Well kanchanaburi has proven to provide an interesting introduction to the city. In the most safe decision possible, I decided to wander off down the road by my hostel, to, you know, see what’s going on down there. Maybe some dangerous stuff I can run across by myself! Yipee! So I’m wandering, wandering, aimlessly, and slowly in the heat and go by a white wall leading to a gourgeous Vietnamese Buddhist Temple. Absolutely gorgeous, I can see it from my raft bungalow, so I go to investigate. I’m walking, thinking it’s odd that it’s completely deserted, but that’s not unusual, that means walk further by yourself. So, I do and go to the temple–forgetting, mind you, that I should have shirt sleeves and not this harlotsville tanktop I’m wearing, and take off my shoes to go into the temple. I look downstairs and then go up to the main area, do a prayer and offering and then go to leave. The monk that was there starts talking to me–again, I’m wearing a fucking tank top– and we’re talking, talking, good times and then I go to leave and he says, wait a minute. Just wait here, that man followed you. “Don’t look at him,” he says. So there’s this shifty guy that was getting ready to leave when I was, so I hang out with the monks some more and he explains that’s the reason that he was talking to me–as, you know, it’s not really proper for monks to talk to women– and then he tells me wait until he comes up the stairs and then you can start down. He did this before with another woman. “He’s not a criminal” the monks says, but we have to look out for you. Meanwhile, an elder monk is also providing a distraction for the dude. The man comes up the stairs again and I get the go ahead from both monks to leave and I bow and go about my way, very briskly with a pit in my stomach. You’re gut was right, dearest, that probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. On the most basic level, I should have had a more modest top on, which I’m embarassed about, as I was talking to a monk, but eerily deserted areas with no women generally don’t scream “Hey, you, single lone woman! Come over here! Totally normal for you to be here!” Anyway, my feeling that monks were a comforting presence was affirmed by this incident. As soon as I got to the Bangkok airport and saw a monk walking around, a flood of relief instantly flooded over me. Every time I see one, I get a little sparkle of happiness and after this incident, I feel like they’re that much more of an important presence. Thank you to them, I only wish on top of the offering, I had been more appropriately dressed. So, I’m still adjusting to being here, realizing that I’m still paying too much for everything, but I’ll eventually get the hang of it and am still feeling a certain anxiety about doing anything at night or away from my hostel as I’m travelling by myself. I know that this won’t completely pass, but I think getting a feel for things will at least allow me to leave my hostel at night.

As if offending monks wasn’t excitement enough, after waking up in my raft bungalow on the river (I walk out to see the river going by under my porch, rad) today I rented a bicycle in order to spice up life a bit. While, of course, I didn’t feel entirely safe, people in Thailand are used to having bikes on the road so they do things like yield, check before they open their doors, and act like you’re actually a part of the traffic flow, not some obstruction in the road (Ahem, Seattle). Anyway, I rode the bike out to the Bridge on the River Kwai, featured in the David Lean movie.

As Meg pointed out recently, most aptly in discussing the rip tide off the Costa Rican coast, when visiting less affluent countries, safety isn’t as much of a priority. Or, rather, liability isn’t really an issue, so barriers, hand rails and what not that keeps clumsy dumbasses from falling are foregone. The main focus in a high volume of bodies, whether these end up dismembered or dead is not really a problem, as long as they paid their fare. People come to Thailand, they want to see things they saw in the movie, they want to do things, so it’s provided for them, but it’s up to them to stay safe. It’s like we’re being made to grow up! We are our own liability?

So, the bridge is literally rail road tracks with about a foot of space to walk on that is shared by traffic coming from both directions. To the sides are some flimsy boards to balance on as people pass, but  no hand rails, just a drop off into the surely pristine River Kwai. If this situation were not already precarious enough, a train actually still runs on the tracks. Somehow, apparently, people found a way to step aside as a train cross the tracks with people on the bridge. What? some people want to take a train across the bridge and some people want to walk, why compromise when you can have both.

I soon left on my bike and roamed the outskirts. some kids yelled “Hello!” from the side of the road and waved and I waved back. I was nearly attacked by a rabid dog, but all in all it was pleasant to cruise around the area. I came back into town and finally got a delicious Thai meal in the non-tourist district. Yum, broth soup and nice people. Less than a dollar and I’m full and happy. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad eating spicy soup in 98 degree weather.

After i left the stand, I sat a drank a soda water at another store front and read some Thai pet magazine. This further highlighted how interesting cultural exchange is. We eat shitty thai food, Thai people (as per Bangkok example) eat Pizza Hut. So, in the magazine there is a show dog named The Rainman “Raymond.” Yes, apparently Dustin Hoffman’s portrayal of an autistic adult on a road trip was a desirable name and persona for a shitzu. I don’t know. But, also, there is a “Chicken soup for the pet lover’s soul” brand dog food. incredible.

It’s 3:30 and i’ve been riding all day long in the 95+ degree heat, so I’m tired. Got to take a break and rest up for some good times tonight. A shower will be a welcome mid day activity.