Rabies is the new black (Liburan Part Two)
Blog: I don't wash my hair - 9 October 2009
By: Odd Duck
From our underwater oasis in Bunaken, Katie, Jenny, Jeff and I headed for Tangkoko National Park, renowned -- or at least attempting to acquire some renown -- for its tarsier. The tarsier is a small nocturnal opossum (at least that's what it looked like to me) and the "ooohs" and aaaahs" that a tarsier sighting elicit are strong evidence of human inability to distinguish "small" from "cute." Let's be honest, this little guy looks like the coke-addled love child of a kola bear and a rat.
Certainly the tarsier was not the most memorable encounter of the trip. That dubious honor, at least from my vantage point, goes to the goddamn monkey that attacked me. The monkey didn't take my water bottle or my glasses or my park ticket, or any of the cute little things I always hear about silly monkeys doing to tourists. This monkey charged me, hurled his filthy monkey-body at me, and rallied his monkey-friend to do the same.
The incident began when, towards the end of our hike, we came across several monkeys playing on the trail. Some monkeys were demure and self-conscious, as I now firmly believe all monkeys should be.
Others...well...
Yes, we get it, dude, it's not going to suck itself.
Anyway, the monkeys were fun to watch for a few minutes, after which their novelty wore off a bit. That's when Jeff decided to sit on the fence with the monkeys and chill.
A few minutes later, Jenny joined him.
Shortly after snapping that photo, I joined them on the fence, on the other side of Jeff. Meaning, furthest from the monkeys. There I sat, minding my own business, when I realized that Jenny and Jeff had bolted from the fence and were running away. I looked down the fence to see a monkey charging me.
My instinct was to slowly get up and walk away as quietly and passively as possible. The rationale here was that if I ran, they would chase me, a rationale rendered worthless by the fact that Jeff and Jenny were already running, and whatever monkey excitement we were going to elicit had already been provoked. The only consequence of my calm attempt to remove myself from the premises was that I was still really close to the monkey when he got down to my end of the fence. Close enough that he found it easy to launch himself at me, wrapping his filthy monkey arms around my waist. This bit of commotion proved irresistible to his friend, who aped the leap and landed on my back. Now I had two goddamn monkeys squawking and hitting me.
I really, really wanted to fling my arms and punch a monkey in the face, but instead I froze, looked at the ground and then slowly curled my spine, hoping to become as unexciting and nonthreatening as possible. After a few seconds, when the monkeys gathered I was not up for a fight, they swaggered off me and returned to their fence as though nothing had happened.
Our guide thought this was really funny and told me, between bursts of hysterical laughter, that I was lucky the monkey didn't bite me. I really need to learn how to say "screw off" in Indonesian.
Moments after the tackle:
I will take the poisonous snake any day of the week.
Certainly the tarsier was not the most memorable encounter of the trip. That dubious honor, at least from my vantage point, goes to the goddamn monkey that attacked me. The monkey didn't take my water bottle or my glasses or my park ticket, or any of the cute little things I always hear about silly monkeys doing to tourists. This monkey charged me, hurled his filthy monkey-body at me, and rallied his monkey-friend to do the same.
The incident began when, towards the end of our hike, we came across several monkeys playing on the trail. Some monkeys were demure and self-conscious, as I now firmly believe all monkeys should be.
Others...well...
Yes, we get it, dude, it's not going to suck itself.
Anyway, the monkeys were fun to watch for a few minutes, after which their novelty wore off a bit. That's when Jeff decided to sit on the fence with the monkeys and chill.
A few minutes later, Jenny joined him.
Shortly after snapping that photo, I joined them on the fence, on the other side of Jeff. Meaning, furthest from the monkeys. There I sat, minding my own business, when I realized that Jenny and Jeff had bolted from the fence and were running away. I looked down the fence to see a monkey charging me.
My instinct was to slowly get up and walk away as quietly and passively as possible. The rationale here was that if I ran, they would chase me, a rationale rendered worthless by the fact that Jeff and Jenny were already running, and whatever monkey excitement we were going to elicit had already been provoked. The only consequence of my calm attempt to remove myself from the premises was that I was still really close to the monkey when he got down to my end of the fence. Close enough that he found it easy to launch himself at me, wrapping his filthy monkey arms around my waist. This bit of commotion proved irresistible to his friend, who aped the leap and landed on my back. Now I had two goddamn monkeys squawking and hitting me.
I really, really wanted to fling my arms and punch a monkey in the face, but instead I froze, looked at the ground and then slowly curled my spine, hoping to become as unexciting and nonthreatening as possible. After a few seconds, when the monkeys gathered I was not up for a fight, they swaggered off me and returned to their fence as though nothing had happened.
Our guide thought this was really funny and told me, between bursts of hysterical laughter, that I was lucky the monkey didn't bite me. I really need to learn how to say "screw off" in Indonesian.
Moments after the tackle:
I will take the poisonous snake any day of the week.
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