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| Bridge Over The River Kwai? |
I'm here for a few days with my mother, of all people. She flew in from Toronto to meet up with me here before we head back to my hometown of Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken in Japan. Here in Thailand, I don't make such a big deal about living in Japan. I'm just a Canadian.
A Canadian who has managed to score big time with two different Thai locales who are treating me very well. Internationalization is great! Oh, and just so you know, I'm only sleeping with these women one at a time every day.
So... why is today so awesome? Well, today we are going to visit the infamous or famous (I guess it depends on your point of view) Bridge Over The River Kwai. You know they made a movie of a true story.
My mother and I leave our hotel early in the morning. No air-conditioned splendor in a personal car... this time we are sharing a ride in a white van with 10 other people... but it's okay, as we then transfer into a large touring coach bus.
We travel for 2-1/2 hours north until we are about 150 kilometers south of Burma (now known as Myanmar). Arriving at the obligatory tourist area, I'm surprised because it's not that touristy.
Next we see a POW (prisoner-of-war) internment camp but there are no huts remaining, but there is a museum of a sort there. That's all there is. The museum contains numerous paintings and drawings by the survivors and a ton of photos and news clippings. The newspaper articles are all turning brown and brittle with age. They won't last much longer.
It's a very sobering experience. The Japanese were pretty cruel to their enemies. I won't get into that, but I would suggest you check out an interesting blog I wrote about a Japanese footsoldier during the war: AA-TEN-SHUN.
I purchase some neat coins: a large 1 yen coin from 1942 (they are so tiny and crappy looking now); a Thai Rama V coin that is 100 years old; and a Chinese coin---always the collector I am.
There's a small display showing an exploded shell... and while I look at it, a Chinese Malay gent comes over to talk with me. I tried to hide where I was living, but he weaseled it out of me. Not surprisingly he told me: "We hate the Japanese for what they did."
I stupidly asked: "But the war was nearly 50 years ago. Why not forgive and forget."
The old Malay man replied, "Because it doesn't feel like 50 years for us who re-live it every day."
I could only say I am sorry and smile.
He said it was okay, at least I was here learning and willing to listen to an old man.
Before I could start crying in front of him, I extended my right and and with my left hand I gave him a hug and somehow managed to wipe away a few tears with my left arm. When I pulled away, the old man was crying too. I'm telling you... it was a great day. Hey.... I still love Japan. I won't crucify a nation of people because of the actions of its government. Granted many of those self-same people gladly participated in atrocities (as do people in every war), but I won't condemn the whole country.
I feel bad for that old Malay man... not only because of what he went through, but because he can't let go of the hate... I understand how it is affecting him everyday... and that is what teh history books don't teach you about war history.
Then we head for the bridge itself. There were actually two bridges, one made of wood first and then one made of steel. Both were made by the POWs.
During WWII, the Japanese used Allied POWs to build a railway from Thailand to Burma in an effort to supply teh Japanese army without needing to send supplies by sea. During the construction, many POWs died from the horrible jungle conditions and starvation and the overall cruelty of the Japanese army. As such, the railway line became known as the 'Death Railway'. One of the most difficult things for the POWs to have built, was the bridge over the Kwae Yai river just north of Kanchanburi.
The wooden bridge was completed in February 1943 and bombed by the Allies to stop the supply chain. The steel bridge is still there. The curved steel bridge spans are original, and were brought from Java by the Japanese, while the two straight-sided spans came from Japan and were installed after the war to replace spans destroyed by allied bombing in 1945.
Here's something you don't know, I bet. The bridge over the River Kwai doesn't actually cross the Kwae (proper spelling) River.
Pierre Boulle, who wrote the original book, had never been to the place, and only knew that the 'Death Railway' ran parallel to the River Kwae for many miles, and incorrectly assumed that it was the Kwae which it crossed just North of Kanchanaburi.
The bridge actually crosses the Mae Khlung.
So after the movie and thousands of tourists wanted to see the famous bridge over the River Kwai, Thailand was in a bit of a quandary. So they renamed the river! Since 1960, the Mae Khlung has been known as the Kwae Yai ('Big Kwae') north of the confluence with the Kwae Noi ('Little Kwae'), including the bit under the infamous/famous bridge.
With my mom, I walk slowly across the bridge, wondering who died so I could stand here. The bridge is infested by Japanese. I don't think I see any Japanese here. I certainly don't hear any. And why would they be here? There are too many reminders that they actually started a war and were cruel bastards.
I hope, as I walk the rails balanced precariously, that the train won't come as I am 1/2 way across. I should have known it would stop and wait before crossing... it proceeds at maybe 10 miles an hour and honks its horn constantly to have the stupid tourists (like myself) out of the way.
After the train passes, I start whistling the Colonel Bogey March very loudly. No one joins me. Why isn't everyone whistling the damn song?
My mom buys a lot of tee-shirts and I buy one too and then wonder how it will go over in Japan?
We don't get on the train here. Instead we take a bus up to the next stop. This place is also crawling with tourists.
We get on the last car of the train. There are no seats, but my mom is at the doorway. Me? I'm hanging out the back door. I have an arm locked around a door handle and have one foot on a step onto the train. The rest of me is hanging outside the train - snapping pictures at 40 miles an hour with the wind and rain blowing in my face. It is so cooooool!
All is well until I am smacked by a few thorny bushes, but still the danger rush is exhilarating!
Finally arriving at the end of the line at Nam Tok, we look around a bit before getting into a small truck and heading to an even smaller village to have lunch. I'm guessing that this town is a lot richer than it lets on. I stupidly order a coke with ice cubes. I was warned not to have ice of any kind in my drinks, as it could come from a local water source... hepatitis and/or dysentery. More to come on that.
While I'm playing with a myna bird (she looked a lot older), I almost get left behind in the town... which really wouldn't have been too bad... except no one here looked like they wanted to sleep with me. But back in Bangkok... the city more than lived up to its name.
We take a motor skip down the river - it's interesting to look at the red clay like sides... it's very wet and rain... and the whole place looks just like I would have imagined Vietnam to look like. All I can thin is: What sort of idiots would want to start a war here?!"
We then take a bus back home with a brief stop over at a fruit market where I have some very interesting things I have never eaten before and have never even seen again--and that's with me scouring the Internet for this blog!
Okay... that's it for now. We'll continue the rest of the evening and night in tomorrow's blog. I'm splitting it up into two blogs because really, this entry deserves its own separate entry.
Somewhere whistling,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is the Mitch Miller version over scenes from the movie. I chose it because the whistling is clearer. My apologies to the purists. WHISTLE
