Part I: The Khao Soi Apology


I showed up for breakfast right at 8:00 AM. Since the morning staff made no mention of the owner’s promised noodle soup, I assumed it had slipped through the cracks and ordered a coconut-passionfruit smoothie, muesli, and an iced coffee. Ten minutes later, my server leaned in and told me my soup would be arriving shortly. I should have known better, really.


Sure enough, he presented a massive bowl of beef khao soi, a rich Thai egg noodle soup in a curry broth topped with crispy fried noodles. When I asked if they made it in-house, he explained that the hotel owner had sent him out to a legendary local spot that usually sells out by 9:00 AM (!!!). He actually apologized for being late, citing the long line he had to wait in just to fulfill her promise. It was spectacular, but I was entirely too full, and mindful of my upcoming transit, to finish the bowl.


At 9:20 AM, the van arrived to take me to Elephant Nature Park. My cohort for the week is tiny, just ten of us in the general volunteer group, which is a massive tactical advantage. The park usually hosts 40 to 60 volunteers a week, but right now, the bulk of the slots are occupied by a massive wave of vet students from North Carolina State (or, pre-vet. Unsure. But they all look like fetuses compared to us). Because our circle is so intimate, we are essentially getting a private, highly attentive experience.


Part II: The Human Landscape


The makeup of our small circle is a fascinating, diverse cross-section of backgrounds:


  • Robi: A Colorado resident with a PhD in social work and public health policy who worked as a judge-appointed CASA volunteer in the foster system. In a wild twist of serendipity, she grew up in Arizona and went to high school less than two miles from my childhood townhouse in Phoenix.


  • Mary: A retired nurse practitioner living in Chehalis, Washington, who spent her career dealing with neurodevelopmental conditions, specifically ADHD and autism, including a stint at Seattle Children's Hospital.


  • Bill: A worldly, divorced dad from London. He is well-intentioned and open, though he has a distinct habit of interrupting your sentences midway through to interject with his own stories. A curious fella and a good heart, though. Reminds me a lot of Chris Montgomery


  • Honey and Adam: A couple in their late 20s from Taiwan. Adam coaches triathletes remotely and is headed to a race in Hawaii before visiting Seattle in October. We naturally bonded over sports performance, and since he holds a master's degree in biomechanics, he was completely fascinated by my day job and was eager to talk about force plates. So much for escaping thoughts of work technology.


  • Martina: A repeat volunteer from the Netherlands making her fourth trip here. She was supposed to travel with her partner of 16 years, but after a sudden separation, she pivoted and convinced her fitness instructor to join her instead.


The sanctuary itself is a massive operation, sheltering over 125 rescued elephants, 1,000 cats, hundreds of dogs, water buffaloes, rabbits, cows, and boars. The ethical framework here has tightened significantly since my last visit in 2013. Recent research has shown that direct guest interaction strains the animals, so tourist staples like accompanying them in the river, direct feeding, and touching are completely banned. The elephants now dictate the entire pace of the day. It is a bit ironic, though. Misguided as they may have been, those interactions are what made me fall in love with elephants.


Part III: The Primitive Grid


The physical environment is punishing, with mid 90-degree weather, insufferable humidity, and absolutely no air conditioning on the premises.


The Volunteer Protocol

07:00 - 08:00 | Vegan Breakfast Buffet

08:00 - 10:30 | Morning Shift (Poop scooping, food prep)

10:30 - 12:00 | Free Block (Cat visits, dog walking, naps)

12:00 - 13:00 | Vegan Lunch Buffet

13:30 - 15:30 | Afternoon Shift (Unloading fruit trucks)

13:30 - 15:30 | Free Block (Writing, photo editing, massage)

18:00 - 19:00 | Vegan Dinner Buffet

19:00 - 20:00 | Activity (Movie, Thai culture/language, Elephant education and conservation efforts)


The work tasks are raw and physical, ranging from cleaning elephant water tanks, weeding, and unloading fruit trucks to clearing poop across the 250-acre property. My room is incredibly basic, featuring two twin beds with mosquito nets, a wall fan, and a bathroom where the shower barely drains and the toilet has already broken twice. Because our group is so small, however, we all scored private rooms (HELL yeah). I am using the second twin bed as a staging area just to keep my gear off the floor. The silver lining is the food, the kitchen runs a massive, entirely vegan buffet for every meal and it is *delicious*


Part IV: Therapy


After dinner, a few of us grabbed beers, and the conversation rapidly bypassed small talk. Listening to Mary discuss her career managing neurodivergent adolescents and Robbi share her heavy casework created a space where people were willing to keep peeling back layers.


When Bill asked a blunt question about parental influence on my high-performer traits, it forced me to look at my relationship with my mother. I found myself explaining how a childhood spent avoiding hyper-criticism programmed me to become a chameleon. I gave them the example of how even simple errands would be heavily scrutinized, eventually training me to retreat into shallower, self-protective answers over time. I went to therapy to unpack it; she did not. It was not meant to be a “point-the-finger” situation, but definitely made me think. I did mention that she is a good person, but could never get out of her own way.


There was an unexpected clinical comfort of the group, which ultimately led me to share my recent official ADHD diagnosis, a neurochemical reality that suddenly made perfect sense within the context of my adult burnout. What started as an informal post-dinner beer turned into a two-hour group therapy session. As we walked back to our respective fans and mosquito nets, the feedback was incredibly validating. Robi called me an “amazing young man,” Mary expressed how deeply reassuring it was to hear my story, and even Bill complimented my eloquence.


Exhausted, but excited for the week ahead. I’m feeling encouraged and validated. Letting a defense mechanism drop in front of total strangers is something that only happens in these types of situations.