Senor Elephante es gris y grande, pero no soy grande, so guapo y fuerte

When they're happy, i.e. they see a banana-sporting falang, they sway back and forth with surprising grace and wag their floppy ears like a content dog. Our guide brought two garbage bags full of bananas, extra ripe for Dodo the baby, so our first interaction with the elephants was a veritable rush of four multi-ton bristle-haired giants. My sister Megan and I took a full day out to become semi-honorary mahouts, or skilled elephant trainers. While most tourists sit atop a small wooden chair strapped to the elephants back, we straddled Mae Mai and Boon Sri's necks, legs trucked behind their ears. Although elephants can't feel gentle touches on account of their two centimeter thick skin, I found myself patting Mae Mai's head and ears as we trudged along slowly through the countryside outside of Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. We waded in the shallow river water and tried to stay relatively dry and uncrushed while the elephants dunked underwater, rolling, again, like dogs, trunks posed in the air like periscopes.