Rumble in the Jungle

"Francine was right," I say through gritted teeth as the elephant gives another rumbling, horrifying growl under our precarious seat. Here I am doing something I've wanted to do ever since seeing an elephant giving rides on the beach in Hoi An, Vietnam, and I'm wondering if it was such a good idea.  Our tiny mahout perched on the elephant's neck calls back to a buddy at the elephant stalls, who comes over with a stack of broad leaves to thwack the elephant  (who I have nicknamed Cranky) with. Cranky no likey the thwacky, and tries to turn around to kill the offender.   The mahout uses his hook on the back of the elephant's ear, where I notice a roundish purple bruise and a bit of fresh blood and manages to keep us going the same direction as the rest of the elephants, who are whistling and skipping happily ahead with their passengers.  


K reaches down to pat Cranky's back.  'Don't do anything different!' I shriek sotto voce hoping our transportation won't notice. We are 'trekking' around the wall of an ersatz zoo - which sports some monkeys, tropical birds, baby tigers, and lots of crocodiles. This elephant has done the trek one too many times and is now protesting with trumpeting and a heart rattling growl. K is finding my fear amusing. Francine said it would be uncomfortable but she didn't say it could be deadly.


As Cranky shifts back and forth on the trail, K's leg comes uncomfortably close to the rusty barbed wire topping the zoo wall, and on my side palm trees loom bowel-wateringly-close. I remember something Francine said about the elephants trying to scrape you off using a tree.  I calculate rapidly: best case K falls inside the wall and only has to fend off baboons with his ripped up legs.  But I won't let that happen. I hold on tightly to his wrist with my right hand (the left has a vise grip on the chair contraption we are perched in). It's not that I'm being nice. I just want to make sure if I fall off he's coming with me to keep me from being stomped.


Maybe this elephant has a weight limit? I knew I shouldn't have had that extra waffle this morning. [K paid 200 baht (about $6.33) for the souvenir photo and if you can get past how startling white my legs are, you can see I was smiling - this was before Cranky started protesting the exploitation of animals.] 

Later, after Cranky stopped threatening to go down the ravine and we caught up with the other elephants (at least it was away from the barbed wire) the mahout dismounted Cranky and offered to take a photo with our cameras. I was nervous to be without a driver, so in this one you can see the fear- and adrenaline-inspired grin.  'I feel so alive!'  K even took the mahout's offer and climbed up on the beast's head. I was happy to finish off the trek alive and didn't move from my seat until we got back to the platform.

But for some reason I was tempted to wrangle with more wildlife.  But how could I resist?  Feeding a baby tiger? So darn cute!  And lots of other people did it.  We paid the 200 baht to take a photo with our own camera (300 baht with their camera).  I went into the little pen and the assistant dumped a baby tiger with a blue collar in my lap - he cuddled up sweetly sucking on the bottle of (tiger?) milk for about two seconds.  Then in a heartbeat (or should I say heartstop) the claws came out and he snarled viciously.  Assistant scooped him up quickly and dumped the one with a pink collar in my lap.  The girl was a little more docile, but again it made it hard to smile for the camera and say through my teeth 'take the picture, hurry!' 

The elephant, monkey, and crocodile shows went by afterwards without incident.  But for some reason I still felt a little bit tempted when they offered the chance to get a photo with the crocodiles....

Bargaining for dummies

Beijing - Although I want to convince myself that I enjoy shopping in local markets, I have yet to master the art of haggling. It feels too confrontational, and even after what feels like vigorous negotiations, I usually still feel ripped off. It doesn't help that I can't do currency conversions in my head and so am fooled by the initial 'for you my friend, only half price.' Of course the original price was 10 times a reasonable one. But if I can't imagine it in dollars I have a hard time getting past the 'play money' feeling.   

There's also the language challenge (which many savvy sellers now get around by using those oversized desk calculators to show the numbers), but I find some expressions to be universal. For example, the best sellers convey with a single lifted eyebrow: 'You have insulted my extended family and my ancestors with that offer' or 'So you want me to starve my children just so you can display this beautiful handmade matchstick elephant on your capitalist mantle.' But I can counter with the double raised eyebrows: 'Is this [carved bowl, basket, tea set] made of GOLD? That's a crazy price.'
 
Some vendors are more extravagant with their gestures. Before the holidays I went to the 'dirt/antique/saturday market' (a.k.a. Panjiahuan) and haggled over a 'traditonal' water basket. At my first offer (i went straight to the 1/10th price) the woman slapped herself in the face. At my next counteroffer she grabbed a pair of antique scissors and pantomimed drawing them across her throat. I felt like I got a great deal. Of course I will not be surprised when I find the same thing 50 percent off at the Pier1 in Ansley Mall. 
By the way, here's a trick I have used successfully although I often forget to prepare. Make sure you get some change to small bills before going to the market. Then put small amounts of money in different pockets (finally - the cargo pants make sense). This allows you the final trump of 'I guess I can't afford your lamp/carpet/authentic replica Chairman Mao socks - this is all the money I have.'