Early the next morning we started out for Kanchanaburi, the area of the well known Bridge on the River Kwai and the infamous POW camps. We visited the JEATH museum... (Japanese, English, American/Australian, Thai, Holland). I think the name Death Museum was just too grim sounding for vacationers, hence the odd change of the name. The museum was in the form of a prisoner hut... which by local standards was quite nice, really. Of course it isn't easy to depict the harsh, crowded conditions, and deprivation the prisoners suffered. Only photographs and artifacts remain.

Then we saw The Bridge on the River Kwai...HEY! what's this? It is a steel trestle; not a bamboo bridge! Well, since "The Bridge on the River Kwai" was a novel, only based on fact... I don't know why I had any expectation that the bridge should be different. Oh, well. The Thais have restored a large portion of the railway; but not the portion that goes into Burma. Since they have longstanding problems with Burma, they don't want to provide easy access into Thailand.



We also took a train ride on a WWII steam train along the river over trestles and tracks laid by the prisoners. It was rather an uneasy feeling to be taking a recreational ride over a railroad that so many men died to build.   I understand that there are Japanese visitors to these sites... but they are of another generation, and the whole thing is just a matter of history now.

We arrived at the Botanic Gardens Hotel and our river raft rooms. These rooms were like those the Thai people live in.



No furniture, just two mattresses made up on the floor. No chairs, no tables, no nothing. The floor was beautiful wide wood planks with cracks between so you could peek at the river flowing under the room. The air conditioning was very questionable; and what little cool air it did generate immediately slipped through the cracks... literally. And remember the bathroom I told you about in Bangkok... all glass, mirrors, and fresh orchids? Well, here is our bathroom on the raft. Travel is an adventure, right?



After checking out our room and turning on the air conditioner... we went on a raft ride and ate flowers. The flowers, fried in a batter, were delicious, and the lazy float along the river was pleasant.

I know I promised not to mention this again... so let me spare you a thousand words...



This afternoon it was into the pool! Thank goodness for a cool respite. This evening the heat was starting to get to me, so I excused myself from dinner early and went to my raft. I sat on our little porch and watched lightning play in the clouds and swatted lemon-scented bugs.

The next morning, after a delicious breakfast of eggs and fried butterflies... we went to Hellfire Pass.   Oh, come on, now... they weren't REAL butterflies!   The pass was interesting as was the museum... but this was certainly a sad time in history. The pass got its name from the erie scene of prisoners working thought the night by torch light.



We had a visitor on the bus this day. Early in the morning a little squirrel came on board and spent the day with us. It ate a banana.... and the rest of the day it slept in the bus boy's shirt pocket; and that probably isn't all it did in the bus boy's pocket. It was adorable and we enjoyed its company for the day. There was some speculation of what our bus boy had for supper that evening, though, as we never saw the squirrel again.

We went for a boat ride on the river the following day... it was nice and cool! We saw a waterfall where King Rama 5 bathed; it is now a national park. I don't know if that is because the king bathed there or not... but nothing would surprise me.

While we were enjoying the river ride and the passing scene... we discovered, on our return to the bus, that our driver and bus boy had brought a couple huge stalks of bananas on board. We then traveled to a very poor looking monestary... where they dragged out the bananas and here came masses of monkeys from the temple! They grabbed bananas from the stalks or from outstretched hands... and darted away to gobble them down; they also argued and snapped at each other acting like wild animals.



As we drove away, a monk was carrying away one of the large stalks that was set away from the one the monkeys were attacking... and was therefore almost untouched.   Some people on the bus commented how nice that he was going to feed the monkeys on the other side of the monestary... yeah, right!



We learned that by religious law, the monks cannot cook... or produce anything whatsoever... not even food. Every thing they have is offered to them by the people. They are forbidden to beg... they may just take what ever is offered. Each morning about seven, they leave the monestary with their alms bowls and walk through the streets or along the road for about an hour. People put into their bowls cooked food and any other offering. Everything they receive is taken back to the monestary and shared communally. The Thais, no matter how poor, make offerings to their holy men.

The monks, in turn, serve the community in a variety of ways. The temple is usually located on the village outskirts, a walled compound enclosing a cluster of steeply sloping, multi-roofed buildings.

Although the temple's prime function is to aid aspirants in their search for Nirvana, it has traditionally served as the village hotel, a village news, an employment and information agency, a school, hospital, a dispensary and community centre, and a recreation centre. It is also a place of safe deposit and refuge for the mentally disturbed and the aged.

In large towns, the temple offers hostel accommodation for students from the outlying villages. In others, orphans and children from poor families are admitted for free board, lodging and basic education and, occasionally, juvenile delinquents are sent to live in monasteries to be reformed under the benevolent influence of elderly monks. Gypsy does her research.



Back on the road we came to a happy group who were carrying a newly ordained monk on their shoulders as part of their ceremony. He was dressed in white and gold robes and his feet could not touch the ground until the following day when the ceremony concluded with his receiving his saffron robe. The group was on their way to an all night celebration.

Nu stopped the bus so we could join the party if we wished. I got out and hustled across the road to take a picture, but the people insisted we join in the party and dance with them. So I did. And some guy was offering people something in a plastic cup... and he was so happy that I couldn't refuse a sip... wow... it turned out to be rice whiskey! No wonder he was happy. Only two of our group were brave enough to drink the unknown... but what the hell; you know Gypsy! As the party passed by and I got back on the bus, I got a good picture from the bus window! So much for photography gone awry!



Back to our raft and thoughts of the pool. I was so hot and sticky by now that I didn't think I could get into my bathing suit... so Cuz helped. Have you ever tried to stuff a "Poppin' Fresh Roll" back into the can? But we finally manage to get Gypsy stuffed into her suit and we went to play in the pool for two hours and chatted with some others of our group.

Another lovely dinner at our open air restaurant on a promontory high over the River Kwai, and another night on our raft... with drift wood going, "BONG!" on our pontoons all night.