Luang Prabang Part 2 – Birthday Boun Boun

Returning down river to the camp for lunch we learnt the mahout commands, ”pai” for go, ”hao” for stop and ”yaya!” for no bad elephant, before heading back up river in our attractive, oversized mahout uniforms for some proper training. I thought the heavy denim uniforms might be a little over the top but when you’re sat on the neck of an animal that enjoys mud baths and has tough wire-like hair over its entire body you’re suddenly grateful that you’re not wearing your own flimsy clothes. I tried to angle for what I thought was a slightly smaller elephant when we got back to the clearing but I was still pretty dubious when the elephant stood up and I was way up in the air balanced on its neck. Getting up is no mean feat, even if it does crouch down which it often won’t, and it took a substantial bottom shove from Theo and an awful lot of pulling by the mahout to get me properly mounted.

When you’re up there all you can see in front of you is this massive hairy head and floppy ears and the ground ahead. Every time she looked around or especially down I felt like I was going to topple off. My nice teenage mahout held on to me for a while before he decided to take a nap, which was very reassuring. Theo’s mahout actually got off the elephant and just strolled along behind. I got used to it after a while and started to really enjoy the feeling of “driving” that vast animal through the jungle, not that it listened to my feeble cries of “pai!” when it didn’t want to. It was surreal sitting atop an animal so vast it barely notices your weight and you can hardly see any of it from where you’re sat.

Boun Boun!

The way down to the river was just a long slippery, muddy slope. I was at the back of the group and watched Theo’s elephant slide down, get one foot caught and slither on its knees towards even ground. With a sigh of relief I registered that my boyfriend was still alive, he had not been cruhed by a falling elephant, then it dawned on me that it was my turn. The mahouts seemed to find the elephants lack of grace absolutely hilarious, which we found very comforting. I was so hot and sweaty with fear by this point that it was wonderful to have a dunk in the river. Half submerged my elephant rolled around, enjoying her bath, and responded enthusiastically when the mahout stood on her back, counted to three in Lao and shouted “boun boun!” (spray). Over and over again her periscope trunk came flicking out of the water and doused me. Elephants can hurl as much as ten litres of water out of their trunks at a time and I took some pretty forceful jets to the face. Back on dry land we rode up the slope and then with a graceful slide down while hanging off her ear my elephant ride was over.

Hao!

We tubed back down river, which basically involved sitting in the inner tube of a truck tyre like a rubber ring and floating along in the current, and walked over to the less than inspiring elephant information centre. This consisted of a large room covered in pictures of elephants walking, bathing and mating (graphically) as well as various diseases and afflictions in absolutely no logical order or with any explanations. Our tour guide Chai filled the time while we were waiting for the others to finish looking telling us about his home in the mountains and how his father abducted his mother when he decided he wanted to marry her. His grandfather then swung a chicken in the air, for reasons we failed to understand. Each to their own I suppose.

At the elephant camp Theo and I of course felt like old pros at the riding and clambered on confidently while the rest of the group wobbled and shrieked. With Theo on the neck and a dutch boy and I in the howdah we set off on a relatively short trip through the trees. It was a pretty easy route compared to the last one and we all took turns scrambling on to the neck. Theo and I shouted “pai!” and “quoa!” at every available opportunity which the mahouts walking along side and taking photos like paparazzi seemed to find pretty amusing.

Leaving the camp we went to a small whiskey village, which really was exactly like every other village we’d been to except that was turned over to the tourist trade. It comprised of wooden homes and dusty streets and stall after stall selling scarves and nicknacks. The only difference here was that you were plied with Lao Lao and rice wine to sample and make you buy something. Back at the elephant camp we had to sit around wait for an angry American couple, who having been forgotten in the morning, had to be taken to the whiskey village we had just left. With everyone grouped together again we travelled to the Pak Ou caves, a stunning set of caves in the side of a sheer rock face dropping straight on to the Nam Ou river. We shot across the river in a frail little boat and climbed first to the higher cave then the lower. The higher cave had a strange metal gate covering its entrance and was pretty dark when you got right back inside. It was full of tiers of tiny Buddha statues brought there by pious Lao People. They showed up like eerie lines of soldiers in the light of the camera flashes. The lower cave was much more open with a Mediterranean style white wall and set of stone steps. It too was bursting with Buddhas of every shape and size but seemed more of an open place of worship than the dark Buddha storage centre of the higher cave.