A dress Rehearsal For Survivor

August 18, 2001-Birthday From Hell
(photos-Birthday Boy & me
Mong woman & me
Rafting on the River Wang)

Today was David’s birthday. David wanted to celebrate it on an elephant trek. It started out peacefully enough.

We were picked up at 8:30 A.M. Our van then picked up eight other passengers and we headed for an hour drive to elephant country. After narrowly missing several dogs, pigs, and chickens crowding the road, the driver did his best to kill anyone on a motor scooter, a few children, and us. When we got to our destination our guide picked up where the driver left off in attempting to do away with us and make this David’s last and most memorable birthday yet.

Riding the Beasts

The elephants we rode were of the Asian persuasion, which means they had small ears. That was the only small thing about them. Before we knew what was happening, we were herded onto a rickety bamboo platform and unceremoniously shoved onto a wooden seat that was chained and tied by fraying rope to the top of a beast. We did notice that there was no safety rail holding us into the seat. We felt sorry for all the gear the elephant had to wear, but later, as we slithered up and down muddy slopes, we grew quite fond of the tack that secured us to the elephant and kept us out of the mud, river, dung, and the path of the other elephants that followed. Our mahout was very tiny and perched on the head of the animal as if he was sitting on an easy chair. As we left the safety of the bamboo platform for parts unknown, he lit up a cigar and smoke wafted back in our faces. We grew to love the smoke since it kept bugs away and were disappointed when he handed it off to the ten year old on the neighboring elephant. Between the smell of cigar smoke and the flatulent elephant in front of us, it was quite an odoriferous journey. One of the elephants was about five months pregnant. I figured if she could make it I could too. These mommas carry from 18-22 months. After an hour-long trek, we arrived at another bamboo platform. This one looked rather appealing after our tusches and legs had bumped around. We dismounted and skittered down a wobbly bamboo ladder to the ground. Have you noticed that everything is rickety and bamboo? It was a theme.

We were almost at a Mhong (also Miao) village. We still had a half-hour long climb uphill. The heat and muddy incline increased as we lurched to the top. Tall grass wrapped around our ankles and threatened to trip us. Sun glare mixed with sweat pouring into our eyes. Some of you may know that I’m in my element when climbing. I was loving it. David thought he would die there.

The village was almost deserted, Most work in the fields or in town, but the stay-at-homes were there to sell us their goods. We stepped gingerly over remnants of food, tripped on tethered pigs, and dodged poultry as we avoided the ever-present animal waste. Miniscule villagers barely reached my waist but were giants in the art of the deal when selling their colorful handcrafts. We toured a “model hut” that had the usual conveniences: dirt floor, bamboo walls, cooking and sleeping facilities, and an area for smoking opium.

We were told that the tribe had been Buddhist and animist, but missionaries converted them to Christianity by giving the children pens and paper. The paper didn’t include the toilet paper variety. I’m surprised I hadn’t detected the public toilet by stench alone. Never one to pass up a potty stop, I ventured over to the listing tin shack and peered into the hole in the ground. It was to squat or not. I made sure that David took a picture and then I went for it. It was so gross that David wouldn’t use it. My philosophy is don’t look, just do it.

On the way down Noi, the guide, also know as Noisy, pointed out a plant whose leaves produced soap bubbles when you broke the stems and blew on them. Just as we neared the end of our downhill march, we saw that the river we’d crossed riding elephants now had to be crossed on foot by way of a suspension bridge made of, you guessed it, bamboo.

Onward

Our next stop was for a surprisingly good lunch. We had fried rice and pad Thai with fruit for dessert. One of the tourists from Poland (now living in Germany) noticed that our napkins were toilet paper piled in a napkin holder. She thought it ironic that they used toilet paper for napkins and had no toilet paper in the toilets. She spoke English very well. Tourists have to in order to function since Thai people speak their dialect and English. We noticed that houses around the little café had satellite T.V. and remembered that our guide told us he had a computer and was teaching his sons English by using a language program.

After lunch we headed for a village of Karen tribe people. They were also not at home, but we got to play with some piglets and walk around in their garbage. I know I sound patronizing, but that’s what it was like.

On to the next adventure! We were off to “shower under a waterfall.” Some ended up falling under the water as the rocks were treacherously slippery. This day was made for me! I climbed on rocks, splashed in the water, and threw my arms out as the falls bathed me in a refreshing mist. It was ruggedly challenging but beautiful. The walk back to the van was once again tough going with an added twist. We had to jump over a small gully onto wet red clay soil. Obviously there’s no liability here.

It Ain’t the Mississippi

The only “event” remaining was the raft ride. The rafts were made of (what else) bamboo lashed together. They were twelve feet long and two tuschies wide. We sat on a bamboo cross-plank and were literally in the water as it seeped between the slats. A man poled us along the recently flooded river. It was peaceful as we careened around bends and rocks and ducked under tree branches. I don’t think any of the rapids were over a 2+ class.
At the roughest part of the river the guides made us get out and took the rafts through by themselves. We’d have been safer in the rafts. We had to climb over jagged edges of boulders as we clambered our way to the rendezvous point.

We came back to town at 6 P.M. and stayed in our wet clothes for dinner. We need new clothes to travel in tomorrow when we go to Viet Nam, so there was no sense in changing. We ate in the night market and looked at jade they told us had been smuggled in from Burma. They make no bones about it. We hopped over the cracked sidewalks and holes in the sewer covers and made it to the hotel.

For those of you who’ve traveled with us before, I want to reassure you that I do have a larder going. I’m never sure if the next meal will be edible, so I want to be ready. We left home with rice cakes and I’ve since picked up a Japanese snack and chocolates from a flight. Not to worry.

We made it through the day proudly representing the “older” generation. Our guide called us “Mamma and Poppa.” David only fell twice and has a sore ankle, but he’s a trooper. The one regret is he didn’t celebrate his birthday the Mhong way with his many wives, his best dog for dinner, and an opium pipe.

Toby