August 26, 2017 – The Day After The Day of the Elephants

August 26, 2017 – The Day After The Day of the Elephants

I’m waiting for my iPhone to copy over my photos onto my laptop. It’s 8:16 am in Nusa Dua. The sun is up, it’s humid, but there’s a light breeze. I’m sitting on the communal balcony outside my vampire room and it’s… tranquil. There’s time travel internet access here at the hotel… there’s free wifi and I do have sprint international roaming on my phone but it seems like by the time I connect and get service it’s already hours later then when I first tried to log in. I think if I want to send something I need to have logged in three days ago. Maybe that’s not time travel, maybe it s a Paradox? I’m not sure… but images are especially slow to load on websites and in uploading to runkevinrun.com. As a result, there may be more text heavy posts for the foreseeable future.

After the whirlwind of yesterday, from traveling, pulling an Exorcistian Father Karras on the stairs in China, “lated planes” to Bali, and a short nap into a more than half day tour, I’m a bit discombobulated… and not just because it’s 12 hours in the future from the east coast
USA.

I’m just about headed to the packet pickup for the marathon tomorrow. It’s going to be a low key exploratory and chill Bali adventure. I should probably book another tour for Monday but I figure I’ll ask at the expo what sorts of deals/offerings are available. Besides, to book something on my phone’s internet connection I’d have to have started the process days ago.

But first I wanted to take a few moments to recap out some of the events of the twelve point fives hour tour yesterday. The lovely Aussie couple on holiday from Perth told me their taxi driver upon arrival was a real character and had dreams of being the next Mario Andretti. When they asked what the rules of the road were in Bali, he replied, “you just drive!” That turned out not to be just one man’s opinion… it seems to be the actual rules of the road here. Lanes are fluid, scooters are abundant, and have biking horns mean everything from, “hey, I’m here, just FYI!” To “seriously dude, get out of the freakin’ way.” Close calls are de rigueur and as a single guest I was in the front seat so couples could sit together in the back. I literally had a front row seat on a careening roller coaster.

We picked up another couple closer to the safari park who were from the U.K. They were truly on Bali island time and throughout the day the Aussies and. I were always prompt at meeting up and the U.K. Folks were a nonchalant about times; they were lovely and by the end of the day I think I understood that they had embraced the Asian island nation mindset. They had been here the longest so maybe in a few days I’ll be the same.

We got an overview of the itinerary at the safari park but much like the rules of the road, it was also very fluid and amorphous, we were a little late to the party so I always felt we had just missed the explanations from the guides in what to do and how to do it.

Feeding the elephants and washing them felt a bit more like a photo opp than proper care for an elephant. Their hides were both coarse and yet soothing to the touch. As we all took turns scrubbing them down and posing for photos, this pachyderms were ever super clean because of our combined continued efforts or in desperate need for expert help since we were incredibly ineffectual. Still, super cool to meet them like that.

Afterwards, we swam with the elephants in a pond of water that I’m pretty sure was one of the dirtiest bodies of water I’ve been in, save perhaps for the Jersey Shore (hey-yo!). This is where the organizational process broke down. We would be in some semblance of a line and the other people would just muscle in and get aboard a bathing elephant. I had flashbacks to the Tokyo Disneyland photo opportunities that were just group think chaos and you had to just get the attention of the character and shove aside children if you wanted a photo. My Mid West American upbringing had issues with that… and had them again here. After 45 minutes of near-elephant encounters I finally freaked out and went ugly American, Bart Simpson and corralled a guide to ask, “Where’s my elephant?!” I’m not proud of it… but sadly I was like too many others in this world rewarded for my temper tantrum and climbing on top of an elephant shortly thereafter.

I don’t think I was properly told how to hold on as when the elephant dove and submerged, I wold occasionally grab onto the roamed around her neck and I think that was unpleasant for her. It was only towards the end of the experience that I realized this and I was supposed to be kids hugging onto her head a la Falkor from The NeverEnding Story. I hope I didn’t hurt her. There was all kinds of discussions about the freedom and treatment of the elephants, proud proclamations that ethics was not a zoo but a preserve. I want to believe that. There were something like 250 employees at the park for the 31 elephants. The place was well maintained and elephants could wander about for the most part farther afield fro us, only a few at a tie tasked with entertaining the tourists at any given time. Still, when an elephant show later in the day featured a parade of pachyderms playing harmonicas I have to question whether or not there is a little bit of a price these elephants pay for their sanctuary.

A quick breakfast and then it was onto an elephant ride. Here I met Noki from Sumatra and her friend/minder Alex. Alex said he’d been with Noki for twenty years, the last sixteen of them here in Bali. She was like a second wife to him, maybe a first wife, but his wife and two kids (7 and 1.5) were here with him but he was almost always working and didn’t get to see them as much as Noki. He was a big Obama fan so we had a lot to chat about as we lumbered through the circuit.

Noki is a 30 year old elephant and always hungry (she loves bananas). We caused a few backups on the elephant highway and Alex would pull off to the side so others could pass. I didn’t mind; how often does one get to just chill on the side of the road atop an elephant? Apparently being nice to folks does sometimes pay off as later on when I was getting ready to leave, Alex called me over and took a bunch of stellar photos with me and Noki; other guests looked on enviously… hell, I was envious and I was the one getting the VIP experience because Alex and Noki seemed to like me. Alex said a lot of tourists don’t talk to him which I found ridiculous – of course you talk to the guides and the elephant! And one should always be nice. . Except I wasn’t as you’ll recall above. When I dismounted Noki at the end of the ride, the woman I had gone Bart Simpson on was there and I apologized. She smiled and I hope she knew I was sincere about feeling bad if i made her day worse when all I wanted to do was swim with an elephant.

A few fun facts from Alex gleaned from my ride on Noki:

  • Elephants eat 250 kilograms a day of food
  • The male elephants are much more aggressive; the park had 7 males and 24 females. The oldest was 51 years old, the youngest just four.
  • They only chain them in place when they feed them or when they’re sick- this is to ensure the other elephants don’t bully them and they can eat/get the care they need. I want to believe that.
  • Everything in means everything out – they poop four times an hour and each but if dun weighs 1 kg. While riding we passed the compost facility and it is fair to say I saw some serious shit.

  • A lot of celebs have visited the park and there are photos dotting the walls of the reception and museum. I regretted not taking some. Jessica Biel was here in 2901. Julia Roberts and her kid. Tony Blair rocking casual UK tourist attire. And most recently? Wilmer Valderrama whose credits on the photo were hilarious, I wondered if he specified it or if somebody in the office was tasked with doing it. David Copperfield’s photo simply said “illusionist” but Wilmer’s was like a paragraph, “TV personality famed for That 70s Show and From Dusk Til Dawn, currently starring in NCIS and The Ranch.” God, I should’ve taken a photo. But I was laughing too hard and it would’ve been blurry.

***

The white water rafting experience was something else. Most rafts were designed for four guests and a guide so I got put with a threesome. They were a family from Germany, albeit the mom was Welsh by birth. Her name was Debbie and her husband was Christian. Their son, Ben, was our raft captain so far as I was concerned. He kept calling the oar’s grip a mustache and ya know what? When you held it up to your nose it kinda looked like a ‘Stache.

The briefing was a mixed bag as not everyone spoke English. There were laminated informational brochures to help us all out. Basically the guide would tell us forward, backward or stop with regards to paddling. And then occasionally he’d tell us “boom” if we needed to hold on due to rapids or rocks… or he’d tell us “boom boom” if, I guess the best way to explain it is if shit was gonna get real. Basically there’d be a “boom boom” as we careened into rocks, water, or each other so seriously hold on… and duck down into the raft.

It was a long march down what somebody said were 498 stairs to the river below. I didn’t count though someone was until another loved one punched him in the arm and told him to stop. Whatever the number, it was a steep walk down and I had visions of Chinese step stunt work fresh on the brain.

I had also ditched my sneakers to keep them dry. Others had thongs/flip flops… and my raft guide graciously offered me his but I declined. Honestly, anytime I wear those things it’s worse than if I were in clown shoes. I stood a better chance of keeping my balance soleless.

The rafts themselves were sturdy but there was no question we would get wet… and not just wet but sitting in the blue seats at SeaWorld wet. As in Shamu would keep leaping and torrents of water would occasionally hit you. But other times it was calm and tranquil. Either way it turned out to be a lot of fun.

My one quibble is that the guides encouraged screwing with the guests… and goaded the guests to do the same to other boats. Lots of flung water from raft to raft, the occasionally attempt to ram a raft under a waterfall, even a prank fake snake attack from the side courtesy of a stray vine. Others seemed really into it; I just found it annoying as it inevitably happened just as I was trying to gawk at the majesty of the place we were rafting… and then … WHAMP. A paddle full of water would pelt me. Again, many others loved it so I’m the buzzkill. But seriously — shove off, ya bilge rats. I’m here to raft and enjoy.

I tested my waterproof pouch for my iPhone and it was a true trial by fire… er, water. It endured all kinds of rapids, paddles, and waterfalls with nary a drop of h20 inside the pouch. And for the most part, the camera took pretty great shots through the plastic. I figured if the phone could survive this it certainly could survive being in my pocket whilst running in the humidity.

Here then are an assortment of photos from the rafting trip… and a few videos I took to give a poorly shot POV VR approximation for ya.

 

 

 

***

There are all kinds of things I’m forgetting here. From the digital lockers at the rafting company, to the 498 or so steps back UP the hill after the rafting, a bit of exercise that left many huffing and puffing (including yours truly – and I was going to run a marathon in two days!). At the top of the hill we came out a block or two down a busy village street from the lockers and starting area. And then there was the woman at a roadside stand, just outside a Circle K, who tried to sell me a pair of thongs since I was barefoot. Too late, lady. I just did close to a thousand steps barefoot… I can make it another couple hundred feet to the locker room.

I’m not sure how to conclude this ret-con blog post. So how about a shot of the sunset from the car ride home?