The following day we drive to Thekaddy.

Goats On The Road

Our driver suggests that since I love elephants so much, why don’t we go to the elephant farm. Done. We arrived and weren’t overly impressed with the conditions of the elephants. All of them were on a short chain. We start with a ride. We are straddling the elephant like a horse. We go for a ride.

Elephant Ride

High Up On The Elephant

Going On A Ride

Hungry For Tapioca

Feeding Time

When we return to the camp, there is an elephant logging demonstration. We know that elephant logging is banned in Thailand and radically shortens the life expectancy of an elephant. We kept saying–no, no, that’s good and finally insisted they cut the logging show short. Who wants to climb up the elephant? My hand springs up–shocking Marc with my speed and fearlessness of this great beast. Off I go. I climbed right up her unassisted. Marc had a turn after me.

Expert On An Elephant

Getting Up

Easy To Get Up… If You Know How

Kiss

Hug

Next we went to give the elephant a bath. Marc laughed as we were in the big tub with our elephant because he has never seen me scrub anything so he thought it was fitting that the first thing he ever saw me scrub was an elephant. After we scrubbed her down (with the husk of a coconut) we climbed on her back to let her have a turn. She gave us each a shower. We were soaked to the skin. It was hilarious. Then we read her a story, tucked her in and put her to bed.

Scrubbing

She Liked It

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Shower Time!

Marc Got It Too

The next morning we got up super early to go on a nature walk. On arrival we were given canvas leg warmer type things. Why are we wearing these I asked. To keep the leeches out. Obviously.

Away we went. Nature walk here we come. It’s muddy. It’s steep. We haven’t seen anything worth writing home about. Yesterday I gave an elephant a bath. Two weeks before, I bottle-fed a tiger. Impress us.

Leech Prevention

Nature Walk

Tobacco Powder Kills The Leeches

Three hours pass. Hills, mud, rocks–not a whole lot. There were monkeys but so high up in the trees–I prefer it when they are at your car and you get a close up look at them. We saw two toucans and Marc took the winning picture with our mini digital which I think annoyed the Dutch man who was schlepping around this monster paparazzi camera. We saw the biggest spider I have ever seen and what I enjoyed the most were the tiger scratches in the tree.

Toucan Couple

Looks Like Halloween

More Spiders In The Jungle

Tiger Marks

Then we went to a spice plantation. Pepper trees (did you know that pepper grows above ground and looks like tiny grapes?) were mixed with the coffee plants. The spice plantation was fun and as the leaves were broken off we got to smell and identify the various smells.

Pepper Plant

Pepper Corns

Since it was raining and our boat cruise was canceled (there had been a bunch of deaths as a boat was overloaded and capsized) we decided to go for an Ayurveda massage. This is a south Indian specialty. Our driver recommended this place and so did Lonely Planet. Why not?

They asked us before if we wanted our head massaged. Of course. First, we were separated. I had a female masseuse. Marc had a male. We were both told to take off all our clothes. Everything? Everything. No one left the room, so we just stripped down. Next thing I know is she beings to pour oil–all over me. There is no towel to cover up what is not being massaged. Naked as the day we were born, the massage started. My girl didn’t talk at all. Marc’s guy didn’t stop talking. Neither of the masseurs were wearing uniforms–just street clothes. It was getting a bit much with all the oil. Did I mention that they literally pored it on us out of a receptacle that looked straight out of Aladdin? I didn’t mind the motion that the rhythmic massage used. I was however surprised that she did my chest–you betcha, she fully massaged my boobs. Then the head massage. It crossed my mind, but I was sure they weren’t going to dump oil into my hair. Of course they wouldn’t. Wait. No. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I hate the entire massage now. Once she put the oil in my hair, I figured that I may as well let her continue. It is in now. She is pulling my hair. Literally yanking it. I am miserable. Oil? In my hair? I keep wondering what the story is with Marc. Once my hair is fully lubed up, I climb into a pod. It looks like a giant Easter egg with only my head popping out. The steam starts locking in all that oil we were swimming in. After a period in the egg when the only thing I can think about is the oil that is in my hair. Where is the shower? Oh–you don’t have one. I towel off and meet Marc outside. He is just as oily and has already told our guide that if my hair is covered in oil, I won’t be happy.

Back at our hotel, we have showers (washing our hair twice) and go for a nice dinner at a different hotel. Our hotel is full of children and families. We can’t high tail it out of there fast enough. We’re on our honeymoon. It is a serious buzz kill to be around screaming babies and 8-year-olds running around.

Alternative To A Tuk Tuk