At the first announcement of the incoming train, absolute chaos ensued: vendors rushed to withdraw their canvas stands, scurried to bring in their products, and motioned toward the tightly packed crowd of tourists to stand behind the red line.
Many tourists ran onto the railroad, snatching a quick photo for their social media posts. However, most of the tourists (including myself) craned our necks from the shade and safety of the roadside, eagerly awaiting the train’s arrival.
This summer, I visited the Mae Klong Market in Bangkok, Thailand. This Thailand attraction is often called the “life-risking market” since all the shopping happens right on the train tracks. Tarps and umbrellas cover a vibrant display of meats, seafood, vegetables, fruits, and, of course, a variety of elephant-themed items. Colors were packed next to each other like a hastily assembled set of Legos. As I made my way through the stalls and the sticky, humid air, I was unconvinced that everyone and everything would be moved in time for the train—not until I saw it unfold before my eyes. When the signal came, all the shopping halted as people hurried to the sides and vendors cleared their obstructing goods. A red and green-streaked train crept awkwardly into the narrow alley, squirming through its nearby surroundings. The train chugged only a few feet away from my face. Through the open windows, people on the train smiled and waved to those outside, and I even received a high-five from the train’s conductor!
The train left as quickly as it came. Once it was past, vendors reassembled their stands, groups of people converged on the railroad, and the bustling sounds of buying and selling resumed. Something about this experience really resonated with me, not only because I was able to see the diverse livelihoods of a country a world away from mine, but also—as cliche as it sounds—I was touched by the gathering of so many people to witness just one thing: the miracle of a train tip-toeing its way across the seemingly impossible path.