Janice Horton - The Backpacking Housewife - Escape around the world with this feel good novel about second chances!

I smile. ‘It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind.’

‘And what about you, Lori. Do you have a job waiting for you in the UK?’

I shrug. ‘I was a housewife. But, like you, I now realise I have other options.’

‘So how long do you plan to stay in Thailand?’ she asks me.

‘Well, I only have a thirty-day tourist visa and I’ve used up seven of those days already, but I’m thinking of heading south. I hear the islands on the Andaman Sea are stunning and, for some reason, I feel the need to be by the sea right now. Somewhere to relax in the sunshine.’

Polly rolls her eyes in pleasure. ‘Oh, yes. Tiny tropical islands, palm trees, white sand beaches, warm clear waters. It’s known as the Maldives of Thailand down there. From Krabi, you can island hop all the way down the Andaman Sea to Langkawi in Malaysia. I did it earlier this year. You really should go. Three weeks might be long enough, if you pace it right’

I stare at her in wide-eyed wonder and in envy of her confidence.

‘And do you think it’s best to fly back to Bangkok en route to Krabi?’ I ask her.

Polly sips her coffee and shakes her head. ‘I’d suggest from here you take the train to Bangkok and then the bus over to Krabi. Then you can use a combination of ferries and long-tail boats to take you all the way down the coast stopping off at as many islands as you wish.’

I take out my notebook and jot down her advice on a new page that I’ve titled, ‘Top Travel Tips’.

‘And so, when I eventually reach Malaysia, what would you recommend I see there?’

‘You should definitely explore Langkawi and then head over to Kuala Lumpur. From KL you can head over to the Malaysian side of Borneo. I spent a month there and highly recommend it.’ She flicks through photos on her phone and shows me one of her holding a gorgeous baby orangutan. ‘This is Peanut. He’s just one year old. He’s just like a human baby. He lives at this orangutan orphanage in Borneo where I volunteered. He was rescued from the jungle and now he gets to play in the nursery with other older orphans and learn the skills that will eventually lead to him being rehabilitated and released back into the forest reserve to live wild once more.’

Little Peanut is so tiny and has such a cute face, with his round bright eyes and spiky red hair.

My heart swells just looking at him. ‘That’s so fantastic. Can anyone go there to help with the orangutans or do you have to have special qualifications?’

‘You don’t need qualifications, although relevant experience might help. I think you just need to care deeply about the animals and the rehabilitation programme. In return, you get meals and lodgings and to help an endangered species. It’s so worthwhile.’

Polly happily scribbles down the name of this sanctuary for me in my notebook.

‘It’s called the Northern Borneo Orangutan Orphanage and it’s run by the Goldman Global Foundation. If you do an internet search it’ll give you all the details and contact information.’

‘Thanks Polly. I’ll look into it. I loved doing voluntary work back in the UK for various causes, including animal charities, so maybe they’d consider all of that relevant experience. And, just to recap, you say that taking a train is far the best way for me to get from here down to the coast?’

‘Yes. It’s a bit of a journey but it’s the cheapest and certainly the most scenic way to get back to Bangkok from here. It’ll take either all day or all night, but that’s part of the fun, right?’

I feel so glad that I’ve met Polly. She’s inspired me with confidence, given me some brilliant travel tips, and provided me with a lifeline as to how I might find direction and purpose in my new life. Later on, I check the train timetable and the bus route that she’d suggested to me.

I find she was right about the train taking all day or all night, as you could choose either the daytime train or the nighttime sleeper for the twelve-hour journey to Bangkok. Polly had said that travellers, especially backpackers, generally prefer the night train as it saves on the cost of a hostel and the fare for both journeys is much the same.

Conversely, I eventually decide on taking the daytime train, because that way I’ll get to spend the whole day looking out of the window at the Thai countryside as I travel from north to south. I’m not at all fazed by the length of the journey. I’m already hooked on the romantic notion of taking an old train on what is said to be an iconic journey through Thailand.

It sounds to me like a great adventure.

Although, on further investigation, I think Polly has rather underplayed the second leg of the trip from Bangkok to Krabi by bus. I discover this journey will take another gruelling ten hours or possibly longer. So, I make an executive decision for myself and decide, that after taking the daytime train, I’ll save being squashed into a small bus in the pitch dark with lots of sweaty hippies heading to full moon parties on the beach and spend a bit extra on staying overnight in Bangkok once more. That way, I have the more convenient option of a two-hour flight over to Krabi the following morning. It sounds like baht well spent to me.

Just as I’m about to leave the homestay for the train station, Noon and Polly kindly come out to wave me off. I hug them both and thank them for their kindness.

Noon bows gracefully and wishes me kar deinthang mi khwam sukkh (happy travels).

Polly wishes me good luck. ‘Oh, Lori, I forgot to say just one more thing!’ she yells, as I’m just about to depart in a tuk-tuk. I stick my head out of the cab in anticipation of another pearl of her wisdom. ‘Yes, what is it?’ I ask her eagerly.

‘If you pay a few extra baht for the first-class carriage, you’ll get air conditioning!’

At the train station at Chiang Mai, which was so authentically Asian that it looked like either something from a classic movie set or a bygone era of train travel, I stand for over half an hour in a long and sweaty line of people queuing for a train ticket. When it eventually gets to my turn, I’m told I should have pre-booked if I wanted to travel first-class, because today the carriage is full. So, I walk away past life-sized statues of elephants and garland-wrapped effigies, with my rucksack on my back and a second-class ticket in my hand.

Perhaps I should be grateful that I hadn’t been reduced to riding third-class (on the roof perhaps?) but I must admit to feeling a little apprehensive at what might be in store for me over the next twelve hours or more on a packed train with no air conditioning.

On Platform 3, I see the train to Bangkok with its bright jewel-coloured livery. She looks as gloriously original as I’d hoped she would and I’m thrilled to bits. This is like stepping back in time. I remember how, many years ago, when I was still new to the travel agency business, a client had asked me to organise an epic train journey for him on the Trans-Siberian route – the world famous six-thousand-plus-mile journey across Russia. During the detailed planning stages of his itinerary, I’d often dreamt of taking the epic journey too and after talking at great length to the client afterwards about his amazing experiences, I’ve been left with a romanticised view of long train journeys on classic trains.

I show my ticket to a uniformed guard and he kindly escorts me to my carriage.

It’s several carriages along the platform and past the first class one with air conditioning.

As we trot past it, I try hard not to feel envious of those settling into big comfortable looking velour wrapped seats with headrests and elaborately curtained windows. I follow the guard along the platform to my second-class carriage and settle myself into a vinyl wrapped seat by a window that has no blind or curtain to filter out the heat or glare from the blazing sun.