I am in Udawalawe National Park, Central Province, Sri Lanka, typing under a mosquito net draped over our King-sized bed.  We’re just back from an elephant safari through the park.  It is a sobering experience to see these giant animals tearing down trees to eat the leaves, playing in water, protecting their young, and ambling across dirt roads a few feet from the exposed Jeep that one is sitting in; I was not helped by having finished, five hours earlier, a 750ml bottle of Arrack with one other guy, then sleeping for four hours before a 6 a.m. start.

Liquor Hangover and Safari.  I guess this must be how Hemingway felt every day.