Angry Elephants

On Wednesday morning we took off on our trek with a rather random group of people. There was an Australian couple, two very white girls from England, and an older Japanese couple. For once, I was the darkest person in the group. Our guides were San and Pakwa, an actual tribesman who walks around in a Mr. Magic hat.

They herded us like cattle into the back of a pick-up lined with benches and off we went to the national park police office and a market. We drove a long time and wondered when the walking would begin on our trek. They took us to an elephant camp to ride the elephants. Gregg was quite excited about this and we hopped on the back of an old elephant because we thought the young handler looked like a cool guy. Well, I was wrong. Gregg says he wanted the dude in the Nirvana t-shirt. We went down a hill into the jungle and were having an awesome time when the elephant blew his nose on us. The other elephants put their trunks under their bodies to blow them, but not ours. I think he hated us. I had green chunks of cornstalk all over. But it got worse. He started digging in the red earth and then repeatedly blew funky mud all over us. We were ready for the ride to be over quite quickly. Then the handler took him to have more water so we got hosed again. At the end of the ride, we opted not to buy bananas to feed him.

After a lunch of fried rice, we started walking through the beautiful jungle. Bamboo, all kinds of trees, grass, rivers, and mountains. It was hard to keep our eyes on the path. Gregg and I walked close to Pakwa and he kept showing us cool things with leaves. He showed us how to blow bubbles with the leaf of a rubber tree, how to make a popping sound with another, and other cool things. After a few hours in the fierce heat, we stopped at a waterfall and played for a while. We kept a steady pace with Pakwa, while San kept up the rear with the Japanese, continually admonishing, "slowly, slowly." Then we'd take a "break break."

All the time we were walking, I kept thinking: there'll probably be a road next to the tribal village and we could have drove there just as easily. There was a road of sorts. The village itself consists of lots of huts with leaf roofs scattered throughout a hilly area. We marched past a Catholic church, and children playing to the back side of the village and the hut where we would sleep. The people are known as the white Karen because unmarried girls have to wear white dresses. We actually didn't get to interact with many of them which I suppose is just as well for them. I did make friends with one woman by helping her do some hoeing in the heavy red earth. Our guides cooked us curry, cabbage and rice with lychee for dessert. We ate by candlelight. Later, San told us some stories of the Karen people, including an unnecessary monologue on birth control. He also entertained us with stories about Thailand's infamous lady-boys, with sporadic jabs at Pakwa, telling us he's a ladyboy. Pakwa kept replying in broken English, "I'm a man!". He was pretty worried about it and kept declaring his manhood even after San had left. He showed us stick games and told us jokes that weren't very funny. We looked up at an unfamiliar night sky with our favorite constellations turned upside down and went to bed in the hut - but not before hearing the gecko say "gecko" and not before an ugly chicken pecked at Gregg's foot.

In the morning, I wanted to make friends with the kids. But then they started shooing the dogs and chickens away from the table. Soon the toddler had a big stick and was beating a dog with it. I decided I didn't want to play with him afterall.

More walking, walking . . . tons of barren rice patties because this is the dry season. The rivers are low and we could cross them all easily. We stopped at an awesome waterfall where the water shoots over an overhang. We would stand under the overhang and be amazed at God's creation. Gregg saw his first banana tree, pineapple plant, lemon tree, lychee tree, mango tree, jackfruit tree, lemon grass . . . Pakwa the liar pointed out an opium field to us. Turns out it was only lilies. (Gregg had believed him the day before when he told us he'd been to Canada.) Seriously, his uncle does have an opium farm and one time Pakwa took a bunch of opium, "mistaking" it for some kind of vegetable. Then more walking, lunch, and herded into the back of a truck to be taken rafting. At lunch, we ran into another trekking group. Gregg and I weren't totally delighted with our companions but were quite thankful for them after seeing our alternatives. The other group consisted of creepy Chinese men with hairs growing out of their moles and fat obnoxious middle-aged hippie women with their guts hanging out as they smoked and drank beer.

The bamboo rafts are made of about 8 long poles strapped together. Gregg and I were paired with our new Japanese friends - a martial arts teacher and a company president. They sat in the middle, Gregg had a pole at the back, I sat in front, and a child laborer steered the raft. The water was definitely way too low and our precious river guide - a kid no more than 13 and 100 lbs - struggled to keep us going. He'd hop off and reef on the raft just to get it over the rocks. I tried to help, but my sandal came off. Towards the end, Gregg and I swapped positions because he had a headache. We had already been passed by a couple of groups and the trip was getting a little long. We'd go through rapids okay but then WHAM! we'd get stuck on a rock. At one sudden stoppage, the seat that the Japanese were sitting on fell apart. But the scenery was gorgeous - huts along the river, elephants grazing lazily, and happy-go-lucky Thai people splashing us with water as we went past.

We were herded back into the truck one final time and taken back to Chiang Mai where we are trying to decide what to do tomorrow.