“I was thinking that after lunch I might go and have a nap. That call last night was wonderful, but it disturbed my beauty sleep,” my mother said.

“And yet I was thinking you looked particularly beautiful this morning!” my father told her.

“Maybe you need a nap too, because clearly your eyes are going,” my mother joked. “Although I was hoping that while I was sleeping the two of you would go out and do something fun.”

“We could do that. Sam, what do you think would be fun?”

“Snorkeling would be fun.”

“Then snorkeling it is. I’ll talk to Philippe and ask him to arrange it right after lunch.”

We stood among a group of young people waiting and watching while the elephant made its little circuit. I knew the route pretty well—along the beach, up toward the lobby, cutting across the lawn, and back down here to the set of steps used to climb on. While there was no way I was going to ride it, it did bring back some good memories.

I even understood why all these little kids and first-time tourists were so excited. After all, it was an elephant. For most kids, the closest they’d ever come to riding any type of animal was one of those fake horses at the grocery store, where your parents would put in fifty cents and the horse would shake and bounce for two minutes.

The mahout led the elephant with a rope attached to a collar around its neck. It reminded me of those pony rides they sometimes had at petting zoos, where a handler led you and the pony around in a little circle. Here it was just a bigger animal and a bigger circle.

Three little kids and their dad were up in the howdah on the elephant’s back. They looked as though they were having a good time, laughing and smiling. A woman—I assumed she was the mother—was trotting along, taking pictures.

“The elephant doesn’t seem to want to cooperate,” my father said.

The mahout was struggling to convince his elephant to come back onto the sand and stay off the grass at the edge of the resort. The elephant was digging in its heels, and it was only with a lot of pulling and encouragement that it started off again.

“Probably doesn’t like the hot sand under its feet,” my mother suggested.

She was wearing sandals. I was barefoot. The sand wasn’t really that hot because it was still pretty early, just before ten.

The elephant sidled up to where we were all standing and nestled against the steps. The father assisted his children down, one by one, with the mahout and the mother helping. Then the father climbed down himself.

Everybody crowded around the elephant. It seemed like a nice animal, very calm and gentle. It reminded me of an old, tame, good-natured horse. Even if you weren’t taking a ride, the mahout would let you go up and touch it or give it some fruit from the salad bar. It was probably the best-fed elephant in all of Thailand. I wished I’d thought to grab something.