How to Avoid Getting Staph on a Train in Thailand

Well, don't wear short shorts for starters. If you've had Staph once (high school for me), you avoid any situation of a possible reoccurrence at all costs.

We entered a sleepy train station early one morning in Bangkok, Thailand to catch a train to the Thai/Cambodian border. Delicious smells of bread and meat wafted from the food carts preparing for another work day, making my stomach growl. The forms of homeless beggars lined the outside walls of the station.

We boarded our train, finding a whole booth unoccupied! The car was stuffy, so the windows went up immediately to allow a cool breeze to pass through. Our journey began. We had been warned about the trains in Thailand. They were rarely on time and very slow.

Chillin with our nice AC

It was a weekday, with workforce traffic in full swing. We passed many car parks packed with vehicles (how did these people get their cars out?!) and concrete buildings. At each stop, swarms of people boarded the train. The body heat and sun rising caused  me to break a sweat (ok I'll admit the back of my legs sweat the most…). Trevor was large enough to fill his own bench, but I had a woman plop down next to me, arms full of various items. I didn't mind much until (Disclaimer: I'm a bit of a germaphobe) she took her sandals off and put her feet on the bench in front of her. Ack!!!

Ok, I must give the back story of why this bothered me so much. One year in high school a girl had a severe staph infection on her foot (rumors circulated it possibly needed to be amputated…high schoolers are mean). She had a P.E. class before mine and I assume she put her foot up on the seat I proceeded to sit down on, because next thing I know, I got staph!

Back to Thailand. I chose to wear short shorts for this train ride (stupid). The backs of my legs were sweating, the lady put her feet on the seat, and the realization soon hit (as I looked around) that ALL of the seated train riders did this! I immediately thought of my staph incident and scooted to the edge of the bench so none of my skin touched (as my mom reads this, I'm sure she's saying, "Typical Becky.") I stared out the window for a distraction.

My gaze came upon a woman cooking meat on a cart in the middle of a street intersection. Her voice carried to the train, calling possible patrons. The smell of the meat made my stomach turn. The setting was quite dismal. The car parks and concrete buildings were replaced by tin shacks parted by tarps, piles of trash, and half-naked children running around. We were now passing through the slums of Bangkok.

I witnessed poverty in Peru, but not to this extent. My eyes were opened to the meaning of slums. As the train was passing (at a very slow pace at this point), people were running and jumping on the train, jumping off when they reached their destination. Ladies entered the train carrying baskets of meat and exotic fruit. Trevor loves street food and wanted to try the meat, but I persuaded him to try the fruit instead (we were passing through slums!). The colorful and foreign fruit dazzled us; white-fleshed fruit with black specks for seeds. Trevor enjoyed the sweet flavor.

One particular image was seared into my mind. As we were passing through the slums, an old man was sitting atop a tin-roof shack raising his hand, as if calling to the train. He had naught but some kind of undergarments. What really moved me was the emaciated, skeletal form of his body. I had only seen Holocaust pictures of this sort, never in real life. I gasped in shock. He made me reflect on the way we live our lives, everything we have, and I felt awful! Here we were, sitting on a train with our digital cameras and cell phones, eating breads and fruits.

Studies show that the poorest American is still wealthier than a large percentage of the world's population. Realizing this, our "first world" complaints seem petty compared to those of true poverty. I am sitting on a bench worried about getting staph on my butt, as I pass by people who are dying from horrible diseases and hunger.

Lesson 1: Don't wear short shorts on trains.
Lesson 2: Stop complaining about "first world" problems, such as your Wifi being too slow, or not being able to upgrade to the newest cell phone available
Lesson 3: Patience. That train ride was 6 hours long!
Lesson 4: If you see a monk, talk to him! Many times they want to practice their English! (I regret not talking to this one we saw on the train).