I love elephants and had always assumed that wannabe Instagram models from Sweden or its cultural-geographical ilk, places rich and European and where everything, excepting winter’s nights, is pale, were the only tourists Eat-Pray-Loving their endless vacation days or decade-long gap years away amongst those magnificent beasts here in the north of Thailand. And sure, I’ve heard a decent amount of French spoken (indeed, I encountered a group of French tourists in the throes of being thrown out of Wat Phra Singh Woramahawihan for, to quote the enraged (though very friendly to me) ticket taker, “disrespecting the temple!” He subsequently let them in for 2000 baht each, around $60. I paid less than $2) but, for the most part, I’ve heard what my ignorant self, clued contextually, has presumed to be Thai.
But back to the elephants. I’ve seen none! Well: no living, breathing, walking versions of those quadrupeds. Stone, gold, and glass varieties, however, I have encountered.
Stone: as glorious statues flanking Wat Chedi Luang.
Gold: as somewhat less glorious, almost laughing little cuties emerging from the aforementioned Phra Singh Woramahawihan temple.
Glass: on the bottles of Chang lager often found beside bowls of khao soi (a dish which many of the wonderful restaurateurs and purveyors of Thai cuisine here take pains to ensure their patrons understand, before stuffily quitting their sometimes-walled establishments, is a classic Thai dish and that, indeed, much like the new British prime minister, proudly asserts its northerliness. And yet: I find myself offended that these same, elsewise lovely individuals (I did encounter one real mean woman in a red-fringed apron slinging the soup from the slopy side of a mountain but let’s leave her to her apparently very bad day) assume I’ve never heard of khao soi.)
As I reflect, however, perhaps their assumption sweatily arrives, elephantine, well-grounded: it wasn’t until I’d booked my flights that I realized the only place I’d ever seen in Thailand was Bangkok, a city about which, I’d’ve professed even then, I knew little. And besides my grey assumption (only partially correct) of Scandis toting unripe oversized sponges and camera-stabilizing gadgets bought cheap on a day trip to Shenzhen, while blondely scooting across town looking for the stray elephant to bathe, to cleanse, I knew nothing about Chiang Mai. I still know essentially nothing! About… basically everything! How liberating!
I do know I love elephants. And frogs. And that I prefer krapow to khao soi.
