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Dear all
I can't actually remember who I told what in bite-sized texts, about happenings over the last few days, so I'll just get down to business where I left off. Except I cant remember where I was, when you last heard from me. Just been plucked off the streets, I think? No, you already know all about that. It was the night before the trip to Kanchanaburi, I think.
(Pictured, the road to Kanchanaburi)
After signing off with the words, 'early night of sobriety for' I made my way seemingly by accident, to one of my local haunts on now-imfamous in the family chronicle, Kao San Road. I had just the one lar-, er, small chang (Elephant!) beer to help me mull over my, perhaps, ill-spent money on a possibly phantom trip to the River Kwai and beyond.
After much *hic* mulling, I, by stroke of virtue, found a taxi driver who was both honest and knew the way to my guesthouse. I was home by 8, packed by 9 and asleep by 2 (bloody sanda-, heat!). Thankfully, my alarm on my phone woke me up. After showering and maybe a little praying to various gods that the mini bus would turn up, I took one last check around my room, only for the Madam of the house to tell there was a man waiting down stairs to take me to Kanchanaburi! And 20 minutes early, at that! Hastily taking some memory snaps of the place and on of it's owners (of which there seemed to be three, all sisters), I half stumbled, half crawled under my bulging ruck sacks after the driver, an elderly Thai gentleman with a pair of righteous whiskers trailing down his leathery cheeks.
Two bus changes and three hours later, I was on my way to Kanchanaburi, conversing freely from my seat beside the driver (complete with his speedometer which never went above, oh, ZERO!) with a couple from New Zealand called Alistair and Toni, he a mechanic, she a vet, taking a hop-skip journey to the UK to work there. They had just come from the Philipines, and am now reliably informed that Thailand is anything but backward by comparison. They and I spent the majority of our trip listening to the German girl behind me, Clara, as she gave them detailed information of what must have been every vital detail on the Berlin tourist scene in immaculate english. But more on the Teutonic Princess, later.
We reached the War Cemetary and the Bridge itself about 10 in the morning. It was hot. It was depressing. It was a little insulting to the veterans. Tourists walking down the many rows of graves, whilst the locals set up stalls outside, eager to milk Johnny Foreigner of his or her cash. The tourists were just as bad, of which I sadly count myself among. I left a donation in a few boxes but aside from that, I was just another sun-screen-stinking, camera-wielding invader into the place.
They did allow us to walk across the bridge itself, which was certainly something. The number of holes underfeet, and the narrowness of the path would not have stood in the UK, but the Thai's seem less interested in namby-pamby safety rails and heavy duty flooring. The Kiwi said, if it had been New Zealand (apparently quite the nanny state. No offense, Nannie!) there would have been a eight foot fence sealing off the area, with ropes attached to people crossed, with life rafts waiting on the water some distance below. But this is Thailand. They don't even knew the meaning of namby, let alone pamby!
So, after the River Kwai museum (complete with papier mache mannequins in various acts of death of dying, in the name of tourism), we stopped for lunch at what would be our hotel later that day. Predictably, we had pad thai, which is basically a load of rice, with stir-fried veg and meat thrown on top with soy, chilli or sweet sauce on. At least, I think that's what it's called. I've not really tried learning the language yet.
(Pictured, the Bridge over the River Kwai)
At lunch I met Clara properly, as well as her seven-foot tall brother, named Johanness. It hard to believe but both of them were exceptionally funny, and Johan and I quickly bonded over our shared encyclopedic knowledge of The Simpsons. She is working through a Biology degree and he through a bio-chemistry one. I must admit, though, that whilst I enjoyed chatting freely and easily with the brother (his english was perfect, though he said he MUST DO BETTER! typical German perfectionism, I suppose), it was the sister who I was more interested in chatting (up), more and more so as the day went on, and she voiced her views on everything from the rampant tourism in Thailand, (complete with the understood ironies of her statements) the treatment of the animals for the tourists' benefit and the value of my smelly feet in warding off (or perhaps attracting) tigers. I was quite smitten.
(Pictured, a rather gorgeous elly.)
Unfortunately, she seemed to relish making me uncomfortable and have me running in circles about her. It did not help that her mastery of sarcasm and toyingly caustic comments were equal to mine. She, Johan and I spent the afternoon riding elephants (uncomfortable! But lots of fun. Loads of pictures, courtesy of our mohawked, 14 year old driver "You gimme money for camera back?"). Cheeky sod. What else? Oh, rafting in the baking afternoon sun along the river Kwai, ten people to a raft, and one very hard working rower. With a very small oar. The poor guy, about 18, had huge arm muscles, (I wouldn't have liked to arm wrestle with him) yet even he was sweating buckets and panting and near collapse by the time we got down river to our get-off point.
Effy (well it was something beginning with F,I think), a guy from Greece, who I shared my elephant (who I called John Merrick) with was tempted to jump in the river, as even he found the heat too much. However, he decided against it, since we had all used the floating house toilet facilities....that is to say dumping various unmentionables doesn the toilet, directly in the river.(Pictured, a mahout - driver - climbing an elephant's trunk. As you do.)
After the raft trip, we crossed what can only be the bridge that that one in INdianna Jones and The Temple of Doom was based on. THe only difference was that it wasn't quite as high (but still high enough!) and it was held up by cables. Very thin and rusty cables. There were inummerable holes in the bridge. It was tasked to me to help a squealing Japanese grandmother and her equally anxious granddaughter across the bridge, for which they were profusely and quite embaressingly appreciative of. I'll be honest. I made the bridge wobble on purpose at times. So worth it, to hear the screams!
The last stop of the day before nightfall and Thai lady-boy karaoke, was a rather steep waterfall (which paled in comparison compared to the one seen the next day) and not much else. Actually, I tell a lie, we went on the Death Railway before dinner. It was a disturbingly pleasant experience, with the beautiful scenery and enjoyable company of Johaness, Clara and a 20 year old Danish girl named Xena (oh, sorry, I mean Sidjne). I felt quite guilty for enjoying the ride afterwards, when the thought of toiling prisoners building that railway filled my mind.
(Pictured, four elephant riders of the Apocalypse. Johannes, Clara, Me and a Greek guy named Effy)
After this, we went back for pad thai (again) and heavy drinking (in my case...no one else seemed to be). Before dinner, Johanness and I met a pair of Japanese guys (a few years younger than me) named Hiroki and Mikune who looked like gang members with their earrings, smoking and bandanas but couldn't reallly pull it off without looking charming, because of their inherrant Japanese humilty and politeness. In typical German bluntness, Johan asked them about their feelings on Japan in the War, amongst other things. They didn't seem to mind the questions. We saw our first glimpse of tropical rain as we put our feet up and chatted beside the slowly flowing river, and listening to wakening creatures in the jungle across the river.
And that's all for now, since I don't know how much they charge here in the cafe, and I've been here an hour and a half. I'll write the second part tomorrow, including such delights as thieving monkeys, mile high cascades, black bird sized butterflies and ignoring warnings not to swim in tropical waters. And of course, the trip south to Ko Samui, on which I now reside for the next week. Or less, if it proves too much, in which case I will make a run for Ko Tao, a decidely quieter place.
Tomorrow, like every other farang (Westerner) here, I shall hire myself a moped and explore this rather large island. Wish me luck!\
Lots of love, hope you're all well! Keep in touch! I enjoy reading your emails back. Reminds me of home but without making me homesick (yet...)
(Pictured, the River Kwai at dusk)
Jamie
xxxxx
P.S To answer your various questions -
- US dollars
- No, I have not been mixing illicit substances together
- I'm quite gullible but if you were here it would happen to you too, at first. I guaruntee it! Everyone I've spoken to has been scammed, no matter how minor. The ubiquitous phrase that shows you as a Bangkok visitor to other travellers is to utter the words "Good for you, good for me!" in immitation of the various touts.
- Best not send these emails off to an editor yet. Besides, I reckon lots of people do that. It might be more appealing than my last couple of failed novels, though! I'll certainly keep it in mind.
- Good to hear I got the trip quite cheap overall, if not in local terms. Phew!
- Yes, the bungalow is on stilts with a thatch roof, but it also has a big ceiling fan, a flush toilet, shower and cupboards. And is 2 mins walk from the beach. Now to remember how to get back there from here...
- I may well have caught the travel bug. The good kind. The bad one hasn't found me....yet.
- Chang beer is quite a bit more potent than most beers here, including imported Euro beers but it hasn't scoured me out yet. Perhaps I need to start drinking more of it? I even bought a Chang Beer t shirt!
(Pictured, some rather dashing fellow, subduing a mighty giant)
Be in touch tomorrow! :)
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