Ja, wir haben bananas

     There are apparently several entrepreneurs in Sen Menorom who drive tourists out to the Project so they can spend a day with the elephants and/or volunteering.  I'm not sure what the arrangements are, but I got the impression that if one agrees to work a half-day that they get their meals and housing at a reduced rate.  
     But in any event, Tuesday morning brought a pair of one-day-only guests Patrik and Katte from Germany.  They both spoke embarrassingly good English (embarrassing because, despite three years of studying German in high school, I'm still not at all sure whether I even got the title of this blog right!)
     They were a delightful young couple.  Katte is serene, self-contained, and pleasant, and Patrik is filled with nervous energy and curiosity. 
     They were certainly up for the morning's activities, which was . . . a banana-buying trip to neighboring farms.   What an adventure this was!  Jack was still in Phnom Penh, so Jemma drove his fabulously beat up truck with all of us volunteers, plus Xerex the Great Dane, clinging to it somehow FAR back into the woods.
      It reminded me fondly of the old days when I would be bouncing through the woods at home with my dad, and he would tell me to get out of the truck and see if I could find the road!  
     There were times during this banana-shopping excursion when we did in fact lose track of the "road."  Plus, the ground, being pure red clay, was wet and slippery, the terrain was sometimes steep, and Jemma was unfamiliar with the foibles of the truck.  ALTHOUGH, I must add, Jemma is clearly no amateur when it comes to driving in non-urban settings.  She comes from a rural area in Australia and obviously knows her way around a rough road.  And she tackles everything with cheerful gusto, including paths that are roads in name only.
     Jemma thought we were picking up 75 young banana plants for planting at the Project and was surprised to hear from the farmers that Jack had ordered 200 plants!  The farmers had already dug them up and they were waiting for us, each from 3 to 8 feet high and ranging from 1 inch to 4 inches in diameter.  It was apparent that no elephant at the Project was going to be dehydrated for some time.
      We all fixed our minds on NOT thinking about spiders, scorpions, and snakes, and loaded all the plants into the truck.  The farmers thought we were quite amusing [or at least I CONCLUDE they did.  Maybe it's just that Cambodians laugh much of the time, or at least when we can't speak their language] and were happy to show us their farms and let us make faces at their children.  Both Becca and Megan are really good with children and draw them like magnets.  A sweaty good time was had by all, and somehow the 200 plants and all of us managed to get back to the Project.
     No photos of this excursion, regrettably.  It was too labor intensive to even carry a camera.

      In the afternoon, we all set out with the Big Four, and two of the elephants suddenly developed a plan to visit the OTHER valley, where the OTHER five elephants hang out, the place called "Heaven."  At first you don't really notice that an elephant is "running away."  All they do is head in a specific direction and keep ambling in that direction.  But they progress at a far faster rate than you'd expect, and before we knew it, the mahouts were running after them shouting "Eng!  Eng!" with much the same effect as when I say "Down" to Aramis--that is, none.  Eventually, with much cajoling and ear-pulling, they got them under control.  For your edification, this is what a runaway elephant looks like:

We rewarded their reluctant obedience with especially nice baths and had time for a brief clean up ourselves--the need for which, incidentally, CANNOT be overstated--before another of Tul's outstanding dinners, accompanied by my own concoction, a jungle cocktail made of grapefruit-flavored electrolytes dissolved in bottled water and VODKA.  You betcha.