words from the world

A dal bhat (Nepali traditional dish) in the stomach after this thrilling sail down, I wait by the road for a coach that goes to the Chitwan national park. They load my big rucksack on the roof of the bus and this one starts again. A few hours later, the coach drops me off as we cross the city of Narayanghat. A horde of touts surround me but I draw the lethal weapon saying I've already booked a room in a lodge. At this time, somebody approaches me, I hop on the back of his motorbike and we leave to the bungalows camp, not far from the park entrance. We leave the main road for muddy paths and a vague feeling of freedom. The afternoon is quite over and the twilight turns up. The stroll planned for the afternoon is canceled and I directly carry on the dinner. Vegetarian escalope. African specialty. The darkness covers the camp and is the harbinger of a relaxing night.
The next morning, after a quickly swallowed breakfast, I mount the motorbike to go by a river which flows through the park. The gondolier settles 2 chairs at the front of his boat, then he pushes the bank back with the paddle. We slowly sail down the river watching myriad of birds fluttering and chattering into the air. Into the water, taciturn crocodiles and ill-fitted-teethed gavials despise us and keep on resting. These first hectometers intoxicate me. Superb blue-breasted kingfishers ferret around on the top of branches. The Nepali gondola drops us off on a bit of marshy meadow while the trees of the opposite bank are reflected in the water and welcome us.






We swap the wooden chairs for a pair of binoculars the guide carries with a shoulder strap and leave to meet the animals of the forest. We juggle the clods of earth and sometimes end onto a sponge-like turf. A little bit further, in the undergrowth, the surface of a transient lake gives a tribute to the knotty trees of its shore. An eerie shimmer throws into a fairy tale. The guide spies every move and every sound behind the bushes. We disturb some deers which run away. The squeaking of our steps don't belong to their range of known and accepted sounds.





Our loop ends at the elephants breeding center. Several young and less young, shamefully tied specimens trudge their imposing old bones covered with a thick grey skin. Nothing more than a mini-zoo. We cross the river and go back to the camp to have lunch.








In the beginning of this afternoon, our jeep goes by the different camps to pick up tourists, then follows the path on the edge of the park. With 2 Japanese, I share the square dome harnessed on the back of an elephant. The elephant driver grabs one of its ears, leans his foot on the trunk and mounts onto the elephant's neck. He places his feet behind its big ears and communicates with the quadruped like that. Its gangling walk shakes us all over the place but I won't swap my seat for the most comfortable armchair. Let's go for the elephant safari! I'm surprised at the obedience of the giant quadruped. It does the elephant driver commands, "turn right", "turn left", "faster", "stop" and all of those, only with the feet pressing on its ears. When a branch or a shrub hinders the way, the elephant driver shouts an order, the trunks raises, seizes the hindering branch and rips it off with an astonishing ease. But the elephant has its mood swing as well and a stick is there to remain it back the boss of the stroll. A knock on the frontal bone vents a muffled sound we hear resonating and spreading along the cranium bones of the powerful animal.
The grass is beyong 3m high and the elephant unchangeably goes forward. Our eyes look for the animal presence. And despite the noise made by the pachyderm during its walk, animals let us approach. The small human beings perched on its back are forgotten and we take part in the animal kingdom. Beautiful deers eat and male peacocks attempt to win the female. We won't see the fierce Bengal tiger which however ornates every billboard of the Chitwan park. Their dangerously low number is threaten by the smugglers who make a fortune selling them to their Chinese neighbours. The organs of the tiger are in the composition of the so-called miraculous medicines of the traditional Chinese medicine.







On the way back, my eyes get a familiar feature in the distance. Familiar since I was child and glanced through animal books. A superb breast-plated quadruped sets off with a horn on the snout. Our safari reaches its climax. Like kids, and sorry to disturb its serenity, we admire this fabulous rhinoceros. It only drinks in a small pond and this trivial, daily moment changes into an exceptional and magical time for me. And for a long time, I'll talk about this rhino I admire from the back of an elephant somewhere at the borders of Nepal.%%