Monday, February 13, 2012
5 months later: RUBY!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The End
It's been well over a month since I've seen an elephant, much less been privileged enough to give one a bath or say butter-butter-butter to one. This blog has been very good to me in that it has caused me to re-live my memories in detail and to record them in a way I'll be able to re-visit for years. And it's also been so very good to see on my "Stats" that there have been about 2000 views of this thing--some of them I'm sure by accident--since its inception in March. And some of you have been so good about commenting--thank you so very much.
I've been working with Jack and Jemma to see if there is some way to get some more of the little wooden elephants carved by the mahouts in case anyone here would like one. We still haven't learned whether that's feasible. I thought it would be good to sell some to people here so that the mahouts could make some extra money and the Project could have a little emergency fund too. Jack told me how they were offered an elephant for $7500--apparently not a bad price for an elephant--but they didn't happen to have that much on hand at the time. Shortly later they learned that the elephant had died of neglect.
If any of you feel moved to help the Project, there is a place you can donate on their website, which is at http://www.elephantvalleyproject.org/
If anyone feels like they might to go to the Project and has any questions, please either email me or leave a question in the comments section of this blog, and I will answer them promptly.
Another thing I need to say is this: when I told one of my friends about this trip I was planning, and she learned that Scott was not going, she said "Oh, no, is something wrong with your marriage?" I was stunned to hear her ask that. Scott has been so unbelievably supportive of this whole thing, despite his very real reservations. I would never have had the nerve to go without his reassurance and devotion and selflessness. I once read that one sign of a good marriage is whether you find yourself able to do important things you would not have done on your own. This trip has taught me that I am fortunate enough to have a REALLY good marriage! Thank you Scott!
Thanks for reading!
And here's a BIG good-bye from the girls.
I've been working with Jack and Jemma to see if there is some way to get some more of the little wooden elephants carved by the mahouts in case anyone here would like one. We still haven't learned whether that's feasible. I thought it would be good to sell some to people here so that the mahouts could make some extra money and the Project could have a little emergency fund too. Jack told me how they were offered an elephant for $7500--apparently not a bad price for an elephant--but they didn't happen to have that much on hand at the time. Shortly later they learned that the elephant had died of neglect.
If any of you feel moved to help the Project, there is a place you can donate on their website, which is at http://www.elephantvalleyproject.org/
If anyone feels like they might to go to the Project and has any questions, please either email me or leave a question in the comments section of this blog, and I will answer them promptly.
Another thing I need to say is this: when I told one of my friends about this trip I was planning, and she learned that Scott was not going, she said "Oh, no, is something wrong with your marriage?" I was stunned to hear her ask that. Scott has been so unbelievably supportive of this whole thing, despite his very real reservations. I would never have had the nerve to go without his reassurance and devotion and selflessness. I once read that one sign of a good marriage is whether you find yourself able to do important things you would not have done on your own. This trip has taught me that I am fortunate enough to have a REALLY good marriage! Thank you Scott!
Thanks for reading!
And here's a BIG good-bye from the girls.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Miscellany Part 2
While going through the videos I took, I found this one of Buffy trying to steal sugar cane from Easy. Sugar cane is a rare treat for the Big Four, and they love it! Each elephant had been given a piece the size of a piece of firewood, and Buffy, having finished hers first, thought she'd help herself to Easy's. Easy declined to share, however, so Buffy had to make do with a multiple-itch scratch.
One day when Meagan and I were out with the mahouts and the Big Four, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of what appeared to be a tiny brightly colored whirling umbrella. I thought it was either: A. An alien spaceship on a mission to the elephants of Mondulkiri; B. A hummingbird, or: C. A hallucination resulting from dehydration or something or other. Wrong on all counts! Here is the photo Meagan got of it. Wish we could have gotten a shot of it while it was in flight.
A world class bug!
And the last miscellaneous photo I'd like to show you is something that arrived at home the day I got back. It was from my dear friends The Inalienables welcoming me back from my huge adventure!
One day when Meagan and I were out with the mahouts and the Big Four, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of what appeared to be a tiny brightly colored whirling umbrella. I thought it was either: A. An alien spaceship on a mission to the elephants of Mondulkiri; B. A hummingbird, or: C. A hallucination resulting from dehydration or something or other. Wrong on all counts! Here is the photo Meagan got of it. Wish we could have gotten a shot of it while it was in flight.
A world class bug!
And the last miscellaneous photo I'd like to show you is something that arrived at home the day I got back. It was from my dear friends The Inalienables welcoming me back from my huge adventure!
Just one more blog entry after this!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Miscellany
It's hard for me to end this thing. I've so enjoyed remembering the details of the trip, and I think this blog will make those memories clearer and longer-lasting that any I've acquired in other trips. And those of you who have been reading along, and especially those of you who have been commenting, Lynn and Marc and Kathy, have really enhanced the pleasure I've gotten from this blog! Thank you so very much!
So. When I review my photo album, I find several pictures that somehow didn't fit into previous blogs, so I going to post them not, even if they don't fit into any particular chronology. Here goes:
This is the genocide museum at the Killing Fields. I thought this tree was so beautiful it almost neutralized some of the horror.
What is there about those who commit genocide that makes them such meticulous record-keepers? Wouldn't you think you'd want to destroy all the records? What on earth could make you think you'd be well-thought-of by the future?
But no, the Khmer Rouge kept incredibly detailed records of all the people they arrested, tortured, and killed--mostly all the well-educated people of the country, doctors, engineers, lawyers, writers, journalists--roughly 1/4 of the population. The records they kept included photographs, of which these are some.
Apparently when the Vietnamese finally rid the country of the Pol Pot regime, the bodies of people who had been tortured to death were found at the downtown prison named S-21. Photos of the victims were displayed in the very rooms the bodies were found in, together with some of the devices of torture used.
These lovely little Buddhist shrines are all over the country, complete with little incense sticks for passers-by to use to pay their respects.
But this one, right on the grounds of S-21 seemed TOO ironic for my tastes.
There were an awful lot of beautiful temples and palaces in Phnom Penh. I wish I could tell you more about them, but I was too hot to do anything more than take a picture.
Jemma was JUST telling me to look out for this type of plant when I slipped on the clay and reached out to catch myself on--you guessed it--one of these! Can you SEE the size of the thorns on this tree? Stuck my thumb good and hard and gave me a use for some of that terrific antibiotic cream I'd brought.
This sign at the Elephant Valley Project says everything that needs to be said. This photo, by the way, was taken by Jill.
Even sad-eyed Happy Lucky looked content when she got to eat banana leaves. In the background you can see the sign marking the sometimes impassable driveway into the Elephant Valley Project.
You met Granny at the wedding. Well, this was the little house at the Project she had. She watched the little kids who are children of the mahouts and the other staff. Every time you'd walk by, the kids would shout "Hello! Hello!" and "Bye-bye! Bye-bye" interchangeably. Even so, their English was incomparably better than my Bunong. This is a pretty typical Bunong home.
More later!
So. When I review my photo album, I find several pictures that somehow didn't fit into previous blogs, so I going to post them not, even if they don't fit into any particular chronology. Here goes:
This is the genocide museum at the Killing Fields. I thought this tree was so beautiful it almost neutralized some of the horror.
But no, the Khmer Rouge kept incredibly detailed records of all the people they arrested, tortured, and killed--mostly all the well-educated people of the country, doctors, engineers, lawyers, writers, journalists--roughly 1/4 of the population. The records they kept included photographs, of which these are some.
Apparently when the Vietnamese finally rid the country of the Pol Pot regime, the bodies of people who had been tortured to death were found at the downtown prison named S-21. Photos of the victims were displayed in the very rooms the bodies were found in, together with some of the devices of torture used.
These lovely little Buddhist shrines are all over the country, complete with little incense sticks for passers-by to use to pay their respects.
But this one, right on the grounds of S-21 seemed TOO ironic for my tastes.
There were an awful lot of beautiful temples and palaces in Phnom Penh. I wish I could tell you more about them, but I was too hot to do anything more than take a picture.
Jemma was JUST telling me to look out for this type of plant when I slipped on the clay and reached out to catch myself on--you guessed it--one of these! Can you SEE the size of the thorns on this tree? Stuck my thumb good and hard and gave me a use for some of that terrific antibiotic cream I'd brought.
This sign at the Elephant Valley Project says everything that needs to be said. This photo, by the way, was taken by Jill.
Even sad-eyed Happy Lucky looked content when she got to eat banana leaves. In the background you can see the sign marking the sometimes impassable driveway into the Elephant Valley Project.
You met Granny at the wedding. Well, this was the little house at the Project she had. She watched the little kids who are children of the mahouts and the other staff. Every time you'd walk by, the kids would shout "Hello! Hello!" and "Bye-bye! Bye-bye" interchangeably. Even so, their English was incomparably better than my Bunong. This is a pretty typical Bunong home.
More later!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Counting the cats in Zanzibar
Not quite home yet! I spent a nice evening exhausting Kurt and Wendy with elephant stories and then slept for a couple of hours and woke up all wide-eyed and raring to go. Waited until after breakfast, though, and then had the 5 and 1/2 hour drive home ahead of me. It gave me ample time to think about what had just happened and whether it had been a valuable thing to do.
I remembered what Thoreau said about it's not being worth the while to travel around the world to count the cats in Zanzibar, and how I used to think he was right. Clearly there are many many wonderful experiences to be had in one's back yard (even if it ISN'T Walden Pond), and the wonder needs only to be cultivated and nurtured.
I'm pretty sure Henry David would have disapproved of this trip of mine. Not only are there plenty of experiences to be savored in MY back yard--which is, after all, a jewel among back yards--but there are also lots of suffering animals, lots of people struggling to scratch out a living, and loads of problems awaiting attention close to home. It's true: I did not NEED to go looking for problems as far off as remote Cambodia.
Yet, I thought the trip provided amazing value. For example, I felt so . . . . . well. ALIVE. As the current cliche goes, I had gone out--WAY out--of my comfort zone. With having virtually NO familiar sights around me, I was always hyper-aware. Maybe even a bit scared.
You know how sometimes you will settle into a routine, and eat an ordinary meal, watch the news, look at the paper and realize some minutes later that you can't remember WHAT you ate, how it tasted, what was on the news, what you read? You simply FORGOT what JUST happened!
Maybe it SHOULDN'T be that way, but at least for me, it sometimes just is. I start to take life for granted. This trip was a real jolt to my system, and I hope I can carry the lesson with me. Life must NOT be taken for granted. ALL experiences, large AND small, should be savored and appreciated.
I was so eager to get home. It was so good to see Scott's smiling face and Emma's wagging tail and hear Aramis's shrieks of delight. Our house and the river and the marsh. And I think I saw it all the more clearly and distinctly because of what I saw in Cambodia.
Were those the ONLY thoughts I could scrounge up? Of COURSE not! Don't go away! I'll be back!
Oh, and by the way, here's how a REAL writer talks about the value of travel: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/30/opinion/brooks-the-haimish-line.html?_r=4&partner=rss&emc=rss
I remembered what Thoreau said about it's not being worth the while to travel around the world to count the cats in Zanzibar, and how I used to think he was right. Clearly there are many many wonderful experiences to be had in one's back yard (even if it ISN'T Walden Pond), and the wonder needs only to be cultivated and nurtured.
I'm pretty sure Henry David would have disapproved of this trip of mine. Not only are there plenty of experiences to be savored in MY back yard--which is, after all, a jewel among back yards--but there are also lots of suffering animals, lots of people struggling to scratch out a living, and loads of problems awaiting attention close to home. It's true: I did not NEED to go looking for problems as far off as remote Cambodia.
Yet, I thought the trip provided amazing value. For example, I felt so . . . . . well. ALIVE. As the current cliche goes, I had gone out--WAY out--of my comfort zone. With having virtually NO familiar sights around me, I was always hyper-aware. Maybe even a bit scared.
You know how sometimes you will settle into a routine, and eat an ordinary meal, watch the news, look at the paper and realize some minutes later that you can't remember WHAT you ate, how it tasted, what was on the news, what you read? You simply FORGOT what JUST happened!
Maybe it SHOULDN'T be that way, but at least for me, it sometimes just is. I start to take life for granted. This trip was a real jolt to my system, and I hope I can carry the lesson with me. Life must NOT be taken for granted. ALL experiences, large AND small, should be savored and appreciated.
I was so eager to get home. It was so good to see Scott's smiling face and Emma's wagging tail and hear Aramis's shrieks of delight. Our house and the river and the marsh. And I think I saw it all the more clearly and distinctly because of what I saw in Cambodia.
Were those the ONLY thoughts I could scrounge up? Of COURSE not! Don't go away! I'll be back!
Oh, and by the way, here's how a REAL writer talks about the value of travel: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/30/opinion/brooks-the-haimish-line.html?_r=4&partner=rss&emc=rss
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The last leg
My seatmates from Seoul to Chicago were not at all scary. They were in fact very nice people--a mother and daughter duo from St. Louis who had been in Korea visiting another daughter who was teaching there. We all dozed off and on, ate off and on, chatted off and on, and watched movies off and on. We took a decidedly different route back than we had going over--MUCH further south and this time over some ocean. It was dark most of the way though. I was so disoriented as to time. I'd never had to change my watch, since there is exactly 12 hours difference between Cambodia and home, but I couldn't have told you WHAT time is was along the way.
The trip was blandly smooth and uneventful. Did we arrive in Chicago on time? Of COURSE we arrived in Chicago on time. This was Korean Air Lines, and no delays are tolerated.
I was a little nervous about going through customs. I hadn't spent much at all so wasn't worried about duties, but I WAS worried about my little hand-carved elephants, the coffee I'd bought in Mondulkiri, and the mucky red clay on my shoes. We'd been informed during the flight that we had to go through a special gate if we'd been in an agricultural area and/or had any agricultural products, and after about two hours of deliberation, I decided I HAD been in an agricultural area and that I did in fact have some agricultural products.
Chicago looked great to me! I was particularly impressed with the cheerful nature of the people at Customs. The guy checked my passport and said "Hey! Did you have fun in Cambodia?" [For you cynics out there, yes, this WAS Chicago!] This was a reassuring difference from the Cambodian guy's demanding MORE!
I noticed--as I probably wouldn't have noticed a month earlier--that even the luggage carriers were friendly and chatty and kidded the incoming travellers about what they had in their bags. Seemed like a really friendly place, and I found myself most appreciative.
At the agricultural stop, the official said "Did you work around farm animals?" and I said "Well, elephants," and he said "ELEPHANTS!" and merrily waved me through. I thought I had more official stops to make, but I walked through a door and there was KURT! My oh-so-kind brother-in-law coming to pick me up. The first familiar face I'd seen for nearly 3 weeks. I was home.
The trip was blandly smooth and uneventful. Did we arrive in Chicago on time? Of COURSE we arrived in Chicago on time. This was Korean Air Lines, and no delays are tolerated.
I was a little nervous about going through customs. I hadn't spent much at all so wasn't worried about duties, but I WAS worried about my little hand-carved elephants, the coffee I'd bought in Mondulkiri, and the mucky red clay on my shoes. We'd been informed during the flight that we had to go through a special gate if we'd been in an agricultural area and/or had any agricultural products, and after about two hours of deliberation, I decided I HAD been in an agricultural area and that I did in fact have some agricultural products.
Chicago looked great to me! I was particularly impressed with the cheerful nature of the people at Customs. The guy checked my passport and said "Hey! Did you have fun in Cambodia?" [For you cynics out there, yes, this WAS Chicago!] This was a reassuring difference from the Cambodian guy's demanding MORE!
I noticed--as I probably wouldn't have noticed a month earlier--that even the luggage carriers were friendly and chatty and kidded the incoming travellers about what they had in their bags. Seemed like a really friendly place, and I found myself most appreciative.
At the agricultural stop, the official said "Did you work around farm animals?" and I said "Well, elephants," and he said "ELEPHANTS!" and merrily waved me through. I thought I had more official stops to make, but I walked through a door and there was KURT! My oh-so-kind brother-in-law coming to pick me up. The first familiar face I'd seen for nearly 3 weeks. I was home.
It's a long road home
The light show finished with a grand finale featuring the 1812 Overture. I reluctantly packed my bags, settled up my bill, and met my tuk tuk driver, who was the very same gentleman who'd picked me up from the airport and the next day took me on the tour of Phnom Penh! That seemed like ages ago to me, but apparently not to him, because he greeted me by name with the utmost friendliness.
We drove through the darkened streets to the airport, and I savored the sights and the night air for about a half hour until we arrived at the airport. I'd worried that there might be some complications leaving because of that guy who kept demanding "MORE!" when I'd come through customs, but as Jack would say, "no worries." I checked in as quickly and uneventfully as if it had been Rhinelander.
I did a little snooping around the airport shops, made a couple of small purchases, and my flight loaded and took off precisely on time, just as I had come to expect from Korean Air Lines.
The woman seated next to my right was SO irritable, SO jumpy, and SO agitated she was scary. I mean scary as in "Is she planning to blow up the plane?" scary. That was a mystery that went unsolved, though, and I was consoled by my other seatmate Juliet, who LIVES in Phnom Penh, is doing missionary work there, and was going home to Utah briefly for her daughter's wedding. She was great company, and since neither of us could sleep, that was a good thing.
We arrived in Seoul without blowing up, and I resigned myself to the tedium of a 12-hour layover. Juliet's flight left much earlier than mine, so we had a leisurely breakfast and then I helped her schlep all her carry-on stuff to her gate. I was rewarded by her letting me use her netbook to actually Skype with Scott. Scott showed me Aramis, live and lively, and I got acutely homesick.
I suppose interesting airports are rare, but let me assure you that Seoul's is not one of them, unless you happen to like to shop EXTREMELY high end shops--like Hermes and Chanel and so on and so on. It seemed horribly excessive to me after Cambodia, and I didn't like it one bit. I even indulged myself in a little--OK, VERY little--joke that Seoul has no soul.
The weird thing was that in the midst of all this blatant consumerism there'd be these little theatrical vignettes. People dressed up in traditional Korean costumes, pretending to be an ancient Korean court or something. Formal to the nth degree--beautiful costumes--well, I can't pretend I liked it after seeing it every hour upon the hour for-----let's see----- about 12 times.
After the interminable wait, my flight was finally called, precisely on time in fine Korean style, and I was headed for O'Hare sweet O'Hare.
We drove through the darkened streets to the airport, and I savored the sights and the night air for about a half hour until we arrived at the airport. I'd worried that there might be some complications leaving because of that guy who kept demanding "MORE!" when I'd come through customs, but as Jack would say, "no worries." I checked in as quickly and uneventfully as if it had been Rhinelander.
I did a little snooping around the airport shops, made a couple of small purchases, and my flight loaded and took off precisely on time, just as I had come to expect from Korean Air Lines.
The woman seated next to my right was SO irritable, SO jumpy, and SO agitated she was scary. I mean scary as in "Is she planning to blow up the plane?" scary. That was a mystery that went unsolved, though, and I was consoled by my other seatmate Juliet, who LIVES in Phnom Penh, is doing missionary work there, and was going home to Utah briefly for her daughter's wedding. She was great company, and since neither of us could sleep, that was a good thing.
We arrived in Seoul without blowing up, and I resigned myself to the tedium of a 12-hour layover. Juliet's flight left much earlier than mine, so we had a leisurely breakfast and then I helped her schlep all her carry-on stuff to her gate. I was rewarded by her letting me use her netbook to actually Skype with Scott. Scott showed me Aramis, live and lively, and I got acutely homesick.
I suppose interesting airports are rare, but let me assure you that Seoul's is not one of them, unless you happen to like to shop EXTREMELY high end shops--like Hermes and Chanel and so on and so on. It seemed horribly excessive to me after Cambodia, and I didn't like it one bit. I even indulged myself in a little--OK, VERY little--joke that Seoul has no soul.
The weird thing was that in the midst of all this blatant consumerism there'd be these little theatrical vignettes. People dressed up in traditional Korean costumes, pretending to be an ancient Korean court or something. Formal to the nth degree--beautiful costumes--well, I can't pretend I liked it after seeing it every hour upon the hour for-----let's see----- about 12 times.
After the interminable wait, my flight was finally called, precisely on time in fine Korean style, and I was headed for O'Hare sweet O'Hare.
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