Note: I wrote this on my Tuesday night. It is now Thursday night for me and I'm in Chain Mai. I wasn't able to upload it due to a bad internet connection. It's more sombre than I normally am, but I thought it was still worth posting.
Yesterday I arrived in Kanchanaburi, a town just about 2 hours out of Bangkok. I'm actually headed way north, to Chaing Mai, and I decided to come here for a day just to break up the insanely long bus/train ride. There isn't a lot to do here for me, as many actractions offered here are better in Chaing Mai, but it was enough to fill the day.
First, my hostel's location rocks. Check this out.
Those are the rooms, floating on the River Khwae (Kwai). I'm in one on the first raft in the lower right corner. The view is neat. I'm also constantly being watched by these guys, who are also fun. Julie, if you're reading this, you'd have fun here. The geckos are everywhere.
The humidity here is killing me. I'll have had 3 showers by the time the day is done. I hope the north is cooler.
I started the day with a walk to the railway bridge built over the river. If you don't know, this bridge and the rail line following through the limestone cliffs between here and Burma were constructed by Allied POWs and local human labor. This was brought on by the Japanese during their invasion of Thailand and the surrounding areas during World War II. They wanted the railway finished quickly so that they could move supplies into Burma and further their campaign into India. Although engineers estimated construction would take 5 years, the Japanese army forced it's completion in roughly 6-12 months. They worked day and night, with basically hand tools. Fires lit their way at night, causing one local pass through the cliffs to get the name Hellfire Pass. Between 15,000-20,000 allied POWs (mainly Australian, Dutch, and British) and 80,000-100,000 SE Asians died during the construction of the bridge. They died of illness, of disease, of accidents, of bombings, and of brutality. After all of that, the bridge was destroyed by the Allied forces shortly after completion and wasn't rebuilt until after the war. The rail line on the Burmese side was never repaired.
I learned all of this at the bridge. Of course, I recognized how horrible this all was, but still I walked away fine, having walked across the bridge and snapped a few pictures.
Later on, after lunch, I decided to walk down the other end of town. I came across two cemeteries, one Thai and one a war cemetery, situated alongside each other. My first stop was the Thai cemetery. It was beautiful, with the exception of some vandalism, and very peaceful. Very different from an American cemetery, as you can see.
I then stepped into one of the larger war cemeteries here. It was beautiful, with flowers growing at every single grave marker. I read somewhere that the Thai people were very kind to the Japanese POWs once Japan lost the war. As a result of their kindness even after such atrocities had been commited on their people, many Japanese felt a need to atone for their actions. Many either errected the monuments to the dead or maintained the cemerteries and war locations out of honor and respect. The local japanese community continue this today, so perhaps that is why this cemetery was like a garden.
I began to walk among the many grave markers, reading names, nationalities, ages, and final words placed by the family. I'll be honest, I don't think I got 20 feet in before I was crying openly, and hard. I didn't know these men. But I knew that these were people who were loved, leaving grieving mothers and infant children behind. A majority of them were under 25 years old. I walked the entire cemetery, finally seeing what war had done here. This place was markedly different from the peaceful Thai plot that lay along its border. Those in the Thai cemetery had past on for any number of reasons, but for most it was simply old age. They lived and died as they should have. The allied cemetery, in stark contrast, should not exist. Not a single man should lay there, yet thousands do, taken from their families unnaturally early. I cried the entire time I was there and am even tearing up again as I write this. War is not nameless or faceless, as our press would lead us to believe. It's not numbers and speaches from a podium thousands of miles away. It's men and women, children, families.
Please, take a moment to look at a little of what I saw. These men deserved better. The best we can do is remember them and all others who died needlessly during that, and every, war. If a veteran is still in your life, thank them for giving us all that we have now and be grateful that you still have them.
Finally, the day wasn't all tears. I was rather sombre as I walked home, and probably looked it. I passed a little old lady sitting in a store front and she smiled at me. Out of respect, I said hello in Thai, nodded forward with my hands pressed into polite position, and smiled back. Seeing that, her face lit up. Beaming at me, she returned the gesture. It instantly put me in a better mood. So simple, nothing more than learning a proper hello in a foreign language.Yet it can be so powerful too.
Next time I write I promise to not be so serious. Anyway, I'll probably have gotten to see elephants by then, so who wouldn't be happy about that?
