And on the other side of Paradise...

During a crisis period of my life almost 17 years ago I stumbled across this quote:

Be prepared

To risk everything you hold dear

For the truth within you.

For to speak the truth

Is to face the fear of death;

And on the other side of Hell lies... Paradise.

Yesterday I was reminded of the reverse:  On the other side of Paradise lies... Hell.

We left Koh Samet with only a sketch of a destination.  Chiangmai was no longer an option. The air quality had reached crisis proportions;  burning forests and farmland created an air pollution index that has reached the red zone (according to the World Health Organization).   Residents were encouraged to stay indoors; respiratory ailments were up 40% higher than normal.  We placed calls to the local Chiangmai health department and a hospital and were told (in no uncertain terms) NOT to visit.  A local paper reported:


                        In Europe and the US, the air pollution in an urban area is considered “serious” 
                        if PM-10 levels reach 50 micrograms per cubic meter. On Tuesday, PM-10 dust 
                        particle levels hit 181.4 in Chiang Mai, 243.7 in Chiang Rai and 236.1 in rural 
                        Phayao district.  

Bangkok was out of the question for all the previously described reasons, but about 40 miles north is the ancient capital of Ayutthaya, where there were purportedly ruins similar to Angor Wat along with excellent museums.  So, GPS in Amira's competent hand (it had, after all, gotten us this far in Thailand), we set out from southeastern Thailand for the approximately 3-4 hour drive (or so we thought) to Ayutthaya (pictured below in a Google image).

You will recall the insanity of Thai traffic.  Conditions only worsened.  Our destination on GPS was the address for the lodging we had paid reservations for.  Following the final GPS instruction to our destination, seven long hours later, we found ourselves on a narrow, completely rural road that not only had crater-sized potholes but huge pieces of construction materials idly stacked along the narrow shoulder, jutting into our "lane" (there were, of course, no road indications whatsoever).  The only signs of human habitation we had seen for miles were ramshackle hovels, a random child in a dirt yard, and the ever-ubiquitous stray dogs.  (Well, that, and the occasional sudden oncoming auto barreling down the road, swerving toward us to avoid potholes on their side, as well as the random bicycle or motorbike, their dusty, weary riders mere blurs as they passed us on the wrong side of the car or drove head-on toward us on the shoulder.) 


When we reached the precise place where the lodging was supposed to be, we found exactly...nothing. It was a trip to oblivion, as Mark so aptly put it. This was an area of rural Thailand so remote, so impoverished, so desolate that at one point the only creature on the road (besides us) was a crocodile scurrying (insofar as they appear able to do so) across.

Bear in mind, we had already been following very complicated directions for over 7 hours on a series of similarly chaotic roads.  By the end of those 7 hours we were exhausted, frustrated, and completely confused. Plus, it was a moonless night with no visible lights.  


So there we were: no idea where we were or how to get where we wanted to go.  Ayutthaya may as well have been another planet.  The only thing we knew to do was turn around, which, after our Close Encounter with a Crocodile, we determined to do, making the first left we saw.


Life is what happens while you're making other plans, as John Lennon so famously said.


The "road" on our left took us 50 ft. over a deep, swamp-filled ditch on a dirt path just barely wide enough for the car.  We inched along until, with a bump and a crunch, we realized we had ploughed right into a house. 


I am not making this up.


We braked, panicked.  Instantly the surprised and disgruntled Thai husband came out of the house, his shocked and dismayed wife following.  


We have "hello, goodbye, thank you, how are you, and how much" down pat in Thai, but how do you say, in Thai, "I am so sorry we just drove into your house tonight, knocking down the antenna mast supporting the overhanging roof of your shed, in the middle of what is no doubt your dinner?" 


The Thai couple, however, were so much more on top of things.  Gesticulating wildly and declaiming incoherently (at least to us) the husband indicated that he would guide Mark in backing up the car while the wife indicated we couldn't leave because we had crashed their antenna. In the meantime their bare-chested, twenties-something son came out and gestured that Mark should get out of the car so that he could back it up for him over the swamp-filled ditch.  


However, it was not in park or neutral when Mark got out.  This was a rental car and these were trying times:  it was in reverse.  Amira, in the front seat, and I, in the back, panicked as the car proceeded to back up toward the swamp-filled ditch... with no driver.  Fortunately it was doing so slowly enough that Mark reached in and quickly placed it in park (thereby avoiding a Jessica Savitch-like end to his family) at which time I got out of the car, tearfully trying to apologize to the wife. 


Their son then got in the driver's seat as Mark and I stood helplessly by, watching him back up the car to just before the main "road" (I use the term advisedly), along with all our possessions and, oh, that's right, our number one daughter over the swamp-filled ditch (hmm, wasn't that where the crocodile had emerged from?).  


To our relief, rather than making the break with the cute chick, the young fellow stopped just before the "road" and got out.  Mark then got back in the driver's seat as I continued to babble my tearful and clearly incoherent apologies to the couple.  I was beside myself with panic and remorse at that point.


The wife suddenly turned to face me, took me by my shoulders, stared into my eyes intently, and, speaking incomprehensible Thai softly the entire time, hugged me tightly.


All I could say, over and over, was kop kun ka, thank you. Thank you.


We had no words in Thai for we are so incredibly sorry.  Not to mention, we have no idea where we are or where we are going.


We could only hope the 1,000 baht Mark gave them covered the cost of the damage to their house and antenna.


All hostilities diffused, the family waved warmly as we resumed our travels.


The car back on the road, we retraced our steps and, miraculously, ended up on an identifiable road.  The GPS seemed to reorient itself, and within just over an hour we had checked in at the Novotel Impact, a brand-new Japanese owned hotel more modern and hi-tech than any we have ever seen, complete with a remote-control opaque screen that descends over the glass wall separating the bathroom from the sleeping area.

Within just over an hour we had left what seemed like the equivalent of 19th-century existence (apart from the television antenna) and were in what appeared to be the 22nd century.  "Thaime" travel at its craziest. 


Well, we have a new plan.  We're turning in the rental car (scratched and dented from a motorbike on the side panel and with a bumper that will probably need to be replaced, along with who knows how many other yet-to-be-identified car parts) and from here on we're only hiring transportation - enough of this National Lampoon Thai vacation. 


And as long as we can get to the airport without incident I will never ever complain about a single thing for the rest of my life.

Fit to be Thai-ed: Aphorisms for a Terrifying Trip

GPS stands for Gullible Positioning System

When the going gets tough, the tough get off the road

I brake for crocodiles

Only plough into the house of someone who speaks your language

Hell is only worth the experience once you leave

New tourism motto:  THAILAND - FACE THE TERROR

Ka-Ching, Ko Chang!

I am not a fan of small planes ever since we flew in one around Mt. Denali (also known as Mt. McKinley) in Alaska when Nat was two.  He had just finished a bottle when we had the bright idea of an air tour of the highest mountain peak on the North American continent.  In our defense, it was our first small plane tour of a peak so high it creates its own weather conditions (much like Mt. Rainier), but I will leave to your imagination the domino effect of Nat's tossing his (milk and) cookies.  It was sheer terror, and total gastrointestinal torture, mitigated only by our immense relief of actually surviving the experience.


Agreeing to take a small plane to Koh Chang from Bangkok was one of my more courageous moments, but little did I know it would end up being one of the easiest and most pleasant experiences flying imaginable.  Sure, it was a propeller plane, but I had flown across the Atlantic Ocean as a child to Morocco and Naples so clearly a propeller plane was up to the task of a 40-minute flight.

We immediately knew we were in for an exceptional experience as soon as we were advised to stop in the Bangkok Air lounge before departure, where a virtual banquet of beverages and snacks was offered free for our delectation.  The 40-minute flight itself was pretty spectacular, since for about half of that time we were low enough to the ground to get a sense of the topography.

We ascended above cloud level just briefly enough to be stunned at the beauty of the sunset, where Koh Chang is just barely visible in the center of the photo,

and, remarkably, on that 40-minute flight we were served an elegant dinner.  It was clear as we descended that we were approaching the Thailand we had always imagined - the verdant, undeveloped, and pristine island of Koh Chang.

The crowning glory of the flight was our arrival at what is surely the most charming, amenable, and beautiful airport on the planet - the Trat Airport, 

where a sapphire blue sky emerged from the storm clouds at sunset.

It was beautifully landscaped, and included fragrant gardens and elephant topiary everywhere.

We were efficiently whisked away as dusk descended and within 25 minutes arrived at our destination for the next two days, the Amari Emerald Cove Resort (we did not choose it solely because it is an anagram of Amira, just for the record) where in the morning we discovered an infinity-edge pool larger than any we have ever seen which was blessed by a Buddha embodying divine relaxation and peace.

It didn't matter in the least that there was a monsoon downpour that morning; the thoughtfully supplied bright orange umbrellas made even the rain a cheerful delight (as Amira in Amari here suggests),

and besides, within minutes, the showers had cleared and it was sunshine all the way.  We lolled about in the pool,

and despite the intimidating warning on the beach, 

we had nary a grievous moment with any coral, and a positively divine time floating on our backs in the ocean, as warm and soothing as I imagine a womb is.  Which was followed by an equally divine return to the pool, where blessings overflowed the infinity edge.

Our souls and bodies purified and renewed, we were ready for an encounter with the elephants we had traveled over 7,500 miles to see. 

Elephantasy

About a year and a half ago the sweet Gig Harbor massage therapist, Ashley Bowen, who gave me my first Thai massage, told me about the elephant sanctuaries in Thailand, where you could not only visit, learn to take care of, and ride the elephants, but you could also swim with them.  That prospect was the one consolation for me in Amira's plan to go to Thailand; Koh Samet was one of the many locations offering elephant sanctuaries. 

Ban Changtai Elephants' Camp, pictured below, was thus the fulfillment of that dream. 

Nonetheless, for the first ten minutes there all I did was weep.  This was much to Amira's exasperation (she later said to me, "You're like a planet of emotion - you could knock the rest of the galaxies out of alignment.")  We laughed, but, really, sometimes I even overwhelm myself.

And I was totally overwhelmed at being in the presence of these monumental creatures.  There were only two or three elephants waiting in the stalls when Amira and I first arrived (Mark had briefly dashed off for one of his innumerable currency exchanges).  A mahout was standing near the elephant Amira and I were going to ride, holding the elephant prod with its sharp point at his side.  We learned our elephant's name was Sarrapurn and that she was 32-years old.  Her daughter, Ana, was 13 and was to be Mark's conveyor.  The two of them had been rescued from a farm where they had been mistreated and were now happily sequestered on beautiful Koh Chang, with only the gentle task of bearing riders up into the verdant hills and down into the balmy rivers.

It is only now that I have words for my tears; they were in part tears of awe at the elephants' beautiful, benign enormity.  But there was also a sadness that they were not free, not part of their original herd.  It was a consolation knowing that at least the mother and daughter were together, and yet they were still captives.  I was also filled with tears of gratitude for them, for their willingness to oblige our wishes; for their docility and grace despite their conditions.  

And I was also afraid.  I am not intrepid where physical risk is concerned.  I immediately imagined all the ways disaster might occur; the sight of cheerful, intact returnees on other elephants was not enough reassurance.

Mounting the elephants for the mahouts was as easy as stepping on their trunks and shimmying up their heads.  To my relief all we had to do was climb stairs up to a platform that was level with the elephants' backs and seat ourselves in the fairly secure-looking chair held in place by single ropes.  I worried, of course, about the strain on the elephants from these ropes, as well as worried about how secure they were, but it was a quick adjustment to being in the chair, Amira and I balancing each other out.

Mark, on the other hand, was solidly positioned in the middle of his seat, and seemed ready to roll (hopefully not off).

And off we went, up into the hills,

surrounded by a cacophony of unidentifiable jungle sounds, 

and traversing a path that occasionally appeared nearly impassable owing to either steep inclines and descents on a boulder-strewn path (which Sarrapurn traversed with the grace of a plodding ballerina), or precarious, narrow ledges at other points.  Before long we could simply rock comfortably from side to side as Sarrapurn proceeded with consummate stolid assurance on our two-hour trek. 

Mark had clearly been a mahout himself in another life (he is certainly a hoot in this one) as demonstrated in the photo below.

Midway into our trek in the jungle we were each given the opportunity of getting out of the chair and riding on our respective elephants barebacked.  Amira was first to brave bareback (which, actually, was more like bareneck), 

and I was likewise persuaded to give it a chance.  To my surprise it was simply exhilarating, and I felt completely comfortable being the "mahout" (who, fortunately, were standing by giving commands).

I cannot describe the comfort and thrill I felt as Sarrapurn's soft and graceful ears wrapped around my feet with a rhythmic, tender caress.  It felt quite like love.

After a circuit of the jungle, we followed a path to a dry river bed, 

where the banks began increasingly to hold water,

until we finally reached a point in the river bed at which the water level was sufficiently high for the elephants to go under.  The mahouts dismantled the seats on Sarrapurn and Ana, 

while Mark and Amira rested in anticipation of the Big Swim, 

and I surveyed the landscape, finding (no surprise) yet another heart floating near the dock.

The swim itself was rather anti-climactic, at least for me.  I was accustomed at that point to riding bareback, but as Sarrapurn descended into the deep water and began splashing about I felt a bit of panic.  When the mahouts had Sarrapurn and Ana submerge us underwater,

I was even more alarmed, since slipping off into the swampy-looking river, dotted with great clumps of elephant excrement, was not particularly appealing.  (Thailand is no place to be a germophobe, let me tell you.)  Besides, I had no idea how I would remount.

 Mark did slip off Ana right into the drink, and yet somehow climbed back up on the proverbial saddle. 

In the main I think the swimming was more fun for the elephants than it was for us, although we do appear to be enjoying ourselves.  

Still, the smiles you see on our faces below, I think, are largely smiles of relief at not having fallen off and been unwittingly stomped by our pachyderm friends.

Once back at the camp the mahouts chained up our sweet animals and we bought a basket of unpeeled chunks of green banana and unpeeled, spiny pineapple chunks to feed them. 

Sarrapurn deftly conveyed the improbably edible fruit to her beautiful, deep pink tongue and mouth,

 and in a single gulp swallowed the fruit.  Satisfied, she willingly posed for some photos.

It was her eyes that most intrigued me.  I wanted so much to commune with her, to be able to get a sense of the state of her heart and soul.  But as I peered into her eye all I discerned was a Divine Indifference. 

I had the definite sense she was not unhappy, though she was not beholden in any way.  It seemed she was content enough to be safe, to be with her child.  The human world was not her concern.  Still, notice the heart at the corner of her eye in the photo above.  

Notice the heart.

Random Images, Random Moments

There are so many other experiences I could recall as I write this blog.  Here are some of the random images and moments that make their own statement about the poignant, comic, ironic, lovely and sometimes heart-breaking realities we experienced in Thailand.


...a "rescued" monkey at the elephant camp, chained around his neck, offered for photo shots.

...a dilapidated, ramshackle bungalow called (tongue-in-cheek, I imagine) the "3 Seasons."

...the lower half of a mannequin, randomly clothed (though whether intended as a comical or decorative statement is uncertain).

...a photo shoot for purposes we could not fathom (an Asian Alice in Wonderland?) at the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre.

...an architecturally remarkable lodging (bright pink dragon's limbs!) on Koh Samet.

...a strikingly modern coffee shop, "Coffee Blue," off a busy highway in rural Thailand.

...two stray cats taking shelter from the mid-day heat on a busy Koh Samet beach.

...my breakfast each morning.

...a baby walker abandoned on a busy city street.

...an enigmatic sand sculpture found on the Le Vimarn beach at dawn.

...the flotsam and jetsam collecting on a random branch at low tide..

...Amira's favorite fruit shake stand near the Sabai-Sabai.

...simple serenity.

...a shoe display at a Skytrain station.

...an abandoned spirit house at an abandoned building.

...a lone and lovely Thai cricket, burnished like fine wood, hiding behind the bath towel in the posh hotel (I rescued and released it in the garden on the balcony).

...the shrine at the elephant camp.

...chillin' on the beach at Koh Samet.

...an art exhibit that should, I think, be titled "Thailand," but wasn't.

...deities reclining in the lobby pool at Le Vimarn on Koh Samet.

...dragon fruit (also called pitaya) at a street market, its flaming exterior a disguise hiding the surprisingly bland white and black-speckled flesh within.

...a stray white dog on a white-hot sidewalk in Koh Samet village.

...random trash piled at one of the entrances to the popular Koh Samet public beach, whose photo follows.

...the Dan Kao Cabana Pier off Koh Chang.

...twin fishing boats we saw off the pier at our return.

...the giant shrine at Suvarnabhumi Airport.

...more chillin'.

...across the street from a "fish spa" on a Koh Chang street, where tiny (toothless!) garra ruffa fish nibble your feet clean (and where the Bangkok Post emphasized there was a serious risk of infection).

...the sign for the unconvincingly designated "Digital Park," pictured in the photo that follows.

...a modern convenience store, Thai-style.

...another view looking out from the the peerless Trat airport.

...birds-in-paradise draping down from a giant urn in the lobby of Le Vimarn.

...a photo commemorating the consecration of the Ban Changtai Elephant Park.

...spirit houses, at night, on a busy Koh Chang village street.

...a children's playground thoughtfully provided inside the Trat airport.

...the next tattoo I want to get.

...a garden outside a window at Suvarnabhumi Airport.

...the sign for Ban Changtai Elephant Park in its idyllic vision of itself.

...a monsoon shower at Rim Chiang Hotel during breakfast.

...the makeshift "home" of the fellow who rents the motorbikes.

...a blossom caught on the rental car door handle.

...fragrant frangipani floating in a ceramic rain-catcher.

...the body as sacred manuscript on the beach at Koh Samet.

...a few minutes of sublime peace.

...a photo that looks like a chalk pastel of children playing on the beach at night.

...one of three shrines immediately outside of highway 7-11 store, with, of all things, cans of soda as a votive offering.

...a garish, distorted figure, a tragic symbol of the sex industry in which approximately 2.8 million Thai women and men work (as estimated by a Thai professor in 2004), including 800,000 minors under the age of 18.

...a chipped and crumbling Thai statue with the ingratiating grin of the servant, holding bags of gold and silver, profits he hands over to his master.

And then there are just the random moments, not captured on digital film, but nonetheless so telling, so moving.

...a black dog limping painfully out of a city parking garage in early morning.

...a man fishing in a ditch filled with murky, polluted-looking waters by the side of the road.

...a flock of Asian Openbill storks lifting above a rice paddy.

...a woman nursing an infant while sitting in the passenger seat of an old pick-up truck hurtling past on the crowded road.

...a darling littleThai girl in front of an open air restaurant on a busy street very late at night, pressed into being a shill for the tourists when she should have long since been in bed, grabbing Amira's hand as we passed and trying to pull her by the arm to a table.

...a motorbike lying on the shoulder of the road, its young rider dashing out to retrieve his helmet from the middle of a busy two-lane road.

...a young, stunningly handsome, modern Indian male sitting at an airport table across from his modest and plain wife.  As they leave I see a dark, heart-shaped bruise on her upper arm.

...a dilapidated spirit house with fresh votive offerings on the shoulder of a busy highway.

...a motorbike on which sit a mother, a father, and their toddler, improbably wedged between his father and the handlebars of the motorbike, racing past us on the shoulder of the road.

...a thin, bare-chested young Thai male turning to his side to throw a fishing net into a pond on a country road at dusk.


...a large pick-up truck crammed tightly with dusty, pale pink pigs, fat as the sausages they were soon to be.


...a black dog leaping out of the path of a dirty white pick-up as it aimed to hit him.


...a mammoth billboard spanning the width of an eight-lane highway advertising Dunlap tires.

...all traffic stopping at the Suvarnabhumi airport as the royal family motorcade drives up.

...a ten-foot tall black marble Buddha standing serenely in the back of a pick-up truck speeding down the highway.