Kanchanaburi, Thailand

We arrived in Kanchanaburi by public bus. I usually prefer this mode of travel to gratuitous tourist herding transport vehicles that clog the highways of SE Asia. You can see them everywhere. Their garishly graffitied exteriors bulleting down the highways spilling freon and bumping disco tunes. Stopping every time the driver knows he can get a free meal or some other form of baksheesh for corralling thirty-two sweaty, rich, and famished farang into the most dismal roadside feeding trough he can find along the way.

Public transportation by comparison is less spacious (I've had my knees up against the seat in front of me many a time), but I find it is generally a faster and much more charming way to travel here. You'll never see an old woman transporting chickens sitting next to Buddhist monk in saffron robes on a V.I.P. bus, or hear fractured war stories from a retired Laoatian soldier either.

You'll also pay more attention to your surroundings on a public bus. On a tourist bus you'll never miss your stop because chances are, everyone on this bus is going to the same spot, so why even look up from your book? On a public bus, your stop isn't necessarily the last one. In fact, you'll probably be the only one getting off there. So you'll be paying attention all right. Checking road signs from time to time, making eye contact with the ticket-taker to see if your exit point is coming up. A little paranoia can be healthy. And if you're looking around with more purpose, guess what? You might actually see something!

Did I mention the snacks are better too? On public transport, from time to time, someone will leap onto the bus selling food the locals would actually eat. Warm waffles, banana chips, dried beef with sticky rice. This is the fast food you're supposed to eat here.

I can hear some of you already, “But is it okay to eat that stuff? It hasn't been properly refrigerated, right?” Well, the truth of the matter is it probably hasn't. But just how long do you think that overpriced noodle soup with egg in it has been swilling for at that roadside stop in the middle of nowhere? Probably an awful lot longer. I'll take the stuff the locals are snatching up over the stuff that tourists are settling for any day.

But I digress. Upon arrival in Kanchanaburi we were of course immediately swarmed upon by taxi drivers. Unlike the motorized tuk-tuks of Bangkok, here the transport of choice seems to be bicycle drawn rickshaws. I did not enjoy the experience of riding in this particular mode of transportation at all. For one it's not much faster than walking. But also, it strikes me as just plain cruel. To make this man pedal us and our packs in the heat of the afternoon over two miles through heavy traffic for the paltry sum of a dollar and a half seemed incredibly distasteful to me. However, after a three hour bus ride neither of Amanda nor I felt like stumbling through the busy city with our heavy packs blindly seeking out our guesthouse. Thankfully our rickshaw driver was not only friendly, but enthusiastic about his work, and I was able to ease my conscience by giving him a decent tip.

Our first choice in guesthouses was full, but we were quickly able to find a second, at our drivers suggestion just down the road. We desperately wanted to walk there, but our new friend insisted pointing out that we had overpaid him and that he should take us there. Not wishing to insult him (or deny him the possibility of a kickback from the hotel owner) we piled back again onto the rickshaw, and rode down the road a laughable twenty yards to what was nearly the next driveway.

Most of the major guesthouses in Kanchanaburi are built along the river, and ours was no exception. To reach them one goes down a side street off of the main road, which then descends away from the din of the traffic to where these wooden bungalows rest over the infamous river Kwai. it's not quite as romantic as it sounds like it might be, but it's nice nonetheless, and positively atmospheric at nighttime. It was already late afternoon when we arrived, and most of the cities attractions were closing. So instead of site-seeing we ate, read, and slept our way through the evening, planning to get an early start the next morning at seeing some of the cities historical attractions.

The Thai Burma Railway Center

Towards the end of World War II, when the Japanese occupied much of Asia, work began on a railroad to bring supplies across Thailand, and Burma in anticipation of invading India. With Japan's war against the Allies faltering, this project was expedited in order to secure their foothold in Asia. A feat that would normally require five years to complete, was performed in just sixteen months. In order to achieve such results the Japanese employed slave labor from prisoners of war. Conditions were inhumane, and over 100,000 Thai, British, Dutch, Australian and American prisoners died as a result of overwork, sickness and starvation. Today this stretch of track is known as the Death Railway, and the horrors inflicted on it's laborers are solemnly memorialized at The Thailand Burma Railway Center in Kanchanaburi.

The museum here is quite good. Using photos, text, and scale models it weaves a fair and proper picture of what took place here from 1942-1943. The engineering feat that was accomplished here is acknowledged, and the atrocities that took place are exhaustively documented. A video containing interviews with Thai prisoners of war is especially impactful. I found their staunch stories of survival full of equal parts sadness and hope.

Next door to the museum is a cemetery containing the graves of many of the servicemen who died building the railroad. Walking amongst the endless headstones here, I marveled at how young most of the POWs who died here had been. The average age seemed to be 23-26. Many were younger. I felt a moment of guilt and pleasure in this solemn place as I crossed paths with the stream of one one of the sprinklers that watered the green grass.

Just down the street was another cemetery, this one a traditional Thai type. In the center was a large conical structure built from cement which resembled a modern take on the traditional Chedi structures I'd seen previously in ancient temples at Angkor and Ayuthaya. Surrounding these were similar, smaller versions which were individual graves. Further down we found another style of grave. These were made up of a thick, concrete slab, curved like a crescent moon suspended on it's side. They were enscripted with memorials and met with a small hill of grass extending down like a tiny hill the approximate length of a human body. Many of these traditional graves had small photographs affixed to them, presumably of the person buried there. Many offerings were laid at the bases of the graves. Incense, tea, and brightly colored ribbons among the favorites. Though curious, I felt voyeuristic wandering amongst the bodies that lay resting here, and my lack of reference to what I was seeing made me feel very removed from their culture. I have never felt at home in graveyards as many do, and so I left Amanda snapping pictures of the site, to sit across the street drinking water in the shade of a tall tree.

The Death Railway Theme Park

Perhaps the museum and graveyard had left me in a somber mood, but I couldn't help but feel cynical when we reached the site of the Bridge over the river Kwai. It was crawling with people. The bridge that was so famously destroyed years before had been rebuilt so that tourists could have their picture taken on it, smiling while licking ice creams. T-shirts were sold with pictures of a steam train barreling across the trestle that so many had died building under duress. Those who were completely detached from reality could cross the bridge in a tiny toy locomotive, choo-chooing their way across the graves of countless of thousands of World War II POWs.

But the ultimate insult lay only yards away on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks. Forgotten under the shadow of a tall white building lay a grim black wall in memory of those who had died. Clearly this memory had been erased. The wall was shabby and unkempt, the script written on it was hardly legible through the dirt it was covered with. A sharp contrast to the shiny train that stood a mere few paces away. There was no somber mood here. Nothing was memorialized besides commerce. I felt sick to my stomach. We left quickly and without hesitation.

Ko Chang, Thailand

It's 7am now, and it's been pissing rain in paradise all night long. The several items I left out to dry on my bungalow porch last night, are anything but. Despite grey skies, the view is outstanding. Concrete and plank wooden paths weave through a quaint green garden in front of me and into the distance. White bungalows dot the gently curving hillside. Local people go about their morning business, sweeping porches, stacking laundry, and gathering supplies for their days work. Sturdy palm trees stretch up to the sky, top heavy with young coconuts. Somewhere off the distance I can hear the ocean, the crashing waves fighting the songs of insects for my ears attention.

A small colorful bird perches itself atop a wicker chair on the porch of the neighboring bungalow, pausing to belt out a morning reveille that defies it's tiny frame. Like the first shot in a war, this shatters the peace, and the roosters begin their morning calls. They won't stop for the next bloody hour.

Ko Chang is Thailand's second biggest island. It contains numerous beaches, a temperate rain forest, and an abundance of tourists. Not an overabundance mind you, but the word is definitely out. And with it's convenient location on the east coast of Thailand, a mere four hours drive from Bangkok, it's no wonder more and more travelers are forgoing southern destinations like Krabi and Phuket for the beaches of Ko Chang.

There have been noticeable changes since I was last here two years ago. Upon arrival at the ferry dock, I was greeted by the grim sight of a full-color billboard advertising condos for sale on the island. I was also surprised to see that the tiny dock where a small shuttle boat had taken us across before had been replaced by a full scale ferry with a bottom level that could accommodate cars.

Once ashore though, the forty-five minute taxi ride revealed that the quiet, island charm I was looking forward to had not been entirely swept away. Sure there were super-sized resort hotels being built, and more scooters zipping down the roads, but they were, for the most part, close to the dock at places like White Sand Beach. The further we drove on the less of these there were. By the time our taxi had reached Lonely Beach, things looked pretty much as they did the day I left two years before. The dirt walkway which snakes through the woods leading from guesthouses out to the main beach has yet to be paved over, or even landscaped. The tattoo parlours, Thai massage stations, and makeshift bars that line the way are still as ragged as ever. Dirt cheap accommodations are still on hand for shoestring travelers. In short, there's still a place for backpackers in the new Ko Chang.

The beach here is small, but it's easy find yourself a private patch of sand and while away the hours with a good book, the ocean stretched out in front you. The water is warm, the faces are friendly, and the seafood on the barbecue is fresh. Amanda and I spent several days in a row here, snorkeling, kayaking to nearby islands, lounging around, and generally being lazy. Recooperating from the nightmare of the daily grind back home.

There's no shortage or restaurants and bars here, but by far the most popular is the Treehouse. The Treehouse, is a veritable institution here, having been built here back when the name Lonely Beach was more well deserved. The restaurant is basically a giant wooden deck built out over the water. Rickety and old it creaks when you walk across it. There are holes in places. Hammocks are slung between bamboo staffs, and colorful floor mats are spread out below low wooden tables. Geometrically diverse lanterns are hung off gnarled driftwood poles, emitting dim light in varying colors. Soft, tasteful music, helps construct the mood, and build energy as the night unfolds. It's a laid back wonderland, and probably my favorite place on Earth to toss back a drink or two and blow my mind on the surrounding landscape.

After a week, we felt it was probably time to move on, and I woke early this morning to pack my bag and sit on the porch one last time. The storm from the night before will no doubt make the taxi ride back through the steep winding roads of Ko Chang formidable at best. I'm not looking forward to the bus ride ahead of us, or to another night in Bangkok. But at least there I won't have to listen to this damned rooster.

Khao San Road is Decadent and Depraved...

Flying in at midnight had not been as difficult as I'd suspected it might be. The Thai aren't generally known for their efficiency, however their airport service seems to be an exception. It took less than ten minutes to clear immigration, and by the time we located the right baggage carousel our luggage was already waiting for us. Customs barely even acknowledged us. In fact, the trickiest part of out arrival turned out to be getting a legitimately priced cab ride. Barely an hour after our plane touched down we had already made our way downtown and were checking into our hotel on Khao San Road.
I never knew I could find the smell of moist air and sewage to be nostalgic, but that's exactly how I felt when I stepped out our hotel lobby and into the night air of Bangkok. At 1:30 am the streets were packed with people. British hooligans in Beer Chang and Red Bull T-shirts, young Australian girls with psychedelic sarongs wrapped around their waists, Japanese hippies with dirty dread locks, and industrious Thai people all wanting to make a buck off this sideshow of freaks. Music blasted from all directions creating a dizzying surround sound of garage rock, British pop and hardcore techno. Everyone is drunk. The ones who aren't shouting in slurred speech are laughing or stuffing their faces with cheap, delicious pad thai.
A twenty two hour series of flights and layovers had taken their toll on both our senses. I felt high. Amanda looked overwhelmed. We had barely taken three steps before the onslaught of tuk-tuk drivers approached from the curbside.
"You want tuk-tuk?" asked one short Thai man, his small, sun-weathered face beaming at me from below. Though I declined this did not dissuade another man five feet from him.
"Ping pong show?" he asked me. I smiled over at Amanda and politely declined his offer.
"All night party?" A third desperate attempt failed equally well.
Khao San Road is capitalism's ugly and inevitable conclusion. Here, no matter the time you can find almost anything you want: Cheap clothing, bootleg DVDs, unreliable electronics, food, sex. Hotel rooms cost next to nothing, and you get what you pay for. All of the reasons above make this district the obvious first stop for backpackers making their way into Southeast Asia. I've bought cheap airline tickets at 2am for flights the following afternoon, here. I've also endured watching the Passion of the Christ while having dinner and drinks.
Most experiences here will be by any standard, undeniably tacky. As authentic as the themed restaurants of Disneyland. But don't blame the Thai people for that. They're just giving the Westerners, or farang as they'd call them, exactly what they want. Everything here is non-threatening and familiar, but with a little twist. The watering hole I stopped in for drinks would be familiar to any British or Aussie sports fan. Chelsea playing Bristol on the stretched image of the flat screen in the corner. Darts and pool over near the bar. But the menu, both dinner and draft, reveal the truth of the about where we are: fresh curries for snacking and Beer Chang (the local pilsner), on tap.
Familiar, yet foreign. Chaotic, yet comforting. Khao San Road is decadent and depraved. But as a gateway to the East, it serves it's purpose. And as a weary traveler, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Final Countdown

The last couple weeks before leaving have certainly been hectic. Wrapping things up at work, packing, filling out change of address forms... I certainly believe I've spent more time on hold in the last seven days then ever before in my life.

One of the major highlights though was the going away party that was thrown for me at my house the weekend before I left.

My band Crystal Warrior played as well as Portland, Oregon's Sensory Overlord. With apologies to the neighbors we made a pretty good racket and had a very good time doing it. I got to catch up with a number of friends I hadn't spoken with in a while, and I'm greatly appreciative of all who came out for the event.

Tomorrow is the big day. I fly out at 1pm, and after a short layover in Tokyo, will be touching down in Bangkok, Thailand.