Trout Ankle in Thailand

Thailand––tiger photos, Leo Dicap’s beach, escaping near death from an overpriced jewellry store (the tuk tuk driver assured we were going to the Grand Palace). No more 45 baht beers or ‘Farangs’; I was taking the road less travelled––a train out of Bangkok to a Temple, hidden in a cave: Khao Luang Cave.
My excitement led to careless footing coming down the hostel’s steps. Crash, thump, crunch, my ankle was swelling to the size of a well fed trout. I got into the train’s economy carriage. Maybe it was the bags, the lobster red sunburn, or that I was walking with a limp; but I was met with stares.
I sat down; the old lady beside me showed me some black and white photos of the King. It was his birthday––one of the biggest events in the Thai calendar––she was going to Hoi An for the King’s parade. Another elderly lady sat opposite me; staring at my steadily ballooning ankle––not at all happy that I was resting it on the seat. It was disrespectful to do such a thing––I knew this, but I also knew that it was close to exploding if it wasn’t elevated. After a while she could take no more and decided to thump my ankle as if it were a mosquito. All I could do was cry ”MAAAAI”–– no. Did she think I was putting it on display for the hell of it?
The lady beside me prodded me and pointed to the countryside. The land was flat as a pancake, wet rice fields that went on for miles. Skinny cows with ears down to their necks. Now and then the train stopped by two-storey shacks, barely roofed. People piled out and into the fields for the village. More people got on, carrying recyclable bags so big that they put my whale bag to shame; their backs dipped under the weight of food bought to feed their family for a month.
A wave of women came through the carriage. Covered up with black shirts, jumpers, balaclavas and hats. Most wore socks and flips flops and fingerless gloves––all to keep the sun out––I was sweating like a beast, wearing shorts and a tank top. They bayed through the aisle, selling racks of chicken, large steel pots of rice, trays of meatballs in plastic bags and bags of luminous juice and cola.
The lady beside me bought ice to put on my ankle––bless her. The countryside whizzed by, more passengers sat down beside me to chat or to take pictures of them and their kids. Some spoke English and told me about the land, their history, even their own families. This was the real thailand that I was looking for––all in the economy carriage of a slow train to Phetchaburi.