First: Tonsai, made of limestone cliffs, carved from wind and rain, graced by green jungle, tree frogs, by a still, clear ocean, became home for two weeks. Ethan spent his days climbing, foot to tiny ledge, arm out and reaching, traveling up and up and up. He is a strong climber, so infatuated with his sport, with the technique involved in scaling mountains. And I spent time with Dad, though it didn't go very well. Despite our best intentions, communication between us seemed to swell and gray, gathering a dark force that rivaled the monsoon clouds on the horizon. We became wind and rain, elements that only enhanced each other's unrest. Long story short, he left, after ten days, disappointed in me, eager to be on his own and focusing on his health in Bangkok. Following his departure, I spent most of my time walking along Tonsai's white-sand beach, processing, collecting seashells, sketching an ending to the book. It is, like our time together, a tumultuous and sad ending, but hopeful too. To clear my mind and focus on physical well being, I joined Ethan and climbed the cliffs that engulfed us (with far less grace then he, but with determination). I felt I worked through difficult emotions while climbing; I found courage and reassurance about my own strength and about my willpower, fuel that helped me to push past the experiences I had with my father. Climbers say, 'trust your feet, learn to rest, keep breathing,' advice that applies to many aspects of life. And the book? Well, it's shape shifting. I have a lot of feedback to work with. My ideas and relationship with it seem to be changing everyday...
We left Tonsai- as we arrived- by longtail, a slender boat which carried us away from the secluded southern valley. In Krabi town we sampled delicious, chili-infused treats at an open-air night market, pointing and guessing at the vats of curry, stew, grilled meats, fruit and sticky sweets displayed before us. We sucked on lemongrass leaves (which float in coconut curry soups), slurped red dragon fruit (kiwi-like and absolutely amazing), walking slowly, smelling the many flavors that mingled in the air... That night (our only night in Krabi) we also climbed 1,200 steps to a temple at the top of a mountain, "Tiger Cave Temple," and sat in awe of the limestone mountains that decorate the horizon. So unusual and so completely stunning.
Now, we have traveled north to Chiang Mai, to an old city filled with temples and open-air markets. We have been here for eight days - but today was by far the best. Today we fed, bathed and learned about Thai Asian Elephants at Elephant Nature Park (www.elephantnaturepark.org), a rehabilitation center and sanctuary for abused and mistreated elephants. Many of the elephants have lived through and endured the most terrible abuse (stepping on landmines, being drugged by logging companies so that they will work around the cloak, horribly overworked in the tourist industry). The Park was established by a hill-tribe woman named Lek, which means "small." Her heart, however, is larger than the creatures she serves. The elephants we met were wise and slow, powerful and peaceful. Though elephants are sacred, carved into the walls of each temple in Chiang Mai, they are, in reality, totally mistreated. People like Lek give me hope for the domesticated elephants in this country. Her elephants have persevered and, somehow, have learned to trust humans again. We watched them (many scared, wounded, blind, with broken hips or legs), swimming in the river that cuts through the sanctuary, resilient, floating, weightless and oh-so playful. We fed them copious amounts of food: green bananas for the ones with parasites or overactive hormones, pumpkin and yellow banana for the rest. Though there was great sadness in this day, in the elephants themselves and in their strange and contradictory situation in this life, there was also so much beauty.
I wish I knew how to tie this disjointed entry together, but I don't. I'm just glad to be sharing, writing about the many experiences this journey has enabled. ... Thank you, for reading, listening, and being patient with this sporadically updated blog. Sending so much love, and a big, wet elephant kiss, from Chiang Mai.
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