In Thailand I saw a western man wearing a t-shirt with the words ‘Its not Same Same‘ on the front and ‘Its totally f***ing different!‘ on the back (excuse the language).

I now wonder if he’d had a similar experience to us at some point…

To back-track a bit: we’d bought two sets of tickets in Saigon: Saigon to Phan Thiet and our overnight onward journey – Binh Thuan to Hue. The ticket office lady, with a casual wave of her hand, had assured Kylie that Phan Thiet and Binh Thuan were “same same”. Even so – it seemed odd that the ongoing journey would depart from a different station to the one we’d be arriving in.

The first train journey was very smooth (with the exception of the woman retching and snorting very loudly a couple of seats back from us) and we spent a very relaxed couple of days in Mui Ne at the Mui Ne Backpacker Village, lazing by the pool or on the beach. Then we were ready to move on again.

A couple things you should know at this point:

1. Kylie hates cutting it close when it comes to public transport
2. Graham hates cutting it close when it comes to public transport

With our train due to leave at 10:20pm we were outside on the street at 9:20 and in a taxi at 9:25. As is tradition in these parts the taxi driver first established that we were English and then declared himself a staunch Chelsea fan (its not always Chelsea – mercifully). Frank (as I’ll call him from now on) had no idea where Birmingham was but he knew West Brom and Aston Villa very well. Someone should really market a map of England with just football team names on it…

We enjoyed some stilted banter for a while, knowing we’d be nice and early at the station. We politely disagreed about just how wonderful the pungent smell of fish sauce was as Frank drove us past what I presume must have been the Worlds Largest Fish Sauce Factory. And we shared our mutual disgust at the way motorcycle drivers rode, our simple chat punctuated with shakes of the fist (Frank) and chuckles (Kylie).

At 9:50pm we passed the Phan Thiet station. Alarm bells started to ring in our heads. Frank reassured us, telling us that for trains heading north you use the other station, Binh Thuan. He seemed pretty confident so we were placated. We drove on in the darkness.

At 10pm I asked how much further it was. ‘7km’ said Frank. It turns out that a ‘Frank Kilometer’ is similar to ‘Tom Kelsey Mile’ – for those of you familiar with that somewhat elastic measurement. We explained that our train was leaving at 10:20 – just checking we were nearly there. Frank just turned and gave us a winning smile. ‘Schumacher!’ he exclaimed – and floored it. ‘Oh great – so this is how I die’ I thought as we started overtaking everything. Frank Schumacher was loving it – one hand steering while the other alternated between the horn and his mobile phone with his foot glued to the gas pedal.

As the Frank Kilometers rolled on and the time ticked away, our emotions gradually morphed: mild concern became worry and frustration before tumbling through stress, panic, rage and finally despair. Thanks to that ticket office woman’s misleading reassurance we were in the middle of nowhere with a huge taxi bill, about to miss an expensive train ride and we’d have to fork out for another expensive taxi ride back, an extra night at a hostel and another train ride the next day!

Finally, at 10:20 on the dot, we shot into the station and screeched to a halt. Throwing money and thanks at Frank, we grabbed our bags and sprinted through the small station. The train was there! We ran straight into the nearest door, discovered it was our carriage, found our cabin and burst into it laughing with relief and elation, just as the train started moving.

‘Same same’ she said….

The overnight train ride itself was excellent. We shared a four-berth air-conditioned cabin with a couple of lads from Germany and France and slept soundly on comfy mattresses complete with plump pillow and duvet. We awoke the next morning to panoramic views of green forests hugging sandy beaches with the South China Sea stretching out beyond.

If you find yourself in Vietnam, definitely ride the trains. Just make sure you get to the station in good time…