The wonders of the Kingdom of Siam

Cha-am station hums with the ardent and boisterous shouts of hundreds of market sellers, a soundtrack that is synonymous with many of Thailand’s busy city streets. Here, however, the venue is slightly different. I meander through the intricate maze of stalls, ducking to avoid canopies, evading over-zealous mopeds and tripping over unfortunate beggars. This market has an authentic feel; the tedious array of fake Dr. Dres, glinting Rolexes and designer silk ties have been replaced by mounds of brilliantly coloured dried fruits, vats of boiling shrimp and saucers of khao khluk kapi. The air simmers with the aroma of a thousand obscure ingredients and the anticipation of a handful of expectant tourists. They know what is coming.

I am presented with a dreadlocked lychee, it bursts with a vividly sweet taste. A tremor ripples through the ground and the tables of the tiny platform café begin to tremble as the air starts popping with a cacophony of traffic horns. Guards draw a rusty metal wire across the adjacent road. They have seen it all before.

The hybrid hum of spoken languages is slowly drowned out by the vibrations of the approaching beast. Now there is a desperate flurry of activity as vendors rearrange their assortment of goods away from the flattening zone. Parcels of fish are relocated, cauldrons of sweet coconut rice dragged back whilst crab and scorpion skewers are neatly collocated on any unoccupied surface. Once the hawkers have cleared their stock, they wait impatiently for the inconvenience to culminate. They see it as a regular chore.

The traffic is halted, the ageing rails cleared, the Nikons poised. Screeching brakes signal the monstrosity’s arrival as it squeezes between stalls like an adventurous tuk tuk navigating Bangkok’s teeming city highways. Its sides scrape against protruding poles and dissect the shadows of onlookers, provoking a Blitzkreig of camera flashes. After dividing the thriving market place, its journey finally ceases alongside a battered ticket office. Occupants disembark to be accosted by a thick vapour of frying meats. The blocked traffic is freed and the road once more becomes an un-negotiable death trap, the tracks a platform on which to balance reeking seafood and the air a volatile Mecca for aggressive bartering. The transformation complete, the train shelters from the sweltering sun beneath an ancient corrugated iron sheet.

It knows nothing of the mayhem it has caused.