Monkey Forest

I was walking to the Monkey Forest, and before the entrance to the actual forest proper, there’s a stairway.

Me being me, I went “WHERE DOES THAT GO?!?” and promptly went up the stairs.

 

These were the kind of huge steps, the kind that make you feel eternally two years old, carefully stepping one foot at a time, as if you’re still learning to balance the weight of gravity with the need to find out what’s over there? As I got to the top of the stairway, every flat surface was covered in leaves and sticks, so I wasn’t always sure just how far down it was to the next step.

When I reached the top of the hill, I found that the stairs led to…absolutely nothing.

Well. Not nothing.

The stairs ended at the top of the hill, and left me in the middle of what seemed to be a nursery area for macaque monkeys.

There were baby monkeys everywhere. Some of them were so small they were still mostly pink, too young to have much fur yet.

I stood there, and tried to take a few pictures.

I was so entranced by suddenly being surrounded by baby monkeys, that I didn’t notice that there was an older monkey on babysitting duty who distinctly did not want me there.

I turned around and was faced with a giant, hissing monkey.

At which point, I went back to the stairs, desperately trying to remember what I’d read about how to defuse situations with Macaque monkeys. (All I remembered is that they were attracted to shiny things, don’t try to take anything that they had already grabbed, and that showing teeth was seen as an act of aggression.)

I didn’t want to turn my back on it, because the last thing I wanted was to get jumped by this monkey when I couldn’t see it coming.

It didn’t think I was moving fast enough, as I was trying to pick my way back down the stairs, and so started slapping my legs.

It finally left me alone when I got a little ways down the stairway, but it walked along the top of the hill, just in case I got any ideas about trying to go back up.

 

So. Sometimes magical stairways don’t lead to Narnia. They lead to angry monkey babysitters who want you to go back down the hill RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.

Advertisements

Share Your Story:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s