As the boat putted along an irrigation waterway, slightly wider than a two-lane road, we passed men wading neck deep as they repaired their shrimp net contraptions, mothers and children bathing, birds fishing, and godknowswhatelse that was right under my nose but that I couldn’t see because it was so far outside my experience.
Viewed through my citified eyes, the evening was perfect. We were in the countryside, at sunset, eating an excellent meal 
on a channel that to me could have been cut through the Garden of Eden. Every sight, sound, and smell was new. The boat turned around and we savored it all again in near pitch darkness, navigating with the help of a guy on the bow with a flashlight.
Why this trip on this day in this place? Our office had the day off for Christmas. A guy from work and I decided to visit a friend of his whose job in the States would probably be called “county official.” The position allows him to pull in a few favors now and then.
So when we came calling, he had one of his underlings arrange this little excursion. Three or four people none of us knew came along for the ride, perhaps friends of the boatman. The tab was picked up by somebody we didn’t meet until we got back on land. I didn’t understand what was in it for whom, other than to recognize a you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours arrangement.
The rules of the arrangement got even murkier when the underling then escorted the two of us from the dock to a slightly larger provincial capital. There, the vice governor (also a friend of my friend) set up rooms at the nicest hotel in town and elephant rides the next day, all gratis.
I assume that the next time the hotelier and the elephant owner need a permit, they’ll be reminding the vice governor about “those guys from
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