Kanchanaburi, Thailand (April 4 - 6, 2006)

---

Written April 14, 2006 in Siem Reap, Cambodia

There’s something about a town that is built around a single event or attraction made famous by a movie. Tens of thousands of people every year head to a small Iowa town that boasts the famed “Field of Dreams.” Most probably don’t get to toss the ball around with Shoeless Joe so we wonder what they think of the town and the peripheral tourist-oriented businesses. Movies can do funny things to the places in which they are set, and from the various cinematic treatments of World War II we’d suspect those funny things are far wilder when history mingles with film and tourism.

Kanchanaburi, Thailand and the beautiful surrounding region are about a two hour bus ride west of Bangkok. For most westerners the name will be unfamiliar until they hear that the town is home to the Bridge on the River Kwai and is close to Hellfire Pass, both infamous features of the Thailand-Burma “Death” Railway constructed under the oppressive boot of Japanese authority during World War II. Japan subjugated much of Asia in the early years of the war and the construction of the Death Railway, linking supply lines overland as allies threatened Japan’s sea lanes, was deemed a necessity. The “fame” of the railway may be tied intimately to an Academy Award winning film, but the ruthlessness of the Japanese in constructing the railway through the use of Asian slave labor and allied POWs places it squarely among the most horrific events of the war in the Pacific.

The Kanchanaburi bus station is like many others we have seen, hectic, a little dusty, and surrounded by willing tuk tuk drivers eager to take you around or show you to the area’s attractions. Adjacent to the station is a good-sized market that seems to focus on providing local food for locals. Once you leave this more bustling interior the pace slows down considerably and you realize that despite the familiar but smaller trappings of Bangkok, Kanchanaburi is a more relaxing and slower paced town.

Kanchanaburi is very easy on travelers willing to forego the penny-pinching and seek a modest river guest house accommodation. The River Kwai, from which most of the tourism is generated, also provides a beautiful setting for guest houses, many of which stand on stilts or even float above the river. We stayed at Sam’s House for 600 baht per night (about $15 USD), including air conditioning. Sam’s is very well run, perfectly clean, and situated in the middle of thick growth on the bank of the river. Each room is private and unconnected from the others. Our room situated on rock below Sam’s restaurant while most others extended in to the river’s marsh, accessible by an elevated walkway.

After getting situated at Sam’s we set off to explore the area. We ate lunch at a bustling little place that featured stuffed snakehead fish grill (which at least one of us regrets having not tried). Following lunch we made our way through the heat to the humble but engrossing Death Railway Museum, the Thailand-Burma Railway Center. The museum, essentially the product of one man’s effort, walking the railway, collecting firsthand accounts, and reaching out to survivors, paints a detailed portrait of the railways many features. Exhibits include accounts of the construction of the railway’s 400+ kilometers of track, articles from the railway itself, and details about the roughly 60,000 POWs and 200,000 Asian slaves made to work in inhumane conditions under violent direction to complete the railway in 20 months.

The vast majority of POWs who died building the railway were Australian and British soldiers captured when the Japanese claimed Singapore. Like the other allied prisoners used as labor, these men were transported in from around the Japanese controlled territory and deployed along the route of the railway. Because the Japanese “samurai code” deemed surrender without noble suicide to make a man less than human, the POWs were treated accordingly. Most walked to their positions along the work route, often with decaying or no footwear to protect them from the rocky terrain. Red Cross packages were rarely if ever delivered, poor records were kept of those captured, deployed, and deceased, and treatment by Japanese guards was despicable. The strain of working 20 hour days in the hot and humid climate, extremely low calorie and nutrient-poor diet, inhumane treatment, and regular outbreaks of cholera and malaria translated to an enormous casualty rate. Almost half of the 200,000 nameless Asian abductees working on the railway and one third of the 60,000 POWs perished.

Directly across the street from the museum, in line of sight of the giant “Death Railway” museum banner, sits a beautiful cemetery holding many of the allied war dead whose remains were reclaimed from the camps along the railway. The cemetery is perfectly manicured and features identical tombstones low to the ground, each accompanied by small plants and flowers. There are also memorials to unknown soldiers, Indians, and Asian slaves who died on the railway. Much of the funding for the cemetery comes from the Australian government.

After dinner at Apple House, a well known guest house and cooking school, we retired for the night.

Our second day in Kanchanaburi began when we walked to the railway station to purchase tickets for a ride to Nam Tok on the Death Railway. After the war most of the track was sold to the Thai government. The British, fearing the use of the railway to assist ongoing unrest by Karen separatists in Burma, tore four kilometers of track near Three Pagoda’s pass, severing the line and any transcontinental use it may have had. Because much of the railway was deemed economically unfeasible the Thai have since torn up other stretches as well. The line through the countryside to Nam Tok maintains its viability thanks to the healthy tourist trade and the three trainloads of gawkers each day.

Upon arrival at the station we were asked whether we wanted the unreserved 100 baht ticket or the 300 baht reserved seats on the “special car”. We debated at length the merits of the “special car” and the price difference. We asked the man selling the tickets, who could certainly be trusted for objective advice, whether the unreserved seats were ever full (the train departs Bangkok before reaching Kanchanaburi). He said, simply, that the seats could be full thus luring us closer to the more pricey reserved seat. The clincher for some may have been the cold drink service or snack promised special car passengers, but for us it was the suitable for framing Certificate of Pride certifying that we had braved the wilds of Thailand to join zillions of passengers on the Death Railway. The certificate features the signatures of three local and national tourism officials and an impressive blue stamp denoting the official nature of the document. Did we fall for the 300 baht ticket or opt for the cheaper coach seat? Please stop by to visit us when we settle in our new home after the conclusion of the trip. Our two Certificates of Pride will hang prominently near the front door (no matter what Amy says).

The two hour train ride to Nam Tok was very pleasant. Our drinks were ice cold, the cookies that served as snack were very tasty, and we beamed over our certificates of pride. The route across Thailand’s central plains toward Myanmar (it will always be Burma, to us) was very attractive, alternately featuring views of the River Kwai and mostly agrarian land and villages. Despite the frequency of the tourist trains we were often greeted with cheerful waives as we passed field workers or children (two of whom were playing in the late morning heat in plastic Batman and Spider-Man masks). After disembarking in Nam Tok we took a songthaew four kilometers to the main road in an effort to catch a bus the remaining sixteen kilometers to the Hellfire Pass Memorial and museum. The road is lined on one side with small vendors and on the other by a small shelter and a pair of fruit vendors. The local songthaews park in the middle of the road. Other than that, there is barely a human structure visible and no indication of where one would catch a bus. Fortunately for us our songthaew driver, who was sitting under the shelter in the shade with his son awaiting business (which on this stretch of road did not seem likely), told us to wait and a bus would be along.

For most of our time in Thailand our bus travel has been limited to scheduled service routes. We have noticed, however, that unless you are on a first class bus the driver will stop periodically and at no obvious stop to pick up additional passengers. In our case this day we waited by the roadside until a bus came in to view, waived him down, and boarded. After picking us up, the driver zipped down the road honking whenever he approached a building or crossroads. This signal alerts potential passengers to be roadside promptly (there is no waiting). A fare collector roams the aisle collecting money, and in our case, warning us as our stop approached. For a route we believed had to be heavily traveled by tourists, the fare collector did not seem to know “Hellfire Pass” but somehow managed to get us off the bus at the right spot. Following the departure of the bus we were completely alone with no obvious museum or pathway in sight. We finally spotted a small sign pointing toward Hellfire Pass and found our way. We are convinced most visitors book Hellfire Pass as part of a larger, guided tour and do not try to reach it on their own.

The museum at Hellfire Pass is an ultra-modern, stark white, sterile outpost on the edge of a mountainside well off the main road and surrounded by farm land. You must remove your shoes upon entering and there is not all that much to see. The bulk of the staff is Thai, though blustering and friendly Australians clearly reside here and manage the museum. The museum is funded by both donations and the Australian government. The exhibits were largely similar to those at the Death Railway Museum in Kanchanaburi, though a greater emphasis was placed on the geography of the Hellfire Pass area and the toll taken on POW lives.

The memorial at Hellfire Pass is the pass itself. Thirty meters deep and just wide enough to accommodate a train, the pass represents some of the most difficult, dangerous, and evocative aspects of the entire railway. The prisoners worked with only the most primitive hand tools and dynamite and took twelve weeks to carve a suitable pathway through the rock. You are free to hike the pass and to follow the rail bed four kilometers to the end of the park. Much of the railway here is left as it was when it was abandoned. Walking the line, stumbling over jagged gravel in the intense heat, you certainly get a feel for the hardships men without enough food, water, clothing, medical care, or tools must have endured. Hellfire Pass received its name from the ghostly images cast upon the steep rock walls by fire and lantern as work continued at night. From what was the track bed you can look up at the scarred walls and almost imagine the grim images new workers must have seen as they were dragged to their station in the middle of the night.

We walked the rail line for about 45 minutes before making our way back to the museum. One of the Australian managers asked an employee to provide us a ride via golf cart to the main road (most welcome after the heat of the day). We found a small shelter by the roadside and waited for the bus we hoped to take two hours back to Kanchanaburi. While at the shelter we met a pair of travelers, an American and a Canadian, who were exploring Southeast Asia after teaching English in Japan. They were kind of dull, but it was reassuring to be roadside in the middle of the country and headed in the same direction as two other people. The American was a native of Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania and his hometown spawned about the only interesting conversation. Mechanicsburg, as most westerners - as most earthlings - know, is the hometown of the glam hair metal band Poison (ok, only Roger knew that). Ever been sitting by a rural roadside near Nam Tok, Thailand and pondering why you know where Poison is from?

From the bus station in Kanchanaburi we walked in search of a recommended restaurant, though we found nothing and ended up walking back to our neighborhood of guest houses. We ate at a small local restaurant and planned our next move, which as it turned out, meant heading back to Bangkok the next day. Kanchanaburi is a beautiful place and we can see getting lost there for a week if you were so inclined. There are a variety of outdoors experiences to be had and there is no shortage of museums, interpretive centers, and tourist shops capitalizing on the bridge and the railways. We decided a morning visit to the bridge itself, which we crossed on our ride on the Death Railway, would be our only other activity before leaving.

The Bridge on the River Kwai is probably another victim of larger than life film mythology. By any current standard the span of river it crosses is not enormous. The bridge is not very high, not very long, and certainly evokes little sense of awe. As a vital piece of the Japanese supply line we can understand why it would be so heartily targeted by allied forces during the war. Like so many actual events, however, the fiction has far outgrown the truth. The bridge was destroyed by a team of commandos and plucky POWs in the film, essentially dooming the line to failure. In reality the bridge was targeted on numerous bombing runs, knocked down a few times and rebuilt, and eventually felled by a direct hit by a bomber at a point in the war when it would not have done the Japanese much good anyway. Taking even a little more romance out of the picture is the fact that during periods when the bridge was unusable the Japanese employed barges to move supplies from one side to the other. Barge traffic would be slower and less efficient, to be sure, but not disabling without far more comprehensive efforts by the allied forces.

The morning we left we spent two hours looking at the bridge from every angle. The heat was severe and the crowds that gather to stare at the bridge are sizeable. The area immediately surrounding the bridge features a well manicured park, numerous vendors, a small rail platform for the addition of still more tourists in the 300 baht seats, and restaurants situated as to provide a mealtime view of the bridge from nearly every angle. Except for the moment the train crosses the bridge it is open for an up-close look and the bridge is crowded with people scampering and posing all over the black iron edifice. The impending arrival of the train does little to discourage the scampering and posing. It would appear that the concrete support structures that support the bridge are original (they match the vintage photos we saw and we could see what we were told at the Death Rail Museum were scars from strafing runs and bombings). While the bridge itself does not inspire a sense or awe it represents an enormous chapter in the war effort and in the region’s history and we are very glad to have seen and walked the bridge.

Kanchanaburi behind us we headed back towards Bangkok. Employing the same “stop where you want, pick up where you want” style of bus transport we hopped off of the bus in Nakhon Pathom. The town, which is 56 kilometers west of Bangkok, is probably Thailand’s oldest town (its name, in fact, is derived from the Pali for “first town.” - so says Rough Guide, anyway). Nakhon Pathom is thought to be the entry point into the region for Buddhism some two thousand years ago and today contains the country’s oldest chedi, Phra Pathom Chedi.

The chedi has been rebuilt twice since its creation, each time in keeping with the Buddhist tradition of retaining the original, sacred structure. Phra Pathom Chedi contains the remnants of the previous constructs within its massive grounds. The most recent version of the temple was constructed by King Rama IV in 1853. The current structure stands 120 meters high and is visible from virtually every corner of town. The chedi is reportedly the tallest stupa in the world. It has been covered in golden brown tiles and looks like a plunger, large, wide base tapered to an imposing tower. The grounds are tiered and within an imposing outer wall. The first tier is wide and feels like a plaza. There are a few statues and trees on this plaza and not much more. The second tier has a pair of museums, numerous prayers sites, and several ornate gardens. Despite the importance of the temple it was not terribly busy and we were able to enjoy some solitude and peace while walking around.

Before heading back to the street to put our thumbs out for the next bus we stopped at the vendors outside the temple. We tried a traditional rice dish prepared inside hollow green bamboo. The sticky rice and red bean becomes visible when the vendor splits the bamboo with a cleaver. We only had to wait a few minutes for a bus and safely returned to Bangkok that evening.

---

Photos

Men in Kanchanaburi
We assume they're working on the street lights but maybe the local custom is to eat lunch up high.

View from the Death Railway
Notice the woman on the right waving to the train

Roger and his Certificate of Pride
It's already at the frame shop

Walk Near Hellfire Pass
Railway used to go through here

Comments

[Eloy]

congrats
the certificate of pride is something you should be proud of and i can tell you are. So jealous. And your tan is looking savage Roger.