We looked on nervously as a family of five elephants padded across the dusty road in front of a sedan, and then encircled it.
“They’re crazy to get that close to the elephants,” said my husband Iggy from the safety of our car, 20 yards back.
I agreed, thinking of how African elephants are said to be larger and meaner than Asian elephants.
The previous day, we’d arrived peacefully in the town of Addo, driving past the Woodall House’s lemon groves into a gated compound of off-white buildings and lush gardens. Just inside the gage, Francois greeted us in a pressed, collared shirt. He escorted us to a reception building next to a small, tiled pool. There, coffee, tea, lemon syrup, sugar cookies, muffins and bread were on offer along with six kinds of suntan lotion and big towels for chaises longues under palm trees.
I wrote the text above during my vacation in South Africa. I kept meaning to write more about the elephant park.