Tuesday night. Hurtling, rocking. Laughing. White people! Probably Dutch. We are on a overnight train headed to Chang Mai.
The harsh flourescent lights above strangely contrast with the relatively comfortable beds. The bathroom is nearby, spurring a honest flow of passers-by, intent on voiding themselves.
The tireless train attendant has stripped his uniform off, eschewing formality for comfort. Sweat drips off of his foreheas as he works to convert seats into beds. His task done, he loiters busily near the bathrooms, where there are supplies and a sink.
Rocking gently, the train moves through the moist night. The air conditioning valiantly fights against the hot, wet air creating a strange diaclectic. Half of my body is cold while the other is warm and humid.
During a still stretch of tracks, the motion ceases to be evident and the brain freezes for a moment, luxuriating in the absence of motion. Then it continues again.
