I'm separating this next passage into its own post because I don't want it to taint my experience at the national park. After returning to Hua Hin, I decided I was going to try to get a night train back to Bangkok rather than stay in an overpriced hostel in town. I learned that the next train left at midnight, so I went out to find some dinner and explore what little there was of Hua Hin. As is customary in all thai tourist towns, there was a night bazaar. I cannot express the level of my disdain for these night bazaars. They are not normal markets; they are designed specifically to appeal to the lowest common denominator of tourist, and they are all virtually identical across the country. Every 10 stalls, the merchandise repeats itself: 1. cheap scarves, 2. beer t-shirts, 3. wooden elephants, 4. plastic jewelry, 5. fisherman pants, 6. bootleg videos/cds, 7. hot shorts, 8. linen shirts, 9. fake Billabong boardshorts, 10. flower print dresses, repeat pattern. I'm beginning to wonder if the tourists even make it out of the airport before being flanked in fisherman pants. It's as if they think coming to Thailand is akin to going to the moon, and you would never wear your normal clothes to the moon, right? You'd have to find local "moon clothes" so that you blended in with the moon people and adapted to the moon climate. As if their white skin were not enough of a giveaway, tourists have to wear a travel uniform: fisherman pants, expensive faux-camouflauge jungle apparel, linen shirts, etc. I can only complain so much, though, before I become a hypocrite because I draw the line at jean pants--Thailand is just too bloody hot for them.
Anyway, after wasting as much time as possible in Hua Hin, I return to the train station to wait some more, only to find out that my train is late, so it is after 1 a.m. before it pulls into the station. I had been wondering why my return ticket had cost me 1/3 the price of my ticket into town, and I soon found out--it was a third-class train, and already packed, packed. There were people sleeping on newspapers on the floor in between the seats and people standing in the isles, and the few that woke up to see me walk in gave a hearty chuckle at what must have been my look of shock. I have ridden third class trains before, but I always boarded on the first stop, so I had time to adjust to the density of bodies. After a few moments, I managed to find my seat, which was being slept in already. I awoke the sleeping man and squeezed myself into the tiny space between him and the window. This was a tough, uncomfortable, slow, non-airconditioned 5 hour train ride, but not one that I regret.