So, after riding elephants in Thailand last week, because that's how I roll, I came down with a disgusting infected rash all over my legs! Ahhh! Elephantitis! (I know, right?) Even more tragic, those elephants were awesome and made me want to run away and join the circus immediately. So the red bumps, pain, and whole mysterious-ailment-in-a-strange-country thing had me kind of freaking out, but also inspired me as I tried to figure out why this ridiculous elephant rash had gotten me so scared. I wrote an article about the whole saga for the Globe & Mail's Travel section, but alas it was cut (mostly for space). Since I had way more story to tell, here's the original in all its glory, plus some extra thoughts into which I digressed... you know, childhood and Thai massages and watching Circus of the Stars -- was that not the best show ever?
You can read the Globe version here (though I am a technologically fool and can't figure out how to make the link active, sorry. Which might be better, actually, because I'm not sure I feel positive vibes about the close-up photo of my wet and disheveled face plastered on the cover of the section): http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/travel/falling-in-love-with-an-elephant/article1353906/
Anyway, here's the extended mix:
My legs looked like dragon fruits. Overnight, at least a hundred angry, painful, itchy red bumps had popped up all over my calves. From that day forward, the sympathetic greeting I would receive from strangers all over Thailand when checking into hotels or sitting down to dinner was, "Khun Simona, we heard you have a terrible infected skin rash." (Khun means Mr., Miss or Mrs.) "May I see?" This was usually followed by, "Ohhh, my mother got something similar at the beach. She still has scars."
Wonderful. As a media guest of the governmental ministry of tourism, my infected rash was evidently the talk of the kingdom. After a few days in Bangkok, we flew to the Northern cities and Chiang Mai and Chang Rai for jungle adventures.
Though I hadn’t noticeably freaked out, inside I was unraveling.
In one of the greatest ironies of the 21st century, this crisis of dermatology (and psychology) resulted from one of the best experiences of my life. His name was Boon Pak. He was just my type, a teenage male rescued from the circus. I posted pictures of us on Facebook: Simona and Boon Pak frolicking in the jungle. Simona and Boon Pak feeding each other bananas. He liked me too, I could tell by the way he laid his tusks on my shoulder the moment we met at Patara Elephant Farm.
Hidden among the teak trees and rice fields an hour’s drive from our posh accommodations at the Four Seasons Resort Chiang Mai, Patara is owned by hard-working idealist Theerapat (Pat) Trungprakan and his wife Dao, who are passionate about elephants and employ 25 young guys from the neighbouring hill tribes as mahouts -- elephant trainers. The sustainable breeding farm is home to 15 of Thailand’s 3,500 domestic pachyderms. (1,200 to 1,500 more live in the wild but the elephant population has been dropping steadily.) In the farm’s elephant-owner-for-a-day excursion, visitors learn to feed, bathe, care for and ride these largest of land mammals. and a CD of photos of you in various stages of quasi elephant-owning. (In a sign of the times, Patara's mahouts have also become terrific digital photographers. In between traditional duties like keeping their large charges in check and carrying our flip-flops, water bottles and sunscreen, they also snapped hundreds of professional shots.) Pat even supplies a poncho.
I didn't wear the poncho, but turns out I’m a natural. I rode Boon Pak like a pro, tucking my heels behind his ears and trusting my new friend to lead me through a thunderstorm that turned the tropical jungle into a rocky mud bath, then into the waterfall for a swim. Like most adolescents, he stopped to eat every few minutes, pulling snacks of foliage from trees and sticking his trunk into every curiosity. As did gypsies and queens before me, I relaxed into his steady rhythm and felt more calm love radiating from this creature than I have from any human. I lay flat on Boon Pak’s warm back and stared up at the rain. I had found my destiny, I was certain.
I closed my eyes and thought of Circus of the Stars. Remember that TV show from the '80s? Until now, I hadn't recalled it existed, but here I was, back in my parents bedroom in the suburb where we lived before they divorced. I remember the sparkly lady who rode the elephants, standing on their backs in red sequins, smiling like she was queen of the world.
Her uncanny sense of balance reminded me of the 95-pound Thai masseuse who a few days later walked on my back at a Koh Samui spa resort, soothing and reassuring that I'd be OK. She was ecstatic because that morning her ten year old son had arrived on the island. He had been living with her mother in Bangkok while she worked abroad for years saving money to raise him herself. Finally, that day had arrived. Like this tiny, nurturing woman with hands and feet of steel, the circus lady must have been special in some way, I remember thinking, for the elephant to let her do that, to trust her.
"Maybe you are an elephant," joked Pat. Cool! Who wouldn’t want to be an elephant? Buddhists say they bring luck -- touching a white elephant can lead to enlightenment.
"We believe the elephant is on top of the animal pyramid," Dao explained. "We believe in reincarnation. If you are an elephant in this life you will be a human in the next life."
Elephants are gentle, strong, smart, fun, empathetic, reliable and earthy. They’re also vegetarian, as I’ve been since age 12 when I lived for a year on an Israeli kibbutz. Its slaughterhouse was nothing fancy, lambs and chickens, mostly, but still wildly disturbing to play with lambs one day and the next, see them on your plate. Gross. Enough to turn me off meat for good. Animals and I understand each other. I can be myself with them more than I can with humans. But my body won’t let me -- I’m allergic. To cats, dogs, horses, and now, decreed the rash a few days later, elephants.
Everyone said I would be OK. But still the fear remained.
"Not dangerous," pronounced the dermatologist at Bangkok’s fancy Bumrungrad International Hospital. He sees this sort of thing all the time, although not this extreme, as revealed by the "ooooh," that escaped from his lips. Apparently, tiny bugs on Boon Pak’s coarse hair (likely, mites) had attacked my skin, softened from the rain and river. I was allergic to the bugs and also to elephants. He prescribed meds and sent me on my way. So much for destiny.
Keeping things in perspective, I'm fine. This is not serious. Many travelers have contracted far worse. In contrast to the gentle strength of the Buddhist culture around me, my neurotic worry felt even louder: I was faced with a dragon-fruit version of The Unknown. Ugly. Scary. I was alone, not only in this strange, beautiful country, but with the what-ifs in my head, where critters marched gleefully through my being like soldiers of the Third Reich. Yes, I do have a flair for melodrama. But hypochondria, as everyone knows, is a good Jewish trait. And considering that my long, strong pretty legs had turned into a nasty mess of welts, I don't think my reaction was entirely inappropriate.
Luckily, Thailand is full of magical distractions: Radiant monks wrapped in orange walk barefoot through villages at sunrise to beg for the day’s food. The sounds and smells of Bangkok, motorbikes, tuk-tuks and that lack of air that makes elegant ladies (and chivalrous men) carry smelling salts. The smouldering flavours of lemongrass, tamarind, ginger and jasmine that turn a simple meal into a feast. The way people bow to one another in greeting (called a wai). The ornate miniature houses -- "spirit houses" -- plunked in front of every home, because Thais believe everything has a spirit.
Including my legs. Like characters in a Tolstoy novel or ancient fable, they had taken on lives of their own. My every vulnerability seeped into those sores. I was scared. Of what? I don't know, of life. Of everything good for which I've worked and dreamed that will propel me far from the fear passed on through generations; that familiar way to connect, somehow, to our past.
Despite their regal status, elephants haven’t always had an easy ride. Throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, they were the main vehicles of Southeast Asian warfare, carrying kings to battle.In 1989, Thailand banned logging to protect forests and ecosystems and many working elephants were abandoned by owners who couldn’t afford to keep them. Poachers still hunt entire elephant families to kidnap the babies as tourist attractions, and also for their ivory tusks. (Boon Pak is especially coveted for his long, gorgeous tusks and spotted ears.) But still, life goes on for the elephants,each with his or her own personality, their phases of existence quietly reflecting the human experience: making friends, coming of age, falling in love, growing old.
Some Thai charities and government programs focus on rescuing abused or domesticated elephants. But for this endangered species to survive, healthy elephants too must thrive and reproduce. Four babies so far were born at Patara, two sent to live in the wild as part of another government program. Pat and Dao check up on them regularly, and they’re doing OK.
Did you know elephants only sweat through their toenails?
Ten days later I’m starting to feel better, red bumps starting to deflate. But I'm tired, from fighting infection, jet lag, and the stress of the situation. (Did I mention the leeches? The day prior we went trekking through the jungle on a trail called Track of the Tiger that should have been called Track of the Leeches. But that's another story..) But I’d do it all again! For me, this is the spirit of travel; going off into new wilds to make it on your own, facing fears you didn’t know you had to grow into who you want to be.
So Boon Pak has brought me luck. Before I left Thailand, another doctor checked out the leg scene. All good. "I will remember you," he smiled. "The elephant girl!"
GETTING THERE
Cathay Pacific (www.cathaypacific.com) has excellent service from Toronto to Bangkok through Hong Kong; from Bangkok, Thai Airways and Bangkok Airways connect to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai.
WHERE TO STAY
Four Seasons Tented Camp P.O. Box 18, Chiang Saen Post Office; 66 (0) 53 910-200; www.fourseasons.com/goldentriangle. From about $1,800 for a minimum two-night stay. Lets you feel like a 19th-century explorer in luxurious tented accommodations. Nestled in the jungle, the all-inclusive resort operates an elephant program in conjunction with the Thai Elephant Conservation Center (www.helpingelephants.org). Elephants are brought to breakfast with guests every morning.
WHAT TO DO
Patara Elephant Farm 299/22 Siwalee Rachapreuk MaeHea; 66 (0) 819 922-551; www.pataraelephantfarm.com. About $184 for a one-day excursion.
MORE INFORMATION
www.tourismthailand.org
