the day after my dive certification. The decision to end my trip in October didn’t change much about the plans for the coming month. After Koh Tao, I’m heading to Chiang Mai. The journey ahead of me is a long one. A ferry to Chumphon, a night train to Bangkok, a day in Bangkok and then another night train to Chiang Mai. I’m more or less skipping Bangkok. It feels like a city you can always get to easily, and besides, I’ve had so many recommendations for Chiang Mai that I’m itching to get there.

On the day, I say goodbye to the resort on Koh Tao and head off from the harbour. I run into Stefan, who I dived with on one of the days, in reception, and we wish each other a good trip. Axel is out diving, but I said goodbye to him the day before.

I end up in Chumphon just after noon. I have nine hours to kill before the night train to Bangkok. I’m still pretty absorbed in my AI project, which is close to reaching a major milestone, so instead of exploring the town, I find a small café and set up camp. With a cat on my lap, I carry on down the rabbit hole of my project until evening.

It’s my first time travelling by night train. When I decided to take two night trains over two nights, it was with a certain amount of worry about ending up with no sleep at all. The night buses in Vietnam really took it out of me. The driving, the honking and the warm, rigid seats meant I got hardly any sleep.

When I get on the train and see a cabin with a decent-sized bed, fresh sheets and room for my luggage, I breathe a sigh of relief. After settling into my nice little bed and confirming that yes, the train has started moving, I fall asleep pretty quickly and sleep more or less all the way to Bangkok.

Bangkok Breakthrough

Much like in Chumphon, all I really need to do is spend a day in Bangkok before catching the next night train. Bangkok’s train station is enormous and, for some reason, completely disorientating to me. There’s basically a very long row of halls running alongside the platforms, but with three different types of train leaving from their own end and their own level.

When I arrive in the morning, I step off into the big hall and head for the food stalls. What I don’t know is that the food stalls are at the opposite end of this more-or-less half-kilometre-long station. After finally lugging my 20 kg backpack down to the food stalls and buying some breakfast, I start googling for a suitable café. A few metro stops away there’s a small place that has just opened, closes a couple of hours before my train leaves, and offers food, drinks and a quiet work area. The metro, of course, is back where I got off the train.

Having got to know Bangkok’s metro system, I arrive at the café. By “got to know”, I mean looking very confused at an information assistant until they let me through the wheelchair gate. The café is down a small side street, in what I can best describe as a small, peaceful residential neighbourhood. None of the houses are more than two storeys. The two-metre walls around the houses and the deserted street stand in sharp contrast to the extremely busy road I’ve just turned off. This is where I find the day’s café.

The café has just opened. I’m the first customer of the day. On the first floor I find a corner table with a power socket and a good chair. The wifi is solid. Drinks are on offer because it’s the café’s birthday. It all comes together, and the day flies by.

It also helps that my AI project is nearing its first version, and much faster than I first expected. After a few hours at the café, I realise that if I get cracking now, I can be finished before I leave Bangkok. Or finished with the first version, at least. And shortly before the café closes, I press the start button.

I lean back in my chair. The culmination of three weeks of intense work. And if everything works as it should, nobody will really notice anything. The dumb little robot I’ve let loose on the internet just has to fend for itself, earn a bit of money to pay its own bills, and hopefully learn and get smarter.

The Night Train Without Beds

It’s time to head to Chiang Mai, so I pack up my computer and leave the café. The robot emails me regularly so I know what it’s up to. I’m still responsible for it, after all.

Back to the station and through the long hall. My night train to Chiang Mai leaves at 8 pm and arrives at 8 am. I get on board. When I reach number 24, my number, there’s no bed, just two seats facing each other. I look around a bit. It’s a long carriage with an aisle down the middle. No beds anywhere in the carriage. On the train to Bangkok I had a cabin.

I ask the conductor whether I’m in the right carriage. She nods. Okay, but where’s the bed? It’s twelve hours to Chiang Mai. I double-check my ticket. Did I book the wrong one? No, the ticket says sleeper. I go back to the conductor, who looks at me, confused. I make the universal sign for sleep, two hands against one cheek and my head tilted. “Yes, 10 minute.”

I go back to my seat and look around. So apparently the two seats facing each other turn into a bed in ten minutes. I honestly can’t work out how. You could fold out a support between them and make up a bed, but there are supposed to be two beds. I’m hoping I won’t have to spoon a stranger.

But ten minutes later the conductor starts at one end and begins moving panels around. What I’d assumed was an overhead locker, just like on a plane, swings open from the ceiling. Instead, it’s a whole bed that folds out, complete with mattress, pillows and sheets. In a flash, the seats are folded away and two bunks are put together. I climb into mine and get settled. There are still more than eleven hours to Chiang Mai, but at least I won’t have to sit up the whole way.

Arriving in Chiang Mai

I arrive in Chiang Mai after two days in transit. I’ve slept well on the way, which makes a huge difference compared to, say, a twelve-hour flight. I’ve got that to look forward to when I head back to Europe. But for now, it’s Chiang Mai. I get from the station to my hotel in Nimman. On the way, we drive around Chiang Mai’s old town, which is easy to recognise from the ruins of the city walls and the moat we drive alongside. My driver and I chat, and I pick up a few tips on local markets and sights.

My hotel is in the Nimman neighbourhood. I’ve booked a nice little private room with its own balcony. The room is spot on, with a big comfortable bed, private bathroom, towels, water and snacks. There’s nothing missing. It’s going to be a good base.

Ahead of me are a couple of good weeks in Chiang Mai, where I’ll be exploring an exciting area while also quietly getting ready for the journey home. It’s one thing to sort out the practical side of getting back to Denmark, but my head needs to come along too. First, though, I’m lacing up my shoes. There’s a new city to see.

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