Northern Thailand (Part One): "Water for Elephants"

Two weeks after leaving India, Laura and I flew into Thailand's second largest city, Chiang Mai, situated in the center of the northern tip of the country. Minutes after stepping off the plane, I got the sense that this was going to be a different kind of trip. Our experiences in India had, in effect, altered much in terms of how I perceived the world around me. Indeed, over the next few days, India would prove to be a kind of barometer in which so much was judged and compared against. Yet while India served to put forward themes of mortality and suffering and the endurance of the human spirit (four hours of vomiting at fifteen minute intervals while traveling overland by car is proof of that), Thailand was to re-affirm these notions in much more dramatic and unexpected ways.

Exploring Chiang Mai

There exists a marked shift in tone between Chiang Mai, and, I'll argue, all of India (with the exception of about two blocks in Fort Kochi which are so removed from the rest of India that they don't have much right to call themselves a part of India at all). There is a noticeable sense of calm that shrouds Chiang Mai. That isn't to say that there is a lack of people, or a lack of congestion on the roadways, or a lack of state propaganda or Buddhist prayer blaring from speakers afixed to every telephone pole in town. It's just that with all of these distractions and potential annoyances, it's just as easy to ignore them.




For unlike India, Chiang Mai offers definitive moments of quiet, where it becomes easy to forget that you are in the region's largest urban centre. Instead, there is a feeling of peace and relative harmony, a result perhaps, of the influence of the numerous Buddhist temples that are scattered throughout the city and outlying areas.

And unlike India, people in Chiang Mai approach you not out of a desire to sell or scam, but out of desire to be helpful - to the extent that during our first morning in the city, we succeeded in walking roughly a total of two blocks due to the number of people wanting to stop and chat and offer their insights into life in the city. It was a welcome and refreshing change. Even the tuk tuk drivers smiled and thanked us, despite the fact that we'd turned down their offers for rides.

Of course, there was one rather significant drawback to Thailand's renowned hospitality, in the sense that Thais in general will go out of their way to be helpful and to ensure that you are well taken care of to a fault, even if that means providing you with advice or information on topics they know little to nothing about. On more than one occasion we were given directions to locations that bore no resemblance to what was printed on the map, and more than once we were told of interesting events occuring in the city that never in fact came to fruition (including the promise of an enormous parade consisting of a large menagerie of garbed elephants).






I fully recognize the fact that most people reading this will point to the obvious fact that these people were likely shitting us, but the fact is they all came across as entirely genuine and sincere, and even if they were taking a piss, they didn't seem to mean to do so in a malicious way. The fact that they weren't attempting to gain anything from any false information they gave us was, in fact, welcomed, despite the frustrations and letdowns that ensued.

Of course, the one tip that did stand up related directly to why everyone seemed to be in town that weekend: custom tailoring. After having been told numerous times about the earth-shattering sale at the quality-controlled government shop in downtown Chiang Mai, I became compelled to check out the bargains to be had first hand. Apparently, this was THE thing to do in Chiang Mai - I simply couldn't pass up such a key cultural experience. And besides, as I would later learn, my ass looks sexy in custom-tailored pants.



The Scooter

Anyone who has been to Thailand (or Southeast Asia for that matter) can attest to the abundance of scooters and motorbikes that proliferate the roadways, and seem, through some Divine interference, to avoid slamming into one another, or anything else on the road, sidewalk or shop entrance for that matter. In fact, as a rule, most Thais seem entirely at ease maneuvering a motorized bike, as many begin riding them before they can even walk.

For those of us not born in Thailand, namely me, acclimatizing to the subtle nuances of travel-by-scooter presented some unique and unexpected challenges. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I nearly sped directly into a parked car, braking mere inches away, before I'd even left the rental shop, but not once during the entire day did I feel entirely at ease despite my growing confidence and control as the day wore on. That isn't to say that the experience wasn't an enjoyable one. Traveling by scooter is certainly ideal in a city such as Chiang Mai, as it allowed us to explore the outlying villages and countryside more intimately and at our own pace.





Elephant Nature Park

On the advice of two of Laura's colleagues, we made arrangements to travel an hour out of Chiang Mai to Elephant Nature Park, a conservation area devoted to the rescue and rehabilitation of Thailand's dwindling domestic elephant population. The decision to visit the park had been a last minute one, having made the booking only a few days prior to leaving Singapore. Having had the experience of seeing elephants up close in the wilds of India, I had a definite thirst for more. But with the glut of "elephant camps" that have set up shop in Thailand, I was discouraged by the fact that they all came across as overly touristy and lacking the kind of genuine and unique experience I wanted to have.

Elephant Nature Park promised to be different and it did not fail to deliver. In fact, our overnight stay at the park was in many ways profound, sublime and eye-opening in ways that would later inform our notions of travel and the kind of tourists we'd both like to see ourselves as being.






Founded in the mid-90s, Elephant Nature Park began as a response to the significant cruelty and neglect inflicted upon domestic elephants in Thailand, who had, for the most part, been used in the country's logging industry before it had been dismantled in 1989. This resulted in an over-population of elephants who had become, essentially, out of work.

This lead to a proliferation of elephant-themed tourism - usually in the form of elephant rides at trekking camps and elephant begging in larger cities - as well as a host of other novelty acts such as elephant-painting and circus-type acts that we were to learn more often than not contribute to the animal's physical and mental breakdown. In addition, Thailand's elephants were still subject to the centuries-old practice of training elephants through torture in order to break their will and become submissive to their human handlers. A shocking percentage of elephants fail to survive the initial phase of torture, while others risk physical punishment continually throughout their lives. There was, for instance, one rescued elephant at the park who was blind in both eyes from their having been shot at repeatedly with a slingshot.





Many of the elephants' stories were heartbreaking, but as we became familiar with them through even our limited encounters during feeding and washing times, and during our walks through the park itself, their stories became equally inspiring.






It was amazing to see so many of these elephants who had known nothing but abuse and hardship slip back into a way of behaving naturally known only from instinct, such as forming family groups, raising babies, and coming to the aid of another elephant in distress. Of course, many of these elephants have not and will most likely not ever recover from the physical and mental trauma that they endured, but there is some relief in knowing that the remainder of their lives will be significantly better than what they've known.

Next: Something goes horribly wrong...