Up, ready, packed, and “ex-Marine” wore a new pair of beige trousers in honor of this “Upper Class” journey.

It was pitch black, inside and outside, at the train station with people sleeping on the platform floor. The train pulled into Mandalay station on time, but there were no light in the cars. Since it was the “Daylight Express,” why would anyone need lights? Burmese reasoning. Rose used candles and flashlights to light our way on to the dark train and help find our seats. Our “Upper Class” seats had a cushion on the hard wood seats and backs…other than that, there was no difference between “Upper Class” and steerage.

The train left promptly at 5:00am with Joan and Norman sitting across from us. …View image… I loved Joan – she was always dressed immaculately (unlike myself, a “grunge” victim…View image…), huge Gucci Tote (the real thing) in hand, loaded to the brim with essentials…cans of RAID, candy, wipes, tissues…whatever you needed, appeared like magic out of that tote. A sweet person and wonderful trooper!

Joan had a Gucci Tote loaded with all necessities in Burma

As daylight started to flood the train, we discovered just how bad this train was – it was not one of the “Great Trains of the World” – and the realization that there were still 13 plus hours to go completely depressed us.

There was no air-conditioning…the fans mounted in the ceiling didn’t work…

a train from hell in Burma, 1968 (no wonder the Japanese abandoned it!)…

…and the open windows were the only source of ventilation. As the train putt-putted along at a speedy 30-35 mph clip, huge amounts of coal dust and dirt were settling on us at a alarming rate. Remember “ex-Marine’s” new pants? Between the coal dust and a ripe tomato some kid threw into our car with excellent aim, they never came clean. Bye-bye pants! In a short time, everyone was unrecognizable – filthy dirty.

Folks…you ain’t heard nothin yet! The toilet was a hole chopped in the floor with swarms of mosquitoes, flies, and who knows what else, just hovering, waiting to attack when you dropped your pants. And while squatting, you could watch the train tracks whizzing by under your backside. Dehydration and constipation sounded good to all of us. (This is not a joke…the train was left by the Japanese and Allies after WWII and probably hadn’t been cleaned since then.)
The first few hours weren’t too bad. At every one of the many stops, food vendors jumped on (or stood along on the tracks) trying to sell whatever they had. Kettles of tea…View image, roasted chicken, fruits, eggs..and skewered birds complete with head, feathers and feet, tastefully arranged on a platter.

How about a nice chicken, feathers, beak and all? Burma 1968

selling, who knows what in Burma, 1968

The time crawled by and hours still remained…