We’d left the banana trees behind and were now moving among tall, thin trees that were haphazardly planted. The spaces between the trees were overrun with weeds, and the whole area looked untended.

“This is the rubber plantation,” Nija said.

“It looks deserted,” my father commented.

“It is.”

“But isn’t rubber valuable…shouldn’t the plantation still be worked?”

“These trees are too old. They don’t produce enough gum,” Nija told him.

My father turned to me and explained, “They tap the trees for gum to make rubber, the same way you get sap to make maple syrup in Vermont.” He asked Nija, “Is rubber still one of the biggest industries in Thailand?”

“Yes, still important,” Nija said. “But now most important are tourists.”

I guessed that made sense. Here we were on top of an elephant that used to be used for industry. Now it was carting us around for our tourist money.

“How old is your elephant?” my mother asked Nija.

“Twenty-five.”

That sounded pretty old. “How long do elephants live?” I asked.

“Fifty or sixty years.”

“I didn’t know that,” my father said.

“Sometimes longer,” Nija said. “A lot depends on how they are treated.” He reached down and gave his elephant a pat on the head and wrapped his arms around him. “This elephant is going to live to be a hundred years old!”

I was really enjoying the ride now. There was a certain rhythm to the elephant’s walk. It certainly was far from smooth, but it was steady and constant. We were rocked back and forth in a comforting way. It was kind of reassuring, lulling. I could almost imagine falling asleep.

Up ahead I could see that the trees ended at an open field, and beyond that was a large building with a peaked roof.

“Is that the temple?” I asked.

“That’s it,” my mother answered.

The closer we got, the bigger and more elaborate the building looked. There was a long path leading up to it through a manicured lawn, and statues—lots of statues.

“What’s that smell?” I asked. It was like flowers or fruit, strong but nice.

“Incense. The monks are burning incense. I love that smell,” my mother answered.

Nija brought the elephant to a stop before we reached the temple grounds. He called out to Ning, the elephant, who brought his trunk up, wrapped it around the mahout, and lowered him to the ground. For a split second I had a terrible fear that that was how we were all going to get down. Instead, Ning kneeled down. I was just about to climb down when I realized that what might be easy for me and my father might be nearly impossible for my mother.

“Is there another way down?” my father asked. Obviously he was thinking the same thing.

“I’ll be fine,” my mother answered. Apparently, we’d all had the same thought. “I’ll be careful, and you two can help.”

“I’ll go first,” my father offered.

He climbed past me and used the elephant’s head and trunk like stairs, lowering himself to the ground. Next I helped my mother climb out of the basket and onto Ning’s head. She seemed to be moving pretty steadily, but I held her arm tightly just to make sure. She sat down on Ning’s head and I let go. Slowly she slid down the side of the elephant’s head and into the waiting arms of my father.