Maesa Elephant Camp, Day 2

First, go ahead and read about my experience at Maesa Elephant Camp, Day 1. Go ahead....I'll wait!

This is copied directly from my pen-and-paper journal (which I bought at the camp, and which is made out of elephant dung paper!!)...simple, uncut, uncensored, unedited. And yes...the smiley faces are in the original text. Enjoy!!

So...Day 2. I was elated and ecstatic and giddy (even though I awoke to the sound of someone's wet, mucky, painful-sounding hacking cough and the crowing of a smoky-voiced rooster) from the day before. I was BEYOND excited, and just kept repeating over and over again, HOLY CRAP, THIS IS MY LIFE! I felt so incredibly grateful and awake and excited. The day started early--we had left Wanpen in the jungle overnight, so we had to hike in to get her. I was smart this time, though: instead of wearing the crappy sandals that they provided for me (two sizes too big!), which were NOT good for hiking (I majorly sliced open the bottom of my big toe...hardly the worst injury I would sustain :) ), I opted for wearing my own comfy shoes. It was a gray, misty morning--the mist was wound around the trees like cotton, barely moving. The jungle was wet and alive and making its morning sounds. I could barely walk because of all of the mud from the rainstorm the night before. There were deep, elephant foot-shaped puddles everywhere, and HOLY LORD, was the hike strenuous! I clearly hadn't noticed the day before, as, um, I was on the elephant, but it was all pretty much STRAIGHT UPHILL. And slippery. Before long the mist in the air settled onto my skin and mixed with my sweat. I was SOAKED. Wanpen was so adorable--she was full of jungle nourishment and COVERED in mud. I climbed on, and wow, din she ever NOT want to leave the jungle! As soon as V., her mahout, would get far enough ahead, she would sneak off the path in search of more food. I would kick a little, and try the commands, but she didn't REALLY listen to me, so mostly I just laughed and waited for V. to rescue me.

I would learn on that (beautiful, peaceful, and quiet save for V.'s occasional shouts at Wanpen and the firecrackers that the hilltribe children--who live near the elephant camp--were setting off) that Wanpen a.) is a bit of a 'fraidy cat, and b.) hates deep mud. Two bits of information that would come into play on day three.....

Apparently, Wanpen was spooked by the sound of firecrackers, a fact that I did not notice in my content, hazy oblivion until V. started leading her by the ear and looking at her sideways. He finally told me to get off. He said, "My elephant is scared, and when she gets scared, she RUNS!" Wanpen just lumbered along in front of us for a ways, snacking as she went, her lower jaw moving back and forth, until the sound died down and I could climb back on. I felt like a freakin' princess riding into camp on her. It was an unforgettable feeling.

Since Wanpen was a complete mud ball, it was time for a much-needed bath! The bath on the second day was much more elaborate than the bath on the first day--I really had to scrub every inch of her with the scrub brush. I was getting soaked, but I was loving every second of it. She was splashing around, using her trunk as a snorkel....LOVE IT!! After she was nice and clean (and her skin was wonderfully soft) I climbed back on. Now, I didn't know it at the time, but apparently other tourists were usually not able to climb on by themselves the way I could [see day 1 for details]. On the first day they also had me mount using Wanpen's hind leg, climb to her neck, and dismount using her front leg. When I totally ROCKED that, V. showed me the super advanced "professional" dismount: Scoot back to the elephant's butt, swing one leg over so that you're sitting sideways, step onto the elephant's raised hind leg (with your body facing away from the elephant), and step to the ground. I was going to attempt it on the first day, but didn't quite feel comfortable enough. However, I was DETERMINED to try it the second day. Now, at the time I thought that this dismount was something that EVERYONE who visited the camp could do. Standard camp procedure. I would later find out that this was not, in fact, the case. I was one of very few privileged individuals to attempt this dismount. If I had known this ahead of time, well....I still TOTALLY would have tried it :)

So anyway, after Wanpen's bath we went on a very muddy trek back to camp. C., my main caretaker, had gone to get water, and M., my other caretaker, was helping a British couple who had arrived that day. So it was just V. and me. We got back to camp and were in the area where they teach the elephants to paint (and where the ground is VERY hard), and we decided to practice getting on and off, and to attempt the hind leg dismount. So....I had swung my leg over, stepped on Wanpen's raised hind leg, and, well, thought I was much closer to the ground than I actually was. And, well, I was maaaaaybe not supervised as closely as I should have been, and V. wasn't really helping to ease me to the ground (or, more accurately, catch me). I ended up sorta falling, landing awkwardly on the ball of my right foot, and hearing a loud POP as my foot collapsed under me.

OUCH. HOLY LORD, DID IT HURT!!!!

I was able to stand up and hobble to the nearest chair where I elevated my foot, while V.--who was totally panicked--kept asking me if I was hurt. And, well, I couldn't quite find the voice to answer him. He went running to get C., and I was NOT allowing the panicked thoughts that were brewing in my gut to travel to my brain ("What if it's broken? How will I get around Bangkok in crutches?? How will I get up and down the stairs at school? What about the rest of my trip? What if I'm wearing a cast and my leg gets infected and HAS TO BE AMPUTATED????"). I was just taking deep breaths, staying completely calm, trying to slow my racing heart. After icing it for a little bit, and successfully wiggling all of my toes (which led me to believe that it was most likely not broken), I decided that I needed to get into my bed STAT, which was luckily close by. I was feeling lightheaded, and my vision was doing its T.V. static-esque warning that I might faint. I stood up, the blood rushed to my head (or left it?? How does that work, exactly??), and I promptly had to sit on the ground with my head between my legs. I attempted to stand two more times with the same result, and my face was damp with a cold sweat. C. finally put me on his back and carried me. After plopping me down on my bed, he got me an ice pack and said he'd be back in a couple of hours to check on me. I was in SO MUCH PAIN, and my toes were starting to look like sausages as my foot began to swell. BUT, again, I was simply refusing to acknowledge any fearful, dramatic, negative, worst-case-scenario thoughts about my injury. I stayed calm and fully present, and just kept telling myself that I didn't yet have enough information to jump to any conclusions (though everyone, including me, was fairly certain that it wasn't broken). I spent the rest of the day enjoying the book The Secret Life of Bees, taking painkillers, and sleeping. Later, V., C., M., and some female staff members came to check on me. One of the women put some strong balm on my foot and massaged it, which felt SO good (yet another indication that it probably wasn't broken).

So I was perfectly content to just hang out, take it easy, nap, read, and let the staff pamper me a bit. That is, until about midnight when I came unraveled because of the PAIN and called my mom and BAWLED (man....mothers are ALWAYS great for drying tears, even when they're half a world away). However, once that was out of my system I realized that the main reason why I was so upset was because I thought that I was not going to be able to finish the program--this once-in-a-lifetime, totally amazing, complete dream come true--and that just broke my heart. BUT....even despite the roosters and the guy with the technicolor phlegm that interrupted my sleep all night long, I awoke that morning feeling COMPLETELY determined: I was going to ride Wanpen again and be in the elephant show and do the elephant painting if I had to be CARRIED from place to place. I was very no-nonsense when I declared this to M. after hobbling out of my room, hands on hips, and he knew that I meant business. He just looked at me, gave me a compliant bow, told me that I am "very strong," and helped me limp to breakfast.

The Day 3 installment will be coming soon!!!!

Oh, and an update on the foot injury: Just as I suspected, it was NOT broken, or even fractured. Just severely sprained. It still looks like a bloated, rotting piece of meat with its all-encompassing bruises and bubble toes, but it gets better each day, and my limp is now much less pronounced. And.....it was so. totally. worth. it. To be honest, when they told me that the dismount was the super advanced, professional dismount, I felt like a total badass. Hey, accidents happen, and I'm so happy I didn't waste any time or energy stressing about my injury. Because, at the end of the day, it's just a minor inconvenience. Besides...how many people can say that they injured themselves DISMOUNTING AN ELEPHANT FROM ITS HIND LEG???