These are the frisky critters that leapt about the roof of our bungalow on a recent stay at Railay Beach. They reminded me of my early love for playful, long-tailed monkeys.
I was 6, when we first visited the Staten Island Zoo and I fell in love with the monkeys and the lions. I loved seeing the lions at feeding time, roaring and carrying on. But I could watch the crazy monkeys forever. I wanted badly to have one as a pet. I really sort of wanted to be one. I was very good on the monkey bars at school, after all.
The monkeys that we saw in Thailand did not thrill me the way they did when I once watched them behind bars.
Worst of all, they gathered in trees above us and it was nerve wracking to rush down the path underneath them... knowing they can make a mess.
The Thai monkeys with their creepy eyes and sudden pouncing made me lose my desire to own a monkey as a pet.
Don and I spotted a few on our morning walk to Phrarang Cave/Beach and I kept my distance. Instead I turned my attention towards a little monkey behavior and climbed up the muddy vines for a while.
I have a feeling I would fail terribly if today, I tried to swing along a set of monkey bars. (I no longer have that monkey-like body I had at age 6.) But I did use my arms and legs to get my 60-year old self up that muddy, rock wall without too much effort. I didn't swing on any vines. I didn't make monkey sounds. I didn't even have a tail to help me along. But I enjoyed "being a monkey" for just a little while.