Singapore to Bangkok: Train journey through Malaysian cities, scenic countryside and tasty food scene

Even in 2026, the fastest way to get from Singapore to Malaysia is a five-minute ride on the diesel-powered Shuttle Tebrau, which takes passengers from the Woodlands train checkpoint in Singapore to the Johor Bahru Sentral transport hub in Malaysia.

But the shuttle’s time is soon coming to an end. By mid-2027, it is scheduled to cease operations and be replaced by a new rail link connected to Singapore’s underground railway system, departing from nearby.

The coming change prompts a closer look at the rail connections between the two countries.

Journeys into Malaysia by train were one of the most common holidays for Singaporeans before the rise of low-cost regional airlines in the early 2000s. Rail connections have also been disrupted by political developments. That’s too bad, because a long rail journey is a great opportunity to see the Malaysian countryside, with plenty of places to stop along the way.

Read the latest edition of ROAM now.

And so, on a sweltering afternoon, a 16 Malaysian ringgit ($5.60) ticket secures a seat on the shuttle, kicking off a week-long journey to Bangkok, with stops in the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur and the state of Penang, to eat and explore.

Each leg takes between an hour and four and a half hours, except for an overnight ride to Bangkok. The whole trip takes seven days and six trains. Train tickets cost about $190 in total, and two nights in each city bring the total spend to approximately $2000 on hotels, meals, transport and other expenses.

After the shuttle journey comes the Electric Train Service, an intercity rail service, from JB Sentral to Kuala Lumpur. The direct connection, which had begun service three months earlier to great fanfare, has cut travel time between the two cities to four and a half hours, from seven. Tickets are available via the rail operator KTMB’s app.

The six-car train is not the equal of the high-speed rail services of China or Japan, but business class — at a cost of 171 ringgit ($60) — offers reclining seats and plenty of legroom.

One of the best places to eat in Kuala Lumpur, renowned for its food scene, is the open-air Jalan Alor Food Street. A century old, it has everything from barbecued seafood to Chinese Muslim cuisine to the ubiquitous satay. Among the highlights is a magnificent rougamo, often called a Chinese burger, consisting of small strips of slow-cooked pork stuffed into a flaky bun.

But arguably the best meal comes at lunch the following day at the renowned Village Park Restaurant in nearby Petaling Jaya. On the menu is nasi lemak, the national dish: coconut rice accompanied by crispy fried chicken, peanuts, strips of cucumber and sweet sambal chilli with a real kick.

Before lunch, there’s a detour to the otherworldly Batu Caves, a limestone cave complex on the outskirts of the city housing a series of Hindu temples and shrines. Inside the caves, a major pilgrimage site, the air is redolent of incense and long-tailed macaques gambol everywhere.

Every tourist wants a selfie. “Oh, she’s got a baby!” exclaims a British woman about a monkey cradling her infant. Fittingly, there’s a giant statue of the monkey-like deity Hanuman.

A 140-foot-high golden statue of the war god Murugan perches near a colourful 272-step staircase that leads to the Sri Subramaniar Swamy temple. It’s a dizzying climb in the midday heat, accompanied by nonchalant monkeys leaping everywhere. At the top, the reward is the sight of towering rock formations that have formed over millions of years.

The trip resumes the next day with a three-and-a-half-hour business-class ride (175 ringgit, $62) on a sleek and modern train to the town of Butterworth, alongside many British and Australian families. When passengers disembark for a catamaran to George Town — the capital of Penang and a UNESCO World Heritage site — the crowd also reveals plenty of Chinese and Korean accents. Tickets cost two ringgit (70c) for the 10-minute ride.

Penang is often called Malaysia’s culinary capital. You can find an amazing variety of street food, such as char koay teow, or flat rice noodles stir-fried with ingredients like prawns, chives, bean sprouts and lard. A plate at the Michelin-rated Siam Road Charcoal Char Koay Teow costs just 10 ringgit ($3.50), and it’s savoury and spicy, infused with wok hei, or smoky flavour.

Penang has also become associated with the murals of Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic, who rose to global acclaim in 2012 after creating a series of six street-art murals depicting daily life in Malaysia. A combination of painting and objects like a bike or a motorbike, the murals invite interaction, and tourists gather to get photos with them. Other murals have also sprung up around them.

At Penang Hill, a nature reserve just outside the city, another train awaits: a 1.2-mile funicular railway to the summit. Built by the British in 1924, it is reminiscent of the funicular at The Peak in Hong Kong. For the panoramic view of George Town, the lower end of the train offers the best vantage point for the five-minute journey.

From there, the route continues to The Habitat, a mile-long nature trail built by the British East India Company in the early 1800s. It sits on the edge of a rainforest reserve. With the sounds of cicadas ringing and the sight of langurs casually grooming each other, there’s time to wipe the sweat off a brow and savour the trail.

The longest leg of the trip begins with a two-hour train ride from Butterworth to the town of Padang Besar, which straddles the border between Malaysia and the Thai province of Songkhla. The train is packed with backpackers and day-trippers en route to the Thai town of Hat Yai, a popular weekend destination for Malaysians, where the next stop is a sleeper train to Bangkok.

While the popular option is to hire a communal van for a 90-minute ride, there are three trains a day from Padang Besar to Hat Yai; tickets can only be bought on site for eight ringgit ($2.80). The six-carriage train operated by State Railway of Thailand is decidedly spartan, with overhead fans and a thick sheen of dust on the windows. It also leaves around 20 passengers wilting in 32C weather for 30 minutes.

When the train finally pulls into Hat Yai Junction station, the evening crowd is waiting. Vendors carrying their wares in baskets reach up to sell food through the train windows. There, it’s time to board the sleeper train bound for Krung Thep Aphiwat Central Terminal Station in Bangkok, the largest railway station in South-East Asia. The train, an air-conditioned oasis in the heat with seating for more than 400, departs on time for the 15-hour ride.

For about 1800 baht (about $77), a first-class ticket gets you a private cabin with two seats that convert into beds, lockable doors and a sink, albeit shared with another passenger. A second-class ticket costs just over 1000 baht ($43). Tickets can be purchased from platforms like Thai Railways or Baolau.

A couple of hours later, train workers convert the seats into upper and lower berths with curtains for privacy. The arrangement is reminiscent of military barracks, where a dozen men share double-decker bunks in a single room. It’s cosy, if somewhat claustrophobic, and the ride tests the limits of a 45-year-old spine.

In spite of numerous travel influencers’ warnings that train-engine noise makes it hard to fall asleep, the night passes in relative peace. The only regret: not choosing the lower berth, which has a window. On the top berth, all there is to do is stare at the ceiling.

In the morning, a staff member is waiting impatiently to convert the berths back into seats as the train rolls into Bangkok. It’s time to explore, starting with a meal at Funky Lam Kitchen, where the descendants of two Laotian princes serve up modern Lao cuisine. The spicy, earthy and sour flavours leave a craving for more.

On the last day, the itinerary turns to Song Wat, a trendy district brimming with cafes, street art and amazing food. The streets and narrow alleyways hold surprises around every corner — here, a building adorned with a mural of two tumbling elephants; there, a delightful cafe sitting in a two-storey shophouse.

At the Michelin-rated Urai Braised Goose, chaos reigns amid a questionable queue system governed not so much by the sequence of numbers as by the mood of the servers. It takes almost an hour to get a seat, but the reward is thin, flavourful strips of goose meat with a spicy dip and rice.

Despite the humidity, Song Wat demands hours of exploration, before the Sleep Like Cats cafe offers refuge. As an iced milk tea is sipped, the owner’s orange tabby — or perhaps the real owner — ambles past and stares curiously. The cat gets a stare in return, along with a moment to reflect on the distance travelled to get here.