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Not Afraid of the Fall

Page 23

by Kyle James


  Ash told me to get out of the way and just let her go to work because I “packed like an asshole.” Fair enough—I’ll accept the insult for the lack of work I had to do. I hit the steam room, and when I returned, she had packed every single item into our two bags. Wow, I really do pack like an asshole, I thought.

  We tried to get some sleep, but the excitement level of what we were doing tomorrow was far too high. Tomorrow we were going to spend the night at the Elephant Nature Park (ENP), deep in the jungles of Thailand. This was unequivocally the aspect of the trip I was most excited for.

  9/7/15

  Chiang Mai, Thailand → Elephant Nature Park, Thailand

  We did a final sweep of Richard’s house before heading out to find a taxi. The city was certainly different during the week. The road was packed with people rushing to work or getting their children to school. We hailed a red truck taxi and climbed in the back with a Buddhist monk. He smiled at us. Riding in rush-hour traffic with a Buddhist monk—just another day in Thailand.

  The truck dropped us off at the office of ENP, where we walked in to join other people heading into the jungle and boarded a van. It was early in the morning, so there was very little small talk, and everyone fell asleep as we drove an hour and a half north toward Myanmar. The busy roads and buildings were quickly replaced by jungles and small villages.

  This was the part of Thailand I wanted to experience: Chiang Mai and Bangkok were cool cities, but there was nothing like this in the US. As the road became bumpier and the jungle became denser, elephants began to appear. Seeing the massive animals walking around freely in the jungle was surreal. Our driver explained that there was a string of elephant parks out here; some were kind to the animals, but most were not.

  We arrived at the park and followed the guide to a wooden platform that stood ten feet in the air and was the home base of the camp. We took seats at a picnic table underneath. Our driver/counselor gave us an overview of the home base. Along the main hallway there was water, a coffee shop, a gift shop, and bathrooms. There was also a small canteen where beer, drinks, and snacks were available. This place was basically a grown-up elephant summer camp. I couldn’t be happier.

  The driver told us we would begin the “experience” soon, and he set off to handle some loose ends. As we chatted with some German people from our van, a big beautiful elephant searching for food walked right up to the railing ten feet away from us. This was why the platform was elevated: to feed the elephants from above. Our guide came back with a bucket of watermelon. He showed us how to gently place the pieces where the lady elephant could grab them out of our hands.

  I noticed a man below the platform rubbing the elephant’s side casually as the elephant chewed on some grass. He was neither worried nor excited to be around an animal of this size and beauty. Our guide explained that he was the elephant’s mahout.

  A mahout was the person who stayed with the elephants almost twenty-four hours a day. The only breaks being six hours while they slept. Each of the thirty-one elephants had the same mahout from the time they got to ENP until one or the other passed away. They were life partners.

  I immediately wanted to be a mahout, and my mind raced on how I could make this a possibility. I lacked about 90 percent of the qualifications; being a male was my only promising quality.

  It was our turn to feed the elephants, and we walked cautiously up to the area of the platform where they were waiting. As soon as I reached into the bucket, the elephant knew what was coming next and reached her trunk right up to me, sniffed out the melon, and grabbed it by pinning it between her thumb-like nub and the rest of her trunk. Once she had a firm grip, she pulled it to her mouth with a brisk swoop. We fed her ten watermelons and didn’t skip a beat.

  Next up on our itinerary was to explore the area where the elephants could roam freely. I glanced around and could see herds of elephants all over the park. We started our elephant-networking event with the two oldest gals. The two females were eighty and seventy-seven years old. It looked like most mahouts were very cautious when people were around their elephants, but these two just sat together under a tree, chatting. These old women were of no worry to anyone. Elephants acted very similar to humans with respect to age, and these grandmothers were too old to be up to no good.

  We approached them and felt their soft, thick leathery skin, which was covered in little hard bristles every few inches. When we left the two grandmas, our guide let us know those two were the only exception to the ENP golden rule that this was their world and we were just living in it. If an elephant approached us, we could let them check us out and then touch them gently. We were not to approach them. The babies were also tricky because they got spooked quickly. We were not to interact with the babies because, while they might have seemed like they were having fun, one yelp and the herd would come running. It wouldn’t matter who or what was in their way.

  The next group we met on our tour was three large elephants that had bonded over common injuries. One had stepped on a land mine in Myanmar and had a mangled leg, another had a broken leg from a trap, and the third had a broken back from people riding her. I loved that they could sense another elephant in pain and bond over their commonalities. These animals were emotionally superior beings.

  After a large buffet-style lunch, we walked out to the river that formed an outer barrier to the park. As we walked and talked, a few elephants passed us on either side. It wasn’t every day you were part of an elephant herd walking to the river.

  We walked up to an elephant in the water and were instructed to bathe her. I had no problems being on the ground with the large animals, but it was bit unnerving to be waist deep next to one. But it was far too epic to pass up, so I led the way in and earned the trust of the elephant by walking to where she could see me. I rubbed her face and trunk.

  I scooped up a bucket full of the brown water and launched it onto her dirt-covered back. She did a little shimmy—similar to anyone who’d had water thrown on him or her. They reminded me more and more of humans every minute.

  Our guide pointed to a scene up the river that was out of National Geographic. Three elephants rolled around and dunked one another like summer friends at a public pool. When they were ready for their next meal, the three elephants charged right out of the water, and we all made a path for them to stroll up to the fields between us.

  We wrapped up the afternoon by hanging out in a group as one of the elephant herds meandered around us before heading home to the platform to call it a day. This is when we met Apple, our overnight guide/tour guide for tomorrow. She was a local Thai girl who’d grown up with elephants for as long as she could remember. She really wanted to be a mahout, but girls were not allowed to be mahouts in the Thai culture. This was the closest she could get, and she was fine with that. Apple walked us down the path from the platform and showed us to our huts for the night.

  Our hut was perched off the ground like a beach house and had a bathroom that was essentially an outdoor shower with a toilet attached. The beds were thankfully covered with mosquito nets. The one-room bungalow had a great porch overlooking the compound where the elephants slept at night so wild animals couldn’t bother them. There were still wild tigers that roamed Thailand. Although scarce, they were out there.

  Then we discovered we had a serious problem. We could not find our passports. Apple asked us to get them out, as they had to document everyone who spent the night here, and we assumed they were in our bags, but when we got to the hut, they were nowhere to be found. This was pretty much the worst-case traveler scenario, aside from, you know, dying. We didn’t have time to handle it now; we had to be at the welcoming ceremony.

  There was a top floor above the base of the platform where the ceremony took place. We sat on pillows in the front row, listening intently as the director of the camp explained the Thai ritual that a local Buddhist shaman would perform on us tonight. He would round up all the bad luck and energy in us and put it in a box to send down the ri
ver. He explained that we would then be sprayed with holy water and given a white cloth bracelet for good luck. He said that the actual ritual would only be performed on four people because of time, but the rest would participate and be given bracelets. He pointed to two girls in the front row and then looked around and called up Ash and me. We were shocked. There were probably one hundred people here. We sat crisscross applesauce on pillows, and the shaman entered the room and began the ceremony.

  The old man recited Buddhist chants and prayers in Thai as we sat with our eyes closed. His voice was powerful beyond measure. I felt like I could understand the language. Not the words, obviously, but the feeling. I became lost in his words, and my mind cleared. He grabbed my hand first and rubbed off all the bad luck. This was going to take him a while. Then he proceeded to sprinkle holy water from a golden cup. The experience lasted half an hour, and when he was finished, he tied a white string bracelet on my right wrist and smiled at me. The girls received them on their left wrists. This culture is very gender conscious, I thought.

  Ash and I agreed that after sixteen years each in churches, this was easily the most powerful religious feeling we had every felt. The shaman’s assistants were all little old women in their seventies and eighties and nicer than anyone should be at that age. We thanked them over and over. The shaman didn’t speak any English, but continued to wai and smile, our hands in his. We walked downstairs eventually, still in awe, and I have to admit: I could feel all my bad luck floating down the river to be eaten by fish. Ash checked her phone at the platform, and Richard had e-mailed us: I found your passports! They were in the driveway; they must have fallen out of your bags.

  I am not going to say this had anything to do with the ritual we just went through, but I am also not going to say it didn’t. We capped off the night by drinking beers with our new German friends, who were brothers, chatting about the differences between growing up in Germany and growing up in the US. Turns out we have more similarities than we’d imagined. Today was one of the best days of our entire trip—and our lives, for that matter. Elephant trunks and Buddhist shamans had truly moved us.

  9/8/15

  Elephant Nature Park, Thailand → Chiang Mai, Thailand

  We were packing our gear at 6:30 a.m. when we heard the elephants being extremely vocal with their mahouts. They were clearly ready to get moving on their eighteen hours of eating. We sat on our back porch and soaked in the sound of roaring elephants. I had a hunch we weren’t going to wake up to this sound again for a very long time.

  The German brothers were already at the breakfast table when we arrived. We grabbed plates of stir-fried rice with eggs, toast, and fruit. When we wrapped up breakfast, Apple came by to take us on our private walk with the elephants. The weeklong volunteers were all doing the chores for the park, and the daily visitors wouldn’t arrive until around 11:00 a.m. We had the park to ourselves.

  We started down to the river and began looping the park and stopping where herds were hanging out. Apple told us the stories of the first three elephants we passed, and unfortunately, none of them were good. The first female broke her back from being used as a riding elephant. I felt awful because, although I had never ridden an elephant, I’d always wanted to. I had no idea it was just a tourist trap and hurt them.

  The second elephant had a digestion problem. She could not keep weight on because food went right through her. The third elephant in this group had both of her back legs broken. They were bow shaped, and she walked with a serious limp. She’d had a case of forced breeding, and her weak body could not handle the weight of the large male that had mounted her. I felt bad for these poor girls, but at the same time, they were the lucky ones. This was happening all over Southeast Asia, and most elephants remained in these awful conditions until they were either sold or they died.

  Our group moved on to the next herd along the river that was rolling deep. There were five big girls and a baby. The baby was up to no good, running around and driving everyone crazy. His mahout was steering him in the right direction with the help of his mother when all of a sudden we heard a crack of a whip and then a blood-curdling elephant roar. It made the hair on my body stand up. The baby started crying immediately, and all the elephants looked across the river and started roaring back.

  “What was that?” we asked Apple.

  She explained to us that there were riding camps on the other side of the river, and there the elephants were beaten if they didn’t obey. “It breaks my heart,” she said, “but there is nothing we can do. They own the elephants and can do what they want.”

  I really wish they would stampede those sick sons of bitches. How on earth could you whip any animal, let alone an animal as peaceful and majestic as these creatures?

  We got back to the platform for lunch just as a batch of daily visitors and overnight guests were arriving. They were getting their orientation on the platform, and I spotted our guide from yesterday prepping the buckets of watermelon with his new group. They were all wide-eyed and giddy with excitement. We shook hands, and he asked if I would show his group how to feed the eighty-year-old gal. Step aside, rookies, I thought as I walked up, rubbed the elephant’s forehead, and gave her watermelon. Ash looked at me and rolled her eyes, and then we hit a noodle station for lunch.

  I built a mountain of food I knew I couldn’t finish, but it was hard to be around other mammals that ate their body weight in food every day and not do the same. After lunch, Apple thanked us for coming to her home at the ENP and hugged all of us before we departed.

  Spending two days at the Elephant Nature Park was an eye-opening and rich experience I would recommend to anyone who visits this part of the world. We didn’t just learn about elephants here; we learned about the Thai culture, Buddhism, and how humans can still make a difference. These elephants came from carnivals, abusive owners, riding camps, and other places where they were left to die. Here they roamed freely and got eighteen hours of meals a day in peace—a vast improvement. Tonight we would be going to sleep better humans than we had been before we got here.

  When we returned to Chiang Mai, we went back to the jazz bar. Our day had started with the trumpeting of elephants and ended with a saxophone solo.

  9/9/15

  Chiang Mai, Thailand

  It was another early morning for me, as I had to meet Richard at the ol’ mansion to get our passports. He would only be in town at 8:00 a.m., so I didn’t have much negotiation power. I just wished I hadn’t drunk six Changs last night.

  On my walk home, it began pouring and didn’t let up for hours. This was the best case for working on my book. I wouldn’t feel guilty about not sightseeing. I wrote and sipped cool drinks for hours as Ash got a massage and shopped. We called it an early night to get good sleep before our 6:00 a.m. flight tomorrow morning.

  It was hard to believe we were leaving. When we’d returned from the ENP yesterday, it felt like we were coming home from summer camp. This was our first true love in Thailand, and when people ask what was our favorite place, this hipster mecca filled with kind people and jazz stars may come spilling out of my mouth before I have a chance to think about it. Your gut is usually right anyway, isn’t it? We used the rest of the day’s budget to get one more massage and then headed home for good. We hopscotched roaches and did the limbo under bars of bats. It wasn’t out of fear; it was just the Chiang Mai Shuffle.

  9/10/15

  Chiang Mai, Thailand → Railay Beach, Thailand

  We quietly snuck out of the Airbnb in search of a taxi in the deserted streets. There wasn’t a single vehicle in the road. It was 4:30 a.m. on a Thursday. We had not thought this part through. We were screwed. I mean, even the roaches and bats were sleeping at this point.

  We decided that our only option was to start walking in the direction of the busiest street, which was obviously one of the four roads that made up the square. We reached the east border and saw a single light speeding down the other side of the road across the median. I told Ash I
was going after it, then ran with my backpack across the road, flagging the car down just in case it was a taxi. It was, and the driver saw me and stopped in the middle of the road. We didn’t see another car of any type the entire way to the airport. You would have thought we had good luck or something.

  I have never been through a quicker airline process. We went from the taxi to our airline gate in three minutes. There was only one 6:00 a.m. flight leaving Chiang Mai.

  We boarded the AirAsia aircraft and took our seats in the suspect plane. This flight was fifty dollars for a reason. I was prepared for this plane to go down. After listening to the safety instructions, I determined that the oxygen masks weren’t going to help us when we hit the earth at three hundred miles per hour. Time to catch up on some sleep.

  When the plane landed and we stepped off the stairs and onto the runway, I couldn’t believe how chilly it was. The sky was gray and filled with rain, and it was only sixty-eight degrees outside. We stepped inside the terminal to wait on our trusty bags.

  REI needs no endorsement from some amateur traveler, but if there was one thing we had that had saved us on this trip, it was our backpacks. My blue Crestrail 70 pack was part of me at this point. REI is the king of backpacks, and mine was worth its cost five times over.

  This is where the trip to Railay Beach got tricky. Railay Beach was unreachable by road, so we had to find a bus that would take us to the port where the boats waited. We had found taxi and transfer services online for twenty dollars total, and knew this was a tourist trap. Sure enough, there was a bus outside for three dollars.

 

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