Being incapable of sleeping in can be a problem in a four person train compartment. But that isn’t the beginning of the story. When I boarded my train last evening, I confess to being a little trepidatious about who would be joining me. Being more introvert than not, I would have booked a single compartment if that were an option. There are two person compartments to be had, but I’d rather share with 3 others than just 1, all things considered.
My first bunkmate was an older, clearly unwell man. His adult son helped him to the other lower berth, helped him get situated, and then left. My eyes respectfully averted, I wondered. Next came a daughter or daughter-in-law, who performed a few ministrations, and then she too left. Then came the wife, who sat on his bunk and stayed. I wondered at the protocol, but having established we shared no common language, I fell into silence. I was so ready to sleep, but the unfolding pageant caught my interest. Then came a young man with many bags. He took the bunk above the old man, and chatted with them briefly. Then he spoke to me in English, and we were able to establish a few things. After a bit I saw the wife begin to climb into the bunk above me. I was suddenly concerned that I should have offered her mine. I didn’t mind doing that, but I hadn’t thought she would stay, although as it turned out, of course she would stay. But I also figured that someone would come on board during our journey and claim the bunk I was sleeping in, and indeed that too would have happened. But I offered to trade, via Hutong (the closest I can get to the young man’s name) as translator. He assured me she said no, that I was as old as she (he said it very diplomatically). Hutong was on his way to a work conference, and is also finishing up his master’s in automation technology. When he is done, he will return from Ho Chi Minh city to his hometown and go to work at his parents’ company.
But back to the ill man and wife. The ride was turbulent and the train seemed to scream on the tracks from time to time, so sleep came and went. At one point as I lay there trying to get more comfortable, I heard old man say one word, nothing more. It was not loud, but immediately I heard a one word response from above, and then she descended. I was very nearly moved to tears at the care and love in her speedy and unquestioning response. I don’t know, but I would guess that he is gravely ill, and I saw in her face the fear and pain of impending loss and the great cost of love. Is there anything more precious than to be loved in this way? It brought to mind my mom and dad, who having forged a marriage through thick and thin. My dad was utterly lost after my mom died, and seeing that woman’s face evoked his desperate desire to keep her with him.
This happened once more during the night, and then around 4 am, the attendant came and told them their station was coming. Wife gathered their things and left, son came and did in reverse what was done the night before. I saw in the half light the simple gestures – dad’s hand reaching out in absolute certainty that son would be there to take it, and indeed he was. And they were gone, to be replaced a minute or two later by a couple who quietly stowed their things and laid down.
An hour later, I laid there wanting to get up but I knew the new couple must not have gotten much sleep that night, having to board at 4 am. At 5:30 I stole away with my small bag in hand, and headed down the train in search of the promised restaurant car. I careened my way through about 7 cars, and then came to a locked door. Peering through, I saw that the kitchen staff were in the process of picking up their bedding and transforming the car back into a restaurant car. A man came to the door and somehow made me to understand that they would open at 6. So I waited in an empty row of seats, because it didn’t seem likely I’d bother to make the trek a second time. Besides, everyone in my compartment was sleeping.
When they opened the doors, the young waiter and I used Google translate to determine that I could get coffee and chicken. Unsure what this was, but unwilling to give up the chance at both coffee and food, I agreed. A short time later a dixie cup half full of Vietnamese coffee arrived, and then a man came by with these breadsticks and told me 30. This means 30,000 dong, which I handed over. It didn’t look like chicken but maybe this was something extra? The bread was warm and crusty and did indeed have something chicken-like inside. I sat at the wooden table and watched the early morning through the dirty window, and luxuriated in the moment.
Soon others trickled in, and I saw that pho was also on offer, but I contented myself with my chicken bread. A man silently took the bench across from me and I ordered a second coffee because the first was so good.
Back in the compartment, I met Dominic and Mel, who were awake and chatting quietly. We slid past endless rice paddies, egrets standing in the fields -and once on top of a water buffalo, but I couldn’t get a photo of that fast enough. We pulled through small towns, past more rice paddies and fields of corn, squash and other things I could not identify from the train. Dom and Mel and I variably stood in the corridor, sat in our compartment, and wandered from time to time. Food carts rolled by, and I was done with the ride before it was done with me. Some scenes from the train window . . .
And water buffalos that I hope delight you as they did me.
Interesting to note that I will be doing this again in a few days’ time, from here to Hanoi. It’s a beautiful route, seen through dust and smudge, and one I won’t need to take again. That is the way of some things, isn’t it? You don’t know without trying it whether you want to do it or not. I love train travel, but my introverted soul desires a place to retreat to from time to time. Sitting across from others, one has a social contract to fulfill, especially when they are as nice as Hutong, Mel and Dom turned out to be. But had I a retreat, I would not have witnessed the sweet and painful moments in the night.
On arrival in Danang, I did some laundry and headed out to see things. More on that to come.
To see what I could see 