Royal Chitwan National Park-- The best place for a Nepali Wild Bore

We sit in the front of a 20 foot-long skiff and glide slowly upstream through the languid river in the fog. In the middle of the river, I cannot see either bank, and I can barely discern the upright figure of the boatman who propels us across with a 10 foot bamboo pole which lightly graces the silt on the river bottom. The fog seems to absorb all light, and the only sound is the lazy current lapping over the gunwale. It's not just quiet; it's silent. This is intolerable so I say "alright everybody-- we're on Safari now-- Australian accents all day long. Crikey!" For my companions, this is funny. At first.

We land on the opposite bank and shuffle along a makeshift dock of sandbags tossed into the river which we hop across as if dodging traffic in Kathmandu. As I prepare to leap over the water to shore I look back toward my companions and exclaim "now my timing for this will have to be spot on" imitating my hero Bear Grylls. It doesn't matter to me that Bear is not Australian-- I will imitate Bear and Steve Irwin interchangeably all day. I pronounce "timing" like "toy-ming" and "spot on" like "spa-tawn." Eloise rolls her eyes. Rob laughs. He should not encourage me.

Our hired Nepali guide- a youngish looking confidence-exuding man named Hup (pronounced "hoop")-- asks us the thought provoking question "what is the most dangerous animal of all?" in clear English. Without hesitation I hunker down, spread out my arms, make my expression wild and excited for the camera, which (in my mind) follows my every action, and I say "ME!" Hup laughs and we walk on. After a while, still curious, I ask "no seriously, what's the most dangerous animal?" "Man" he says. My acting made his serious environmentalist statement reek of anti-climax, but as a temporary Australian for the day, I soldier stoically on through the awkwardness.

We board the Jeep which is open in the back for optimal wildlife (woild loif) viewing. We have gone not even 50 feet when we are surprised by a grouping of spotted deer. With an animal like that, you've got to be in complete control. People think I'm dangerous when I approach a fearsome animal like the spooted deer, but that's just percieved danger. I have to prove to the animal that I'm not afraid. "MEEE-upppp. MEEEE-upppp" I yell into the forest, imitating the animal's primitive mating call (moiting coal). They scatter. Rob gives me a dirty look, but he is just a silly American unaccustomed to life in these parts (pats). Hup points out that these are the "food of tiger" and the jeep rolls on. But I know that since (scenes) these animals crave salt, they may have tried to lick us to death. It was very harrowing. Few people know the actual danger (doin-jah) involved with the mighty spotted deer herd.

We drive (droive) through the forest knowing full well that those deer could still decide to take out their agression on us. They are known to charge the vehicle. Our driver drinks a piss-like substance out of a bottle and he's off his face by 9 am. I get the sense he's a bit of a layabout as he seems confused and lost and drives slower than necessary. But no worries, for at 10:17 we catch site of our first wild boar! He stands out like a dog's balls against the tall grasses as his black hide squeels through the forest. Would've been a good meal, that. I've had nothing but a dingo breakfast this morning, so I'm getting a bit hungry.

We continue along the dusty road as the sun burns through the clouds as cross as a frog in a sock. Eloise and Rob put some sunscreen on their necks, but I don't need it. I'm a true bushman. We drive through the high grass which Hup and his mates burn in the Spring to help the ecosystem evolve properly. There are many silk cotton trees and I sense large animals lurking in the brush. I call out into the forest. "Speeeer-chuck! kukuuuuuurrr. kukuuuuuur. chuck-chuk-chuk-chuk- neeeeeek!" These calls are very attractive to wildlife. Rob tells me he doesn't think we'll see any animals if I'm making so much noise, but he needs to bugger off. I learned this in the Outback.

12:00 I need to get some sustenance fast. A beetle carelessly lands on my shoulder and I snatch it up for a quick bite (boit). Eloise cringes because even though she's a fellow Aussie, she's from the city and has become a Vejjo. We grab ourselves a couple of sangers, and Hup goes into the bush for some wild berries. Rob's interest in berry taxonomy causes him to ask "what kind of berries are these?' and Hup tells him they're "red berries." I have a laugh over that. We eat our vegemite sandwiches with the crusts cut off and survive on that and red berries alone. Ominous sounds emanate out of the brush, but we aren't scared. We're bush people.

Eloise asks Hup to name a particular bird. "That one-- the one with shiny blue on it. What's he called?" she asks. Hup says it's a black drongo, and we have a bit of a giggle over that because where we're from a drongo is a drunken person. "hah hah, no worries mate!" I tell him, and Eloise looks annoyed. I turn to her and say "hey look! That's Rhino (Roy-now) dung in the road! In these parts, Rhinos always leave their dung in the same place. These Rhinos are extremely nearby!" I exclaim. Rob is now ignoring me, presumably because he doesn't want to scare the animals by responding to my antics.

Maybe it's the wild red berries or maybe I'm just due, but what Americans euphemize as "nature's call" is strong and I've forgotten my bogroll! I have to go to the dunnie way bad mate, and there's nothing here but croc infested swamp and high grass concealing all sorts of venomous snakes! It's very treacherous!
"Eloise! Do you have any toilet paper?" I plead.
"A real Australian would just use a leaf." she mumbles.
"Well, I'm not..."

Oh yeah. I suppose I have some shortcomings as an Australian, but it's still my first day and there's a learning curve. I can't go in the bushes! There might be bugs in there! Whatever! I know who I am! I walk over to the military post where we have stopped and ask them which way to the bathroom. My face must have betrayed my urgency, because they laughed heartily and pointed. Whatever again! I'll just do this and then go back to being a real bushman. As I wander over to the loo, I wonder whether I've crossed the line with my shenanigans. Will Eloise tell her friends that I was "cheeky"?

Even though I repeat my mantra of "no worries," these and other worries propel me back into my American wuss-dom.