Folding awnings shade a narrow alleyway covered with makeshift market stalls. They mostly consist of
plastic baskets filled with vegetables, fruits, eggs, grains and spices.

Sometimes, there is only a thin sheet of foil stretched directly on the ground.Meat stalls are much more hi-tech. A high table with an aluminium top and separate containers for ribs, offal and other parts seems to be the peak of technical achievement in comparison to the fruit and veggie neighbours.

Tradeswomen sit on plastic chairs squeezed between groceries. With their customary singing-like voice,
they persuade customers to buy their and only their products. When the negotiations are successful,
ladies quickly and efficiently load the goods into the purchaser’s linen bag. Under floral aprons, their
colourful blouses frantically flash in rainbow chaotic streaks. Just to be brought to a standstill and back
on a plastic chair minutes later, until the next transaction.

Suddenly, a sharp and loud whistle cuts through a typical market buzz. At this sign, with skills mastered
over the years, stall owners start to fold all awnings. In the blink of an eye, the canvas roof that existed
just seconds ago disappears. At the same time, trays with fruits and veggies pulled out from the alley
reveal a secret of the market – rail tracks running through its heart.

Just seconds after the last stall disappears from the metal railway strings, the train rolls in. Mere
centimetres separate its sides from faces of vendors and tourists with their cameras ready for action.
Those who want to take the best shot frantically jump forth and back across the tracks, giving
saleswomen heart attack and activating their choral warning lament. Almost as loud as a whistle of the
train siren itself, which also cautions persistent adrenaline rush seekers.

The slowing train stops several meters away at Maeklong Station and like a world-known celebrity poses
for photos with tourists.