A weekend to relax at last...

On our anniversary island!

A free weekend at last! After quite a crazy month of weekends, it's time to regroup for the last 5 weeks of school. Last weekend was our 1st anniversary, temporary passport application in Bangkok and the rest of the weekend in Kanchanaburi. As it was the queen's birthday, Monday was a public holiday and Sunday was Thai mothers' day. Kanchanburi was beautiful. A perfect combination of history and natural beauty with accommodation in bamboo chalets floating on the river and the friendliest people we have yet to meet in Thailand.

The original railway track

The Memorial cemetry

Amanda looking beautiful with her shandy!

In the cave!!!

Monks on the Kwai river bridge.

Arrived on the Friday after a 3 hour train ride from Bangkok and settled in, drinking G&T's with fresh limes from the market. Spent the next day wondering around the Burma-Thailand Railway Center and the tragic WWII Cemetery across the road. Watched some monks nearly get hit by a train on the bridge from "Bridge Over the River Kwai" fame and took a long tail boat along the Kwai river to an underground temple filled with stalactites, crystals and some very old looking Bhudda statues. The next day saw us clinging to a songthauw (a converted bakkie with seats and a roof) in the rain to get to Hell Fire Pass, a very moving section of the Thailand-Burma Railway that cuts through some immense jungle and deep into granite rock. From there, we hopped onto a train and traveled back to Kanchanaburi along some of the original railway that the Japanese were so intent on building. That night saw us eating dinner at the Jolly Frog before sampling the local brews and getting nailed by a rather gruesome stomach bug. Back to Chaiyaphum on the Monday to recover and regroup before another 4 day week.

It's crazy to think that we are now in the home straight and how quickly the abnormal or bizarre can become routine. Although, there are still a few things that take us by surprise. On Thursday, P. Teet, the lovely teacher who took us to her rice farm, had her mother's cremation. Pete and I arrived late after finishing class to tents full of people all seated around an open air dais that was linked directly to a crematorium. The stairs leading up to the dais were swathed in black and white cloth and covered with ginormous flower arrangements. On the dais was the apple green, gold gilded coffin surrounded by more flowers on a trolley. As we arrived, the funeral guests were filing up the stairs. They passed the coffin, tapping it twice with some twirly white paper, before descending again to receive their souvenirs. Yup, that's right. Souvenirs!! What possibly could you get as a souvenir at a funeral, you might ask? Well, what about a glazed ceramic coffee cup and cereal bowl painted artistically with a red, green or black chicken...of course! And let's not forget the sticker of the poor deceased woman's name and date stuck to the side. 

Kassie & Pete in front of the crematorium

While we paid our respects and made our way down, we were suddenly struck by what looked like orange Quality Street toffees. Ducking out of the next handful flung from the dais we managed to see that they were 1 baht coins wrapped in cellophane. The mad scramble for these by the guests (old and young) did not really allow us to see one up close, except to know they hurt like hell when they hit you on the head!

Next was some waiting around while a devastated P. Teet and her family surrounded the coffin. The flowers were stripped from the dais and flung in a heap on some grass around the corner. A bucket of empty water bottles from the guests was flung on top before the whole pile was covered in gasoline and set alight with fire crackers. We left soon after this, but not before we were invited home for mountain loads of food. At least that was familiar. When in grief: EAT!

A macabre, albeit fascinating cultural experience as an outsider, but still a tragic loss for a friend. Our thoughts go out to this wonderful lady who has been so welcoming to us foreigners.