Motorbike Night

Time speeds by like a motorbike in the night. Light cycles passing through the dark, streaking the city and racing on. No rearview, no problem. There’s nothing there you haven’t seen before.

My internship with Elephant Nature Foundation is passing quickly. From the first moments after arrival, driven to my new apartment home, to today, typing in the Old City office, every experience is folded into the ongoing mélange of me. I can’t yet fathom who I will be in the end, but I also can’t wait to see.

My first days at the Elephant Nature Park were best punctuated in exclamation: Elephants! Activists! Forest Valley! Everything there amazed me and each day greeted my wider eyes with new surprises. I photographed incredible animals with the patron saint of Asian elephant protection. I worked for a wonderful cause with passionate volunteers from all over the world. I gained a better understanding of ecotourism operations, both the visitor expectations and the organization’s responsibility. From these experiences, working and learning with the near ubiquitous elephants, came the jolt to supercharge my passion and energy for the cause. Even in difficult times since, my resolve has yet to waiver.

Elephant Nature Foundations’s Chiang Mai office is equal parts menagerie and all in one organizational headquarters. It’s an air - conditioned sanctuary, with sleek white floors, newish desks of light brown wood, and clean glass windows surrounding its perimeter. A cat, dogs, and a Brazilian chicken roam the main area, surprising and delighting most who step through the glass doors. For the amount of strangers walking into their home, the animals are usually well - behaved. All come from the streets or abusive pasts and, watching them frolic around the office, one gets the sense they were always meant to be here. And, like gears in a clock, they fit with the staff to keep the office ticking along.

Every one working in the ENF headquarters has a unique rhythm and energy. Forms and emails fly around, desk top projections of the work supporting the passion. There are no elephant rescues, international volunteer groups, or conservation efforts without the people here; glamour and mass appeal come from paperwork, accounting, outreach, and fundraising. Being where the cameras stop and volunteers depart, behind the scenes and set pieces, is more difficult than working at the Park. Staring at a computer screen and typing documents for hours can be utterly mind - numbing; the crash after an unbelievable high. But yet, one can’t look away from this work. With ENF, the projects and elephants are actors and the staff is cast and crew. We give life to the foundation's workings, stand behind the curtains, and watch as something bigger than any individual emerges to move hearts and call its audience to action.

Lek is our auteur: planning and performing every movement. Viewers need to see her romping with the elephants as much as we need her artistic acumen to ensure the show goes on. Whether desk bound and typing to grow her foundation or park based and playing to raise spirits, she’s inspiring. Her mission isn’t easy, but she’s chosen to accept it. Chosen to give every ounce of her being to a species lumbering towards extinction. An average elephant family needs over ten thousand acres of intact habitat to survive; the population numbers and available wild habitat can’t currently sustain the species. Even as an umbrella species, they might not weather this deluge.

In this work, such downer thoughts must enter only momentarily. When it comes to Asian elephants and their endangered ilk, it’s easier to lose your determination than to keep going. Everything worth doing is worth a fight though, and any amount of typing that fight entails is well worth sitting through. I always leave the office with much to contemplate, and the feeling there’s more to be done.

When the night comes, I explore the city. I’ve been on the motorbikes, cutting through the streetlight and darkness. It’s astride a speeding bike I gain clarity: hopelessness is letting go. It’s getting crushed by time or, worse, watching it pass. The most difficult situations ask you to have hope, hold on, and drive forward; to race towards an uncertain destination. To give the journey everything you’ve got, and appreciate wherever it takes you.

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/motorbike-nights

Fight the Foam

A golden stupa shines in the steam rising from the food carts surrounding it. Hungry shoppers surround the carts, taking hot pad thai, kabobs, and curries away in what look like Styrofoam containers. Plastic cups filled with fresh fruit smoothies, a divine treat for less than a dollar, and bottled water hydrate the starving masses. Hundreds of people, piles of Styrofoam in the trash, plastics galore; an environmental nightmare come true. Or, at least, it was. A banner hangs between trees, illuminated by the waning sunlight: No Foam For Food is printed in big green letters. Below it reads in Thai but a nearby picture, a Styrofoam bowl with a devil's tail and a red X cutting through, says all that’s necessary.

Chiang Mai’s Sunday Walking Street is one of the city’s premier attractions: from 5 P.M. to around 11 every Sunday, hundreds of local merchants set up shop on Ratchadamnoen Road, bringing hordes of eager shoppers to the old city street. With all the commotion surrounding the market, not to mention the foreigners richly disposal income, local food vendors also set up shop around temple Phun Ohn to feed the masses. Known for the quality of their food and work anywhere mentality, these family stands offer traditional, amazing Thai dishes at unbelievable prices. They also create a tragic amount of trash: local film production and advocacy group Muang Muang discovered that each month, the Walking Street food vendors generate over 24,000 pieces of Styrofoam waste. Calculate the life span of each piece at around five thousand years and you have an event who’s footprint remains on the landscape long after the shoppers have gone home. To reduce this impact, Muang Muang formed an alliance with Wat Phun Ohn and created the No Foam for Food project, a public campaign aimed at eliminating foam waste and implementing a recycling system in the Walking Street food areas. Their action is a stirring example of modern environmentalism in the midst of tradition and tourism.

Not far from the food carts, near the tables and trees guarding them, stands the Walking Street recycling area. As a large fenced box surrounded by bins, all labeled with colorful signs, this area stands in contrast to the laissez – faire attitude much of the city has towards recycling: throw your plastics and cans away, the homeless / destitute will sort it later for money. By making efficient recycling available near the food, No Foam for Food has made the Wat Phun Ohn eating area a mix of ancient and modern. Couple this busy green scene with bio chan - aoy containers, a completely biodegradable styro – substitute now required at the nearby eateries, and you’ve got a temple that has survived the ages surrounded by an enterprise that won’t damage the future.

Muang Muang has their sights set on expanding No Foam for Food to the entire Walking Street. Banners popping up around other eating areas on Ratchadamnoen tell of their ambition and drive. It’s the Walking Street of today, strolling into a greener tomorrow.

*For more information on No Foam for Food check out them out on Facebook or on their website at: http://nofoam.org/Home/nofoam_Poster.html

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/fight-the-foam

A Timeless Calm

City streets swirl and pulse all around, the circulatory system of a place that never sleeps. In this temple, above the fray, a feeling of peace settles past the food and trinket pushers. Stairs of stone, numerous and strong, are flanked by dragons stretching their spines; pilgrims, both local and foreign, move between these spiritual vanguards. To reach the top is to feel complete in the present, wanting and daydreaming elude those surrounded by immemorial treasures. I can breathe here in this moment; I could live here in this feeling. My mind as clear as the blue sky, my heart as full as the ocean. The result of nothing bought or sold, but temples built from faith, centuries old. They line the path to enlightenment but stop short of giving it away. Only the dedicated can take the final steps on this journey and find the wisdom to rise above the inner battle of the mind.

One could, as many have, write volumes on the temples of Thailand. Even as their plaques preach impermanence, each temple stands boldly against the tides of time. A city, the second largest in a country of sixty four million people, has grown around temples like Wat Umong, Wat Chedi Luang and Wat Pra Singh. Neon lights and dance clubs, expats and ladyboys, motorbikes and tuk tuks: modernity didn’t forget Chiang Mai. And yet, these bastions of faith stand no worse for the urban development all around. It’s as if the bustling city of today were always built with the temples in mind: the silence and contemplation they offer is never far when the frantic streets wear one down. In the sanctum of a city’s holiest space, time passes like wind over an open plain. Any mental barriers blocking peace are swept away, things that felt so important and unwieldy throughout the day are revealed utterly inconsequential when one moves inside.

It’s amazing how many things are secretly carried through customs when one goes abroad. Somehow, crossing an ocean isn’t enough to ditch your inadequacies. I naively expected my insecurity, penchant for melodrama, easily broken focus, etc. etc. to melt away as I stepped off the plane. I believed a change of scenery could significantly change the man inside. To improve oneself takes dedication, plain and simple, and no amount of miles or shifted scenes can make it any easier. In the temples, I feel progress though. I feel my mind part like the Red Sea, with the deeper, resplendent parts exposed. If any seismic inner shifts occur on this trip, it will be the result of time in this space. A month has passed here and for all the city and sights still left to see, I want to spend more moments sitting. Breathing. Thinking. Seeing more feels like less when my mind is scattered over the horizon. I want to be here, now. Present moment, wonderful moment.

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/temples-of-chiang-mai-1

A Volunteer Week Photo Story

The Elephant Nature Park volunteer program is an unforgettable experience I wholeheartedly recommend to anyone traveling in Thailand. Volunteers pay to spend one week at the Park, working in the mornings and afternoon to support their operations and the elephants. Throughout the week, they are given many opportunities to closely interact with the park’s animals as they roam, eat, and bath. To live in this place and be so near to one of Thailand’s most sacred animals is to find a level of nirvana: peace surrounds you in even the most menial tasks. When a large group of international volunteers can shovel elephant shit with smiles on their faces, for the third time, you know their experience has been special. The connection we all shared to the work and to each other by the week's end was electric, and I hope to remain in contact with many of my fellow group members. In lieu of a full - length blog post, I have created a photo story with pics from my week. Each is captioned to provide more information about the work of Elephant Nature Foundation and the Elephant Nature Park volunteer program. Check it out at:

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/my-volunteer-week-at-the-enp

Bigger than the Moment

Saying elephants are large animals is like saying the sun is bright: even though you’re explicitly stating the obvious, sometimes it just slips out. Though I mixed it up with synonyms, I must’ve said, “Elephants are so [insert word for big]!” several times during my first stay at the Elephant Nature Park. Being near these animals in person, rather than at a zoo managed distance, makes one forget things like diction. Elephants are simply too interesting and strange to focus on anything else.

As tall as a one story house and as wide as a car, elephants are awesome in the truest, awe - involved sense of the word. They move like lumbering, stiff legged horses much of the time, sauntering around their environment and foraging for the tastiest grasses. When they’re upset or a baby feels threatened, they can kick into overdrive and achieve an unlikely gait approaching 25 kilometers per hour. These instances are rare here though, the elephants at the Park are remarkably well adjusted considering their pasts: outside of the calves, all were rescued from terrible lives. From being forced to work terrible hours in urban environments and illegal logging operations to enduring extreme physical abuse in breeding operations, their back story’s read like soap opera tragedies. Though the park can’t offer them a return to the wild, it guarantees a much better life than anything they’ve known before. As a result, one could easily spend days watching the elephants eat, amble, and interact; there’s a tranquility to this place that begs long, meditative viewing sessions.

The park sits in an open part of the lush Mae Taeng valley, with a river and the forested mountains of Northern Thailand surrounding it. Sunlight beamed through the trees and cloudless blue sky during my stay, revealing a gorgeous panorama begging to be a trademarked e - wallpaper. Though elephants would naturally choose more forested areas like the mountains themselves, the park’s herd doesn’t seem to mind the change of scenery. Through the Elephant Nature Foundation, they receive 24/7 care from a full-time staff and thousands of volunteers annually. Most volunteers, people from around the world who pay to work at the park, don’t seem to mind the change of scenery either.

Despite the differences between them in age and lifestyle, it seemed the volunteers were friendly and warm with everyone around them. It was as if the elephant’s social spirit was imbued in each person through being here. Two women were in their extended fourth week at the park; neither could bear to leave each time their end approached. Another had been taking voluntourism vacations for years, including a Gibbon rescue before her arrival, but had never seen anything like the Park. Everyone mentioned learning about the Elephant Nature Foundation and it’s founder Lek, then feeling a pull towards the cause. I knew their feelings exactly: a photo – less text page describing both was enough to commit me to this experience. The Park is spectacular and, when coupled with Lek, it becomes near transcendental.

Short in stature but with a smile, energy, and dedication as big as one of Park's pachyderms, Lek has dedicated her life to rescuing Thailand’s Asian elephant. She grew up in a small mountain village and developed a close bond with her family’s elephant, a devotion she followed into tourism work. As she learned more about the rampant abuse and mistreatment of the industry’s animals though, Lek became determined to create a better life the animals of her homeland. Today, she runs the foundation and park with a near boundless reserve of energy. That she’s still beaming and down for a chat, even after a ten-hour plus day, shows the passion that drives her work. To see her out and interacting with the elephants is to witness magic, pure and simple.

We’d done several photo shoots with distant elephants to promote a new program, but Lek thought we could do better. She wanted the elephants close, within 20 feet of her subjects, and was sure it was doable. That I was one of her subjects made me nervous. That elephants she chose were a family group, with two young babies, made me terrified. Anything construed as threatening to the calves could result in us getting trampled by unstoppable adults; my mental pictures didn’t develop well. Once we were in place and fresh fruit lured the elephants close however, she quickly allayed my fears. The animals were calm and unbothered by our close presence with her. The babies, skittish by nature, lit up as she came around, one even romping with Lek in the tall grasses. I watched the pair playing in front of me and was captivated by their bond. That moment and this work feel so much bigger than who I am and anything I’d ever expected. In the midst of their frolic, Lek asked me why I’d come and what I wanted to do. I told her that I’d come after being inspired by her story and reading about the Park. And, with a full heart and mile wide grin, I said, “This work is exactly what I want to do.” I meant those words more than anything I’ve ever said.

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/elephant-nature-park-the-first

Incheon Towards a New Beginning

I sit and breathe, able to meditate and take in my surroundings for the first time. Built as a branching series of steel tunnels, with high ceilings and huge glass windows, Seoul’s Incheon International Airport looks as much like a futuristic spaceport as it does something for modern air travel. Every inch is spotless and anything capable of reflecting is shined to do so. The grey shops along the airport’s thoroughfares have a pale brown wooden trim, which adds an Asian accent to the steely environment and brings it back to Earth. Also warming up these cold confines are the Korean Cultural Galleries sprinkled amongst the shops; filled with artifacts and hosting traditional performances, these nooks give you a glimpse of the breathtaking land beyond the numerous blue security checkpoints.

No matter how many people surround me at any point here, things never feel too crowded or clustered. For an airport that’s one of the busiest and, according to Airport’s Council International, best in the world, that’s a testament to its design. Perhaps part of my ease in this environment stems from my frequent daydreaming though, for whenever I’m near one of the massive windows, my mind wanders over the horizon.

This airport is a stop on my journey to Thailand. What began as a novel pursuit last November, something to dream about until reality forced me into a local internship, has actually come to fruition: I’m spending this summer as an IE3 International intern with the Elephant Nature Foundation (ENF) in Chiang Mai, Thailand. They’re one of the region’s leading elephant conservation groups and their efforts to save the endangered Asian Elephant have attracted global attention. With as few as 500 remaining in the wild, and the 2,000 captive animals facing widespread mistreatment, the current situation for elephants in Thailand is dire. To combat these trends, the ENF takes a multifaceted approach to conservation: they work to preserve elephant habitat, educate people about the importance of elephants in Thai ecosystems, and rescue abused captive elephants to give them better lives. My job will be to assist their program manager in various capacities, from promotional event planning to community outreach, based on their needs at any given time. In a few short months, this opportunity has gone from being a pipe dream to what feels like the culmination of my undergraduate experience.

An old Thai proverb states, “White elephants are born in the forest.” It means that the best things in life are difficult to find. I’ve no doubt my experience beyond this flight will be trying in many ways. As I sit in Incheon though, looking beyond the planes and nearby mountains, I can barely contain myself. This summer feels like an adventure and the chance make a real difference in important and tangible ways. To put my studies to practical use and better understand my place in the world. I am ready to tackle whatever difficulties the forest presents, as I know that, in it, there’s a white elephant waiting to be found.

http://www.picturesocial.com/photo/albums/incheon-international-airport