I
have known two extraordinary Anna’s in my lifetime. One is an old friend, the
other an old soul. I’ve spent years with one of these Anna’s, but only a brief,
brilliant afternoon with the other. One carried me through four years at
William and Mary, the other, across hills and valleys in the Thai jungle. Both
are mammals, though one is significantly larger than the other. Both are
beautiful. One was born and raised in Thailand, the other has just arrived. One
is Anna Kayes and the other is Anna the elephant.
Seated
on the massive neck of the latter Anna, unrestrained, feet tucked behind her gigantic
floppy ears, I wound through the jungle on the island of Koh Chang. It was
December, hot and sunny. I bounced back
and forth comically as her colossal legs shifted rhythmically beneath me. Her
leathery skin was thick, etched with a lifetime of wrinkles, covered in bristly
hair, and nothing like I had imagined it would be. Traversing rocky terrain
with the grace of a mammoth ballerina, I was awed by the ease of Anna’s movement
under the burden of four full-grown humans. She led us down a winding stream
and carried our quartet to the pond that would be our pool. Minutes later,
beyond my wildest dreams, I found myself cradled in the curve of Anna’s trunk
as she reared upward before plunging into the warm murky water below. Panic would
have been a more evolutionary emotion, but only amusement and amazement coursed
through my soul as I plummeted into this extreme version of a dunk tank. I resurfaced,
grinning goofily and Anna eased her way to the surface too. Her slow, gentle
movement threw my spastic treading into stark relief as I scrambled to regain my
position on her strong broad back. Elephants are astounding. Packaged in the
body of a beast, these creatures, whose ancestors must have put some serious
strain on the Ark, somehow embody elegance, poise, and sheer strength. Aboard
and elated, I flattened myself against Anna’s tough skin and prickly hair and
tried my best to freeze time.
But
time charged on. Flash forward five months and I’m seated on an open air bus
with wind blowing through my hair, rice fields whizzing by, and none other than
Anna Kayes seated across from me. She’s fresh off a flight from India and I’ve
finally allowed my heart to believe that she’s not a mirage. Beyond my wildest
dreams, my college housemate has become my Thai roommate. She’s ginning softly,
lost in thought. Backpacks at our feet, Thais to our sides, we make eye contact
and beam. “Me too,” I say, to affirm our joint realization that we are two of
the luckiest girls on the planet. Human Anna, my palindromic pal, is the same
backward and forward. No matter which way you look at her, from across the
Sunken Gardens or along the streets of Bangkok, she’s Anna. She sees the best
in people, against common sense and preconceived notions. She spreads laughter
like a plague of joy. She’s recklessly, refreshingly friendly. The borders of
my comfort zone are ever-expanding in her presence.
One
evening after scarfing food at our local haunt, lovingly dubbed “Corner Noods,”
we passed a series of neon lights leading to who knows where. Anna being Anna
encouraged me to divert our drive home and follow the lights. Like two moths to
a flame, one hesitant, one hopeful, we sought treasure at the end of this
roadside rainbow. The lights guided us to the beginnings of a local fair,
nothing out of the ordinary, except the two goofy foreigners driving a
motorcycle through the joint. It was a quick diversion, virtually effortless,
and I thought back to my needless hesitation. We had the time, so why not be
curious and adventurous, rather than practical and set? As we rerouted back home, I reflected,
“Anna,
I’m glad you're here. I think you're going to help me to be more spontaneous.”
“Thanks”
she replied, “I think you're going to help me to think things through.”
We
are two absolute goons. Living together in Thailand. What we’ll learn from each
other and this world I can only imagine, but I have a feeling it will be of pachydermic
proportions.
