Ubud: Monkey Splash
It was the rainy season. Every now and then the sky burst and it rained so heavily that we would get soaked to the skin even during the 30-second dash from the guesthouse to Café Kita. On our last day in Ubud, the rain kept us inside all morning, but in the afternoon the clouds finally cleared. It was time to visit Ubud’s main attraction.
“Come with me! You’ll like it—you were born in the year of the monkey!”
But John would have none of it. He felt rough. The infection had begun to spread to his lungs and it looked like an opportunistic bacterial infection had taken hold. Back in Kuta, he would have to go on antibiotics.
So I set off on my own to visit Ubud’s famous monkey forest: at the top of Monkey Forest Road and Jl Hanoman (which is named after the monkey god) several hundred bearded macaques live semi-ferally in a swathe of lush jungle.
I was apprehensive— the macaques are known to be cocky if not outright unpleasant—and after my previous experiences with monkeys, I contemplated wearing contact lenses. In the end, I secured my glasses with a cord and resolved to give the banana stalls at the entrance a miss. That proved to be a good move as several macaques threw themselves at visitors who entered the path to the forest with bunches of bananas in their arms, which they hurriedly threw from them.
Since I carried no food, the monkeys took little interest in me. I moved slowly and respectfully and was able to approach a mother with her tiny baby so closely that she actually brushed against me when she went past.
You’ve got to love bearded macaques: the adult females grow a beard and adult males grow a moustache.
I was lucky, because it was feeding time and dozens of monkeys gathered in the central square where the rangers were doling out jackfruit and chopped sweet potatoes. Everywere we turned, we were surrounded by monkeys. It got even better when I entered the grounds of the Pura Dalem Agung temple—the only visitor to do so because I had brought my sarong along—and watched them playing among the sacred statues and in front of the richly decorated doors.
Happy, I made my way back to the central square where I saw something that surprised me: a bunch of juveniles, sated and with energy to burn, were splashing in the little pond. They were jumping into the water from overhanging branches; preferably right on top of their mates after which they would chase each another back up, goading each other to jump. This is at least what it looked like. I remembered the Dutch woman in Semenggoh watching the orang utans catch bananas, shaking her head and whispering “Only a little human”, again and again, as if to remind herself that it was animals she was watching, not children.
It’s a shame that my camera had run out of film. Some of the juveniles even swam underwater for a while—completely submerged. They knew no fear.
None of the adults joined in, they were far more sedate, which is just as well considering the size of their teeth. Children, and even some spectacularly stupid adults, often tease the monkeys. I am surprised that serious bites are not more common—these people and the kids’ parents would only have themselves to blame.
I finished my afternoon walk by crossing a bridge shaded by huge banyan figs which dropped their roots at least a hundred feet down into a gorge with a foaming river. Around the Holy Bathing Temple, built at a bend in the gorge, there was a path winding along the naked rock carved out by the feroucious current. Clear water seeped from crevices: a holy spring. It as a magical, stunning place so much more so because it was completely hidden from view behind the temple.
On the way back, the sky burst open once again and I got soaked to the bone. But it had been worth it.
Tags: SE Asia, Tag Index
Denni