Pratida and me

Within thirty minutes of arriving at the Elephant Conservation Center (aka elephant camp) I was sitting atop an elephant. I was briefly introduced to Pratida, which means princess, and then told to get on. We were to spend the morning learning by doing and in the afternoon we would be given a list of the commands to learn. There are a few ways to mount an elephant. You ask the elephant to bend her leg so you can stand on her knee, grab on to her ear and a chunk of her rather callous skin, and throw your leg over her immense backside. I did this the first time, with the help of two maybe three mahouts pushing my backside up and over. In this moment I realized that there are times when I am glad that I don’t understand the Thai language.

Another even more humiliating way to approach an elephant is to ask her to kneel down on her two front legs. With a running start you jump up and straddle the patient beast, landing so that your face is down and your butt is up in the air. Once the elephant is in its full and upright position, you sit up and while balancing on the spine, swing your feet around and do a 180. I didn’t even attempt this feat as I don’t get much air when I jump. My brave friend Courtney, however, mastered this tactic by the end of the week. Quite beautifully actually; much to her dismay, there are pictures to prove it.

The way I preferred to mount was to ask Pratida to lie down on her side. This way I could easily swing my leg over her neck and hold on tight while she stood up. I wasn’t always positioned properly and more than once I thought I was going to fall off. Luckily that did not happen. We were pretty far from a hospital, and I don’t know if they even have a medivac over here.

Having mastered mounting, I was able to focus on “finding my seat.” At first I was very rigid and held on for dear life. Not that elephants move very fast, but when you are up that high and the elephant swings her head around to sniff the sugar cane in the air, it feels like you could easily topple off. With my knees tucked up behind her ears and squeezing my thighs together (you don’t need Suzanne Somers if you ride an elephant everyday), I was eventually able to let go and learn how to move with Pratida. To rock and sway with her movements, to lean back when we were going down a hill. Eventually, it got so that I wasn’t grasping at the sparse black hairs on her head to save me from a fall but sitting pretty with my hands resting on my knees.

Elephant Camp

Day One
8:30am Check in at information center
9:00am Training program at the show ground
9:45am Elephant bathing
Yeah, even though I had showered in the morning I got to take another bath. The bell rang and all the elephants piled up in the water. The mahout scrubbed her down and I helped by splashing water on her head. I was more or less immersed in the pond; I had to get over my dislike for non-chlorinated water really fast. Note: there is a group of paying tourists watching us on the bleachers. Hear the shutters clicking rapidly.
10:00am See the elephant show
Did you know that elephants paint? They are pretty good at it, too. For about $14 you can by a masterpiece which helps support the elephants. They also play the xylophone and ring bells. On a more practical note, though, they are an invaluable source of labor. We watched how the elephants move and stack logs, which is what they did before logging was outlawed a few years ago. My favorite part though was watching the elephants curtsy or bow when their names were called.
11:00am Check in at accommodations
Our rooms for the length of our stay resembled the inside of a snake charmer’s basket. It was indeed a basket—woven walls with a thatched roof arched above it to keep the rain off. There was electricity and an attached bathroom with running water. Three rooms were all right next to each other and a mahout lived full time in the one at the end. Down the steps and to the right, picnic tables were set up next to a small kitchen where a couple of Thai ladies made our meals. It was all very homey.
12:00pm Lunch time
1:00pm Elephant taxi rides
Different elephants gave taxi rides. We walked up a wooden stand and climbed into a carriage type thing fixed on the elephant’s back. There is a quite a bit of sway in these things and Courtney and I held on for dear life. I had heard about one of these carriages slipping off before which added to my fear.
2:00pm Training program at the show ground
This is when we practiced the commands and improved our mounting and dismounting techniques. The best way to dismount was to slide off the front.
3:00pm Take the elephant to the forest
Over the hills and through the jungle to the elephant’s habitat we go. The elephants are taken to the jungle at night so they can feed since they eat all the time and it is too expensive to feed them around the clock. Each night they are taken to a different place so they have more to eat. As the elephant was doing all the work climbing up the mountain with John and me on her backside, I was already thinking about the morning when I would be walking up the mountain on my own two feet. Riding like this also afforded John the opportunity to practice Thai massage on me. I thought only the women over here give massages; I was wrong. It also gave him the chance to, unbeknownst to me, make a monkey tail out of leaves and vines and tie it to the back of my shirt. Courtney told me about it later, after she took a picture.
6:00pm Cooking time
7:00pm Dinner
Of the rice variety. And fruit for dessert.
8:00pm Sleeping time
Before we went to bed, we played cards, drank Thai whiskey and beer, and sat around and visited with the other elephant camp participants. Ruut and San (a semi retired anesthesiologist and his wife) from Holland, Andrew and his two sons (Harry, 12 and Michael, 14 from England), and Rich and Katin (a San Fran computer guy and his Thai girlfriend who spoke very little English and spent most of the time talking to the people who worked at the camp). A couple of the mahouts ate and played cards with us, too, which was very entertaining.

Day Two
6:30am Go to the jungle to bring the elephant to the center
Daybreak, climbing a mountain. Need I say more? Pratida, my elephant, was very excited to see us in the morning. She was flapping her ears and rocking back and forth, her trunk all curled up. It was adorable. We also had to pass through a small body of water so this was the first bath of the day.
8:00am Breakfast
Western style. Fried eggs, toast, fresh pineapple. Tasty.
9:00am Training program at the show ground
9:45am Elephant bathing
Second bath of the day. By this time, we had learned the command which means to spray water. If you were able to grab the trunk, you could direct the spray wherever you wanted it to go. This was better than any dunking booth. I actually fell off when Pratida went all the way under the water. I guess I could have stayed on and gone under, too, but those cameras were close by and I don’t do the drowned-rat-look very well. Besides, I had seen a snake in the water a little earlier so I didn’t mind getting out.
10:00am See the elephant show
10:50am Visit the elephant hospital
Did you know that elephants get constipated? That would explain all the bottles of vegetable oil around the place. A couple elephants had injured their feet by stepping on land mines. I didn’t know that there are still land mines around. I’ll remember that next time I try to sneak off into a deserted field in the middle of the night.
12:00pm Lunch time
2:00pm Training program
3:00pm Take the elephants back to the forest
We took them even further into the jungle, further up the mountain. I had more or less decided that I would not be making the trek up the following morning. That decision was solidified when I fell, not once but twice, on the way down the mountain. The decision was for my safety and the safety of others (those people walking behind me when my knees gave out and I tumbled down the mountain taking everyone in my path with me). My mahout didn’t know much English, but he knew enough to call me “baby” as in neophyte. However, if I had climbed in the morning, I’m almost certain I would have lived up to my childhood “cry-baby” nickname. I had reached a level of exhaustion where tears were imminent.
6:00pm Cooking time
7:00pm Dinner
Some of the best stir fry chicken I’ve had since I’ve been here and fried chicken which was damn tasty. Some vegetables and then fruit for dessert.
8:00pm Sleeping time
More card playing, whiskey and beer. I don’t know much about cards but they were playing something like Jokers Wild and Spoons. Much laughter all around.

Day Three
6:30am Go to the jungle to bring the elephant to the center
I slept in and met the crew for the first bath of the day at the foot of the mountain.
8:00am Breakfast
9:00am Training program at the show
9:45am Elephant bathing
10:00am Join in the show with the elephants
As we paraded into the show ground riding on top of the elephants, they played this music that has Thai children singing in Thai about elephants. I almost lost it (children singing always makes me cry) but I quickly composed myself and smiled for the tourists who were viewing the show. Pratida was asked to raise the flag for the show.
11:00am Get certificate of completion and say goodbye to the elephant
It was a sad moment. Bye-bye Pratida and John. After we left camp, I looked at my pictures several times the rest of the week. I don’t think I ever want a dog, but I do think I could keep an elephant.

To have fun while working

In Thailand, the prevailing work ethic is to have fun while working which was definitely evident during elephant camp.

The mahouts are the elephants' masters. In the not-so-old days when elephants were used in the logging industry, mahout (pronounced ma-hoot) meant elephant driver. Now instead of driving the elephants, these men train them and (for the most part) just love them.

My mahout's nickname was John. He has worked with elephants since he was twenty years old, the last four years with Pratida and the first seven with her mother. All of 5'1" tall, John is thirty one years old and kind of reminded me of one of my 7th graders. He loved to laugh and to play. The mahouts in general were a playful bunch. They would sneak up on unsuspecting individuals and grab them, hide in the bushes and jump out at passerbys. While we were taking the elephants into the jungle one afternoon, one of the guys broke out a harmonica. Another one jammed along with a beat box using his water bottle on the elephant's backside. John was dancing behind me on the elephant's back. And another one whistled along. It was like a moving party.

At night we played cards with a couple of the mahouts. It was interesting playing cards with two Thai guys who speak very little English, a British boy of twelve, and a fifty year old Dutch lady. Somehow we figured out how to play and had one hell of a time. The most entertaining part was listening to John laugh. He has this crazy cackle that he employs often, which in turn made everyone else just break out laughing. All of this in a days work.

June Cleaver lives...in Thailand

Now, I don’t want you to think that I spend an inordinate amount of time over here sitting in my studio apartment overanalyzing male/female relations in Bangkok. It’s just that when you are constantly reminded of it—driving by the Champagne Room, massage parlors on every block, seeing a 70 year old man with his arm around a 25 year old Thai girl, reading personals for men seeking an Asian wife—it’s hard not to think about it.

I have pretty much decided that the men who come over here shopping for wives are men who want life in America to revert back to the 1950’s. When wives were more like June Cleaver and less like Hilary Clinton. “Can I get you a drink dear after your hard day’s work? Can I make something for you tonight besides pot roast, you left some on your plate the other night? Oh, I understand if you come home from work after midnight every day of the week including Saturdays; work must be hard for you.” I think the men who shop for wives in Asia are looking for that kind of life.

You might think I am exaggerating so here are a couple of personal ads posted on Craigslist by American men. Note: I couldn’t resist adding my commentary.

1
Hi. my name is Mario. I'm still trying to find the right girl for marriage. I need a woman who is dedicated and loving, with no drama or attitude (read: I don’t want a woman who will tell me that she needs more from me, that she wants me to share my feelings with her, that she doesn’t understand why I can’t be faithful to her). If interested, go a head and email me with a pic and some info about you.

Me, Hard working, loving, fun (im just a teddybear). My hobbies are BBQ's karake, motorcycle riding, disneyland... You wont be disappointed :) (read: I don’t ever want to grow up; btw—did he mean karate or karaoke?)

Looking for good Thai woman for friendship and perhaps marriage. Prefer 20 years to 30 years. Anywhere in Thailand. I'm a good and decent man who has spent alot of his life in southeast asia (particularly Thailand). Go ahead and respond, take a chance. Hope to hear from you ladies.

2
Hi, I am interested in finding a thai. girl that is pretty and petit.wants a long term re-lationship.I have traveled to thailand a few times and love the counrty and culture (read: submissive women because I know he isn’t talking about the pollution and lack of toilet paper). Maybe I can meet this girl when I get over there? To share each others cultures and to have a special romance (do I really need to interpret “special romance” for you?). If you are interested send a pic. and I will respond back Paul (What’s he trying to do with his bizarre usage of the period? Poetic license?)

3
27 year old male, 5’9 185lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes, average build. I can pretty much have fun doing anything. I’m want to find a woman that desires to come to the U.S. and would enjoy being married to an American (read: even living in an air-conditioned trailer in Jersey is better than making $2 a day in Thailand). I value family and friends; there's nothing better in life than spending time with the ones you love (especially when the ones you love jump at your every command because you are their life blood and their only relative half way across the world from their home). In particular I’m looking for a woman not originally from the U.S. I have been to Thailand before and fell absolutely in love with the country, it's culture, and it's people. If you can cook it's definitely a plus in my book (I’m wondering how many books this guy has in his house…)as I absolutely love Thai food. If you are looking to become a U.S. citizen and find the love of your life...I’m your man. I am looking for a beautiful Thai wife to spend my life with. Send a picture if you have one and I’ll send mine.

Notice the common denominators seem to be pretty, Thai, and willing to marry. Just like that. I can’t even shop for a pair of shoes that easily. There is not a line anywhere that says “must speak English.” I mention this because there are many men who are married to Thai girls who speaks very little English. How do couples like that communicate? Or maybe that is what the men want—the absence of communication. The absence of questions and demands. If the women can’t speak English, then they can’t ask anything of the man.

I’m assuming when men say "I love Thailand, the culture and it’s people," they mean they love that people always smile (even though they may not be happy), that all the women are about 100 pounds, and that the women really don’t ask for much in the way of what they want or need . American women, on the other hand, tend to want a guy with social skills, education, dependability, lack of addictions, a decent job that they have worked at for a while, a tolerable face and a respect for women’s independence and personal well-being. I also know a fair number of women who, in addition to all these difficult qualifications, would like a guy to be able to spell correctly and be able to write well. Comparatively, I guess that is asking a lot.

Now here is a smattering of what the Thai women are looking for.

1
My name is meaw 24 year old,I live in Nhongbualumphu north east of thailand.I hope to meet a good man for read my marry.If you you are a good man and honest you can write me at ma_meaw@#$%^&* .I am looking forward from you. Take care.

2
Hello, I'm Nattaya. I'm a nice lady looking for my prince. He doesn't need to be perfect but only he's nice and can take care of me. I'm sweet, loyal, helpful, easy going and sincere. I want to have someone to complete my life, taking care of each other forever. I'll treat him very well and we will build a happy family together.

3
Hello, I'm a nice lady from Thailand. I'm sweet, easy going, sincere, loyal and friendly. I like to smile. I know how to treat a man. I'm serious to find someone to complete my life. I prefer to live simple and cozy. Much differece in age is not a problem for me. If you're a nice man, please write to me.

Notice the simplicity in the ladies' personals. All the women want is a husband that is Western (although that is not stated, it is implicit; Thai men generally don't use this site) and makes some money. It doesn’t really matter what else they are like. Get me out of my daddy’s house, keep a roof over my head, and feed me. It helps if you are honest and want children. Sounds very much like the women who went to college to find husbands back in the day. My favorite ad, though, had a last line which read “I am still learning english, so my friend helped me write this” (read: you won’t be able to talk to me until our firstborn is three years old but I can still clean your house, cook your meals, and keep your bed warm).

Now don’t think I am criticizing the women here. I know they have it hard. A third of the population in Thailand lives on less than two dollars a day; a sixth of the population lives on half that. I can understand that when people are that desperate, when the poverty is that severe, people will do whatever they can to escape it. Prostitution is the oldest profession for women (I believe teaching comes next; what does that say?) and it’s still going strong. I’m not really writing about the women selling themselves for money...but that’s what the women in these ads are doing, isn’t it? They are essentially saying, “I will sacrifice my family and my home country to live with a man who will support me (and more often than not, my family, too). And that’s not saying anything about the thousands of women (and lady boys) who sell themselves daily at the bars, massage parlors, dance clubs, and the streets of Bangkok. The flesh trade accounts for 2% of the GDP in Thailand. A whole lot of women are out there working, praying (literally praying before they go on-stage wearing only shaving cream) for a farang to pick them up and carry them away from the life of poverty.

No, what disturbs me is the men who come over here in droves searching for their little lotus flower. I know more than one woman in the States who is looking for a husband (some more actively than others--cha cha cha) and here are all these men coming to Asia to find a wife. And we thought they were scared of commitment. No, it seems more like they are scared of commitment with a woman who is strong willed, independent, educated, and earns her own money.

I know I am making sweeping generalizations and apologize to the men who are not this way (including Scott Becker, Matt Kite, Al Kalaskas, Nick and Daniel, Cris and Jose, John Lucier, David Pickett and KC Woller). I, myself, have found my fair share of men in Bangkok who enjoy the company of a woman who is educated, outspoken and weighs more than a bag of golf clubs. But it sure as hell isn’t the majority.

A complaint...or two

The honeymoon is over. I am now entering whatever
stage comes after that; the part where I
become cognizant all the annoying little things about Bangkok that I was too busy to notice when I was trying to figure out how to get on the bus or how to decipher the laundry detergent from the fabric softener at the Big C. They say this stage, too, will pass. I hope so because I don't want to be one of those foreigners who is always complaining. But for now, it is part of the acclimation process. So, here goes...

There are no dryers over here. Notice I did not write, "a dryer is hard to find"; they are non-existent. Hang everything to dry--sheets, towels, all of it--all over your apartment so it looks like tent city.

Toilet paper at many public places is located outside of the stall, if it is there at all. Sometimes you have to pay for it. Other times, it just isn't there.

In lieu of a Western (read normal) toilet, there are often squatters. Yup, try that in heels and a pair of dress slacks with hose on. I'm sorry, my knees just don't work that well.

There are no paper towels and napkins are the consistency of toilet tissue (the cheap toilet tissue).

There are mangy, stray dogs everywhere, which means there are piles of stray dog poop everywhere, too. I'm surprised I have not stepped in it yet.

You cannot buy alcohol at the grocery store between the hours of 3pm and 6pm. I've been told the rationale behind this, but since it made no sense to me, I chose not to remember it.

When you eat at a restaurant, the waiter hands you the menu and then stands there and waits for you to order. After you order, the food and drinks come in no particular order. You very often get your food before your drink. Plates are not cleared away when you are finished and you always have to ask for the check.

Drinks are often served in a small plastic bag with handles (as opposed to a cup). Of course, it does come with a straw.

The pollution is terrible. When I have spent a lot of time outside in the city, I feel like I am a shade or two darker just from the smog that has settled on my skin. I'm waiting for someone to come up to me and write "wash me" on my forehead.

I can't touch the monks. It's not that I want to rub all over them, but when you tell me I can't do something, it just makes me want to do it all the more. What would happen anyway...?

There is a 400% markup on wine.

Something always smells. Bus fumes, smoke from a make-shift grill cooking various types of meat, stagnant canal water, sewers, fish frying, over ripe fruit...(I think I was particularly sensitive to this last week with my stomach out of wack).

Wet trash must always be separated from dry trash. I didn't know trash was so picky about what else it shares a can with.

These people don't know what cheese is.

Apparently, the Thai men have never seen breasts before. They stare at my chest (only my chest) with utter fascination. I think they really believe I am hiding torpedoes under my shirt, and I will let them loose at any minute. Run! Duck for cover!

Going to the doctor...

Well, it only took me two months to get one of the food-born illnesses commonly associated with third world countries. I don't know if it was the chicken curry I ate in Chinatown or the Kingfish Carpaccio I had at my favorite Italian restaurant--either way the onslaught of tummy trouble, fever, achiness, and headaches started Monday evening. I felt terrible all day at work on Tuesday (I was just waiting for one of the kids to realize why I kept leaving the classroom and then announce it to the class) and after having a fever again that night, I called in sick for Wednesday.

I went to the hospital up the street, Thai Nakarin Hospital. I was a bit nervous because I (still) do not speak much Thai and I was worried they might misconstrue my malady (say, perhaps, think I was pregnant and going into premature labor, have me in stirrups before I could blink an eye). Turns out I had nothing to fear. I asked at information about seeing a doctor; the very nice English-speaking receptionist led me over to registration, where I filled out a minimal amount of paperwork, before she guided me over to have my vitals taken. Did you know that blood pressure cuffs come in different sizes? Thai size did not work for me. Go figure. This was slightly humiliating because the little Thai nurse had to reach down into a drawer and pull out a special box that contained an extra-large-not-very-often-used blood pressure cuff (the tears didn't come until after I was seated and waiting for the doctor; it's funny how vulnerable you are when you are sick). Then I got to climb onto the dreaded scale. Note: the good thing about kilograms is that it doesn't sound as horrendous as pounds.

During the ten minutes I waited for the doctor, I dried my eyes and then noticed the nurses. I was surprised at their 1940's uniforms--white, fitted, knee-length shirtdresses, those funny little hats, and heels. Where were the pajama-looking scrubs and thick soled nurse's shoes? I must say, the feminist in me was appalled but the aesthetic in me was quite pleased. That whole doctor nurse thing began to make some sense...

I was only in with the doctor for five minutes. He spoke English and knew exactly what I had, asked me what I had eaten. I was then sent out to the cashier and pharmacy, where I was given six different medications (I had heard they are kind of pill-happy over here). There was an antibiotic, Immodium, Tylenol 500, an anti-nausea med, another one for stomach pain, and some powder to restore electrolytes. All of these were placed in a nifty little gift bag with handles. The gift bag seemed so quaint and out of place in a hospital. The grand total for all of this--doctor's visit included--was a whopping $16. Not that I had to pay anything; my insurance covered it.

But it gets better. I decided to go ahead to the dentist office since I was out and about on my sick day off. I loaded up on my meds and hailed a taxi. I went to a dental hospital downtown which was a pretty impressive, ultra modern building with lots of glass. Apparently you don't need appointments at these places. I walked in and again had a minimal wait. (The dental assistants and female dentists dressed more or less the same as the nurses, heels and dresses, but without the hats.) Since it was my first visit, I had x-rays done first and then had a cleaning. I was very surprised to learn that I did not have any cavities since I usually have two or three. I do not have dental insurance so I had to pay full price for everything which came to $75. Not bad. If I'd had a cavity, it would have only cost me $27. Those of you who have a small fortune sitting in your mouths can appreciate the moderate pricing.

So, all this cheap cheap cheap stuff gets me wondering; how much does the average Thai person make per month. After doing a little research and talking to some locals, it sounds like $270 per month is standard, sometimes more but more often less. Yep, I said per month. Wow. Geeze. Holy crap. I make seven times that as a teacher. This might explain why I actually had money left over last month, something that NEVER happened in the states.

I took eighty five pictures Saturday...

An aerial view of a temple
I love all this ornamentation
A view of Bangkok from the top of the Golden Mount
Two cool cats from Michigan--Josh and Monica; aren't they a beautiful couple?
You can never have enough of Buddha