Monkeying Around

Monkeying Around

For those of you who read my previous post, you know that I landed in Thailand harried, sleepless and exhausted. We reached Krabi and checked in to an absolutely gorgeous hotel. Yay. I processed about five seconds of its gorgeousness before both Z and I hit the bed and didn’t wake up until next morning. Which brings me to Day 2 of our misadventures.

We’d organized a private boat to take us snorkeling, island hopping and swimming in the ocean or rather it was organized by the rest of the family while my baby and I slept like, well like babies. We woke refreshed, reenergized and ready to holiday.

Anyway, we got on the boat and roared off into the open ocean and it was gorgeous. Truly gorgeous and everything we imagined our holiday would be. Relaxing, beautiful and some perfect family time. Feeling very adventurous and might I say brave, I decided to jump into the ocean too along with the other more proficient swimmers in the family.

My swimming technique involves a lot of flailing, gasping and screeching for help. Thanks to my securely fastened lifejacket, I managed to keep all three of the above to a minimum. Somewhat. I did spend a lot of time clutching the footrest that extended out of the boat whimpering. But softly. I cannot stress the softly enough. After all, quiet humiliation is a tad better than loud humiliation, right? Just a tad.

Post that not so relaxing half hour, we got back into the boat. Some of us had to be hauled and shoved back into it. Fine. I had to be hauled and shoved back but only because I wouldn’t let go of that footrest. They had to prise my cold, wet fingers off and toss me back into the boat. No more swimming in the ocean for me. Or rather, no more bobbing in it.

We were heading to the next island when our guide suddenly said, “Would the baby like to see a monkey?” Feeling braver now that I was not in the water, I picked up Z and walked over to the front of the boat to see the monkeys clinging to a rocky cliff that rose out of the depths of the ocean.

They were cute and adorable and all things monkeyish until one decided to visit us on the boat. And not all of us, he chose Z for the honor. He landed with a massive thump right in front of us and started swiping at her. Lunging, grabbing and ducking around our legs with only one thing on his mind…to get to her. This is the moment when all that maternal instinct, mama bear urges roar to the front right? Wrong. I froze. Statues had nothing on me. Luckily for me, my sister in law reacted faster and grabbed Z, sheltering her from the monkey’s persistent attempts to grab her.

“Juice. Juice.” The guide screamed.

Juice? Was she offering us some or offering the monkey? My brain like the rest of me had checked out. Again, my sister in law to the rescue. She grabbed the juice bottle which I, belatedly, realized Z was clutching and tossed it to the monkey.

At which point, the cheeky fellow sat down in front of us and proceeded to drain the bottle. Like he’d been invited for a party. Once he was done, he tossed it back at us. Me, to be more precise, and then dived off the boat and swam back to his hill.

And through all of this, I hadn’t moved a muscle. Go mama bear! Not.

Also, guess whose kid doesn’t EVER want to go to a zoo now?

Stay tuned for the rest of my holiday updates… Because I just haven’t been humiliated enough, I need to share it all with the world.


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