The social responsibility of a be-trunked Rotarian (or the dangers of not paying attention in whisky meetings)
Can there be two sides to the figurative sublime? Must we travel from the sublime to the ridiculous? If so, how can we decide which is more ridiculous?
...take the other evening, for instance, we started with the ridiculous within the literally sublime, a welcome champagne cocktail and sunset elephant trek with canapés atop a platform on our elephant hill; a 360 degree view of the evening in the golden triangle; three countries, Thailand's muted street lighting, red road dust thrown up by speeding pick-ups in Laos and the smoke from the cooking fires of Burma tinged the air beneath us while swallows gave way to bats above us.
The sun went down red behind the Doi Tung massif - though today we could see even further into Burma - leaving speckled darkness all the way to the twinkling lights of Mae Sai in the far distance.
A moment so sublime as to be ridiculous (I'll get up there again and try to capture it on camera, but you won't get the champagne bubbles-up-your-nose feeling unless you come and see for yourself)...
...once dusk had settled those of us with work to do took our leave (whilst our guests took their rested elephants down the hill) and we moved the evening from the highest Western explorer fantasy to the nitty gritty of a local Rotary Club meeting, friendly smiles and warm wais, whisky not well hidden in soda, great food (including the soon to be world famous Rim Khong hot dogs) and, after the business, Karaoke.
Thai modernity in full regalia, discussions for sublime thinking - this is where the charity work is done, where real life lives, no time for the ridicule of the champagne set.
We were new-comers and welcomed all the more warmly for it, my companions didn't drink so it was left to me to hold up that end (how often have I used that as an excuse?) so by the time everyone started talking about the upcoming Children's Day celebrations I had that warm glow and fancied I could understand my adopted language far better than I can when sober, so when they asked about eles I agreed to it all.
Luckily they got me out before I decided I could also sing Thai and it was only on the way home that I realised that, while I thought I had invited their children to visit us in camp, I had accepted their invitation for the elephants to visit them - the slight logistical difference that this implied clouded my mind, but only for the morrow - nothing is impossible after an evening of two different versions of the sublime (and in having friends to prevent one from becoming the ridiculous).
Come Children's Day (I'll call it by the Thai - wan dek - from now on as I cannot guarantee that my apostrophe is correctly placed) we had negotiated that two eles would attend the Rotarian Wan Dek celebration in Chiang Saen to try to introduce the only generation of Thais that have been without elephants as part of their daily lives but that (thanks to nursery rhymes, television and cartoons) still have them as part of the National consciousness, to the real thing, trunks, tails and all.
Nam Chok and Pumpui got the call for community service and I have said elsewhere how much I enjoy watching Thai folks introduced to their national animal on the elephants' terms - those of the generation who can remember when every village had one or two elephants, or who remember when the area was logged out and armies of eles must have been here, reacting with reverence, love and nostalgia.
But wan dek is all about the children and they are the ones who we were watching yesterday, the initial terror, the offering arm getting shorter and shorter, the realisation that the probing trunk is only after the fruit until, for the very brave, a mobile phone photograph eye-to-eye with the beast is possible.
Perhaps there are glories rather than dangers of not paying attention in whisky meetings, I would never have agreed to it if I could speak Thai properly, but for the looks on the faces and the good that was done it was well worth it. Pumpui and Nam Chok themselves were like kids at Christmas, the truck ride out (trunks over the edge at the speeding countryside - think dogs, car windows and tongues) and then a morning of the most varied fruit and food, in constant supply, hand fed with adulation...
...initial reticence and a few Chinese sailors...
...the look on this little boy's face says it all, wow, where did that banana go?..
...unfortunately, 'Pui is not quite as polite in asking...
...another kid, another look of wonder - and by now she's not at arm's length anymore, just the trunk left to conquer...
...a sneaky shot of the slightly more daunting task of keeping old lightning trunk fed...
...and by the end, our two girls had a million proffered arms from a million servants, "pick mine, pick mine!".
Like kids at Christmas, after all this adulation and excitement, Nam Chok and Pumpui slept the sleep of the just and the fat last night.
...take the other evening, for instance, we started with the ridiculous within the literally sublime, a welcome champagne cocktail and sunset elephant trek with canapés atop a platform on our elephant hill; a 360 degree view of the evening in the golden triangle; three countries, Thailand's muted street lighting, red road dust thrown up by speeding pick-ups in Laos and the smoke from the cooking fires of Burma tinged the air beneath us while swallows gave way to bats above us.
The sun went down red behind the Doi Tung massif - though today we could see even further into Burma - leaving speckled darkness all the way to the twinkling lights of Mae Sai in the far distance.
A moment so sublime as to be ridiculous (I'll get up there again and try to capture it on camera, but you won't get the champagne bubbles-up-your-nose feeling unless you come and see for yourself)...
...once dusk had settled those of us with work to do took our leave (whilst our guests took their rested elephants down the hill) and we moved the evening from the highest Western explorer fantasy to the nitty gritty of a local Rotary Club meeting, friendly smiles and warm wais, whisky not well hidden in soda, great food (including the soon to be world famous Rim Khong hot dogs) and, after the business, Karaoke.
Thai modernity in full regalia, discussions for sublime thinking - this is where the charity work is done, where real life lives, no time for the ridicule of the champagne set.
We were new-comers and welcomed all the more warmly for it, my companions didn't drink so it was left to me to hold up that end (how often have I used that as an excuse?) so by the time everyone started talking about the upcoming Children's Day celebrations I had that warm glow and fancied I could understand my adopted language far better than I can when sober, so when they asked about eles I agreed to it all.
Luckily they got me out before I decided I could also sing Thai and it was only on the way home that I realised that, while I thought I had invited their children to visit us in camp, I had accepted their invitation for the elephants to visit them - the slight logistical difference that this implied clouded my mind, but only for the morrow - nothing is impossible after an evening of two different versions of the sublime (and in having friends to prevent one from becoming the ridiculous).
Come Children's Day (I'll call it by the Thai - wan dek - from now on as I cannot guarantee that my apostrophe is correctly placed) we had negotiated that two eles would attend the Rotarian Wan Dek celebration in Chiang Saen to try to introduce the only generation of Thais that have been without elephants as part of their daily lives but that (thanks to nursery rhymes, television and cartoons) still have them as part of the National consciousness, to the real thing, trunks, tails and all.
Nam Chok and Pumpui got the call for community service and I have said elsewhere how much I enjoy watching Thai folks introduced to their national animal on the elephants' terms - those of the generation who can remember when every village had one or two elephants, or who remember when the area was logged out and armies of eles must have been here, reacting with reverence, love and nostalgia.
But wan dek is all about the children and they are the ones who we were watching yesterday, the initial terror, the offering arm getting shorter and shorter, the realisation that the probing trunk is only after the fruit until, for the very brave, a mobile phone photograph eye-to-eye with the beast is possible.
Perhaps there are glories rather than dangers of not paying attention in whisky meetings, I would never have agreed to it if I could speak Thai properly, but for the looks on the faces and the good that was done it was well worth it. Pumpui and Nam Chok themselves were like kids at Christmas, the truck ride out (trunks over the edge at the speeding countryside - think dogs, car windows and tongues) and then a morning of the most varied fruit and food, in constant supply, hand fed with adulation...
...initial reticence and a few Chinese sailors...
...the look on this little boy's face says it all, wow, where did that banana go?..
...unfortunately, 'Pui is not quite as polite in asking...
...another kid, another look of wonder - and by now she's not at arm's length anymore, just the trunk left to conquer...
...a sneaky shot of the slightly more daunting task of keeping old lightning trunk fed...
...and by the end, our two girls had a million proffered arms from a million servants, "pick mine, pick mine!".
Like kids at Christmas, after all this adulation and excitement, Nam Chok and Pumpui slept the sleep of the just and the fat last night.
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