I'm near a mournful display encouraging people to avoid buying ivory and so save the elephants. Eminently politically correct and commendable but the background soundtrack of elephant moans or wind between massive, bleached bones (or whatever) is losing some of its toe-tapping cachet. So too, the images of sagging, tusk-less elephant corpses are not aiding the digestion of my travel sandwich of smoked salmon, gouda cheese (so good and so cheap here, now that's progressive) and fresh cucumber which was grown in pots in my mother-in-law's darling little greenhouse. The beer and gouda diet I've been on is incidentally not recommended for those who would like to return less hefty from a vacation than when they departed.
The gong has sounded; the journey to gate G9 begins. Other travelers must take their turn hearing the elephants' mournful songs while we head for a distant cheap flight gate that is hopefully somewhere this side of the Zuider Zee.