Mondulkiri – Today’s the day the elephant has her picnic
I had my first ride in a pick-up on the way to Mondulkiri. These are big 4×4 monster trucks (well, the ones that ply this route are anyway – any other vehicle just can’t cope with the shockingly bad roads), that get piled high with people and packages, and only leave when they are seriously, dangerously full. You see about 20 people piled on top of the goods at the back, people on the roof – my word do they jam ’em in tight over here. I wimped out and bought a seat inside the cabin, and I ended up with the swish front seat all to myself – a rare treat over here. Although at times I wished I couldn’t see so clearly out of the windscreen – Cambodian roads take no prisoners.
Mondulkiri province is unlike anywhere else I’ve seen in Cambodia. Usually the landscape here is quite flat, but Mondulkiri looks for all the world like Wales, say, or the Lake District – lots of rolling hills, greenery, and bucket loads of rain. It rained pretty much non-stop from the time I got there to the time I left, so everything was sodden and damp. Lovely. Still, my enthusiasm couldn’t be dampened, because as soon as I got to the Long Vibol guest house, I booked an elephant trek for the next day. I love these animals, and spending a whole day with one was my idea of bliss.
I was up early, excited, with the air of a person whose time has come. The rain didn’t let up, so I gratefully nabbed yet another plastic poncho from the guesthouse (this time in lime green – I was une vision). My guide from the guesthouse, the lovely Sambol, would accompany me all day, and he drove me there on the mud-slippy roads. The treks start from a minority village. The Pnong minority group are based in Mondulkiri, and make up the majority of its inhabitants. It was fascinating to see how they live, and how different it is elsewhere. Most Cambodian houses are built up on stilts – to save against the rain, I guess, and to provide a shady area underneath for protection against the sun – but these people live in low huts, with about 14 people in each hut. Nor do they speak Khmer, but have their own language.
I was introduced to my elephant for the day, a lovely little lady called Rhum. She was older than me at 35, and I hoped this would make her more responsible, and less likely to stampede. I climbed up the steps, and, apologising to Rhum as I stepped on her neck (I’m not being cruel, it’s the only way to get on), clambered into the bamboo basket that had been strapped onto her back. Sambol climbed in after me, and I began to realise just how snug it was up there in the basket. No, actually, not snug, because that implies some element of comfort. I believe the word I’m looking for is squeeze.
Now, let me get this straight from the start. I loved Rhum, she was a star. But the ride was possibly the most uncomfortable experience of my entire life. And this is from a girl who regularly throws herself of bikes, breaks toes on stone hearthstones, falls down stairs – you get the picture. Imagine, if you will, being in a bamboo basket that any which way you move bangs into your body. The basket is too small to sit properly, and so your legs are hunched up in an uncomfortable, not to mention unflattering, position. That’s bad enough. Throw in the movement of the elephant, and you’ve not exactly got a ride on the Orient Express. The movement is so strange. Sort of a figure of eight, but jerky, with side-to-side motions as well as up and down. So there I was, thrown about like an oscillating ocelot, all the while trying to take in the whole experience, and remembering vaguely seeing pictures of Queen Victoria prancing about on the back of an elephant. If she did – kudos to her, it ain’t a joy.
Bad enough on the flat, but, as I’d mentioned before, Mondulkiri is hilly. And the slopes are very, very steep indeed. So going down, you’re virtually vertical, pressing your feet against the front of the basket to stop yourself falling out, and going up, you’re hanging on to the front for dear life, all the time having the bamboo poke you in the back.
Oh, and Rhum – likes the food. Especially bamboo, but she isn’t all that fussy. So every few steps, she’d stop and eat. And stop and eat. And stop and eat. Often, while we were on a slope, so the agony of trying to keep in the basket was drawn out. The world is Rhum’s picnic basket, and she was determined to make the most of it. (Oh, and a word to the wise – if you’re ever near an elephant eating bamboo, don’t hang around at the back for too long – the noises that were coming from Rhum afterwards were none too pleasant)
I strangely enjoyed it, though. Not too sure I’d do it again, but I might convince myself over time that it can’t possibly be as bad as I remember. Despite the bruises, though, I’ve come away from it loving elephants even more than I did already – they’re gorgeous, peaceful animals who just happen to like the food. Next time I might just stay on the ground.
Tags: Cambodia, Travel
Suzanne
I’m sure you had your camera with you when Rhum was around……..looking forward to seeing her pic.
Love
Mum