A flea-bit peanut monkey, and other thrills of the road..

Tuesday began with a breakfast on our lovely veranda. Then it was off to explore greater upper UBUD. This

"They killed Kenny! Bastards!"

actually took a lot longer than we expected, partly because there are quite a few stores, and also because Yvonne insisted in going in each one, inflaming the hopes of shopkeepers by having them pull down clothes until the pile or rejected clothes towered above her, and then smiling, thanking the shopkeeper, and saying "today we're just window shopping" (pointing at me, in an attempt to include me in her behavior) and sailing out the door like the Duchess of Windsor into a high tea.

We succeeded in getting all the way up the street and then back down to the Monkey Forest. There was a very small used bookstore, and because the hotel has no TV, and the weather report called for rain, we each bought a big book. Eventually, we also did buy some clothes, Yvonne getting a pair of traditional-ish pants and a shirt, and me a batik shirt. We also had coffee and drinks along the way, and for lunch suckling pig and Chicken-rice. The previous night Yvonne had ordered Crispy Duck, which turned out to be crisped in some horrible fish-oil, but the lunch was quite good and the restaurant overlooked a rice field ringed by scenic farm buildings/wreckage

Then, as it was the absolute middle of the day, we headed to the hotel for an hour or two, to cool off.

At about 2:30 off to the Monkey Temple, where Yvonne must have taken the opportunity to smear banana creme in her drawers, because she became the immediate interest of every monkey in the place. This meant being mugged for a banana just as she bought it from the vendor and  jumped on and stolen from by a monkey in the temple area. But this was merely a case of saving the best for last, as when we were about 2/3 of the way through the place, and unfortunately I was a bit ahead, so could not photograph it. Yvonne stopped and got jumped and pickpocketed by a monkey who she let unzip her purse and steal all her Indonesian Rupiah! Fortunately, the monkey quickly determined it was not edible and dropped it on the ground. But, that action had alerted all the other monkeys to the possibility that there was something good going on, and as Yvonne scurried around trying to pick up the loose bills, she found herself in the middle of a bunch of monkeys hurrying towards her to get in on the alleged bonanza. After scooping up all the money she could see, Yvonne scurried off to catch up with me and wonder why I didn't stay to take pictures of her attempted donation.

We left and Yvonne, over a calming gelato, counted her money, which seemed to all be back in her purse.

One kind of cock

Then it was off to another cafe which overlooked yet another rice-field which was alternately filled with cavorting chickens and dogs, although the dogs never went after the chickens as we (well, I) hoped. On the way out the help came hollering down the stairs waving my hat, which I had tried to leave behind. We immediately headed off in the wrong direction, which I quickly realized when I spotted an enormous liquor store that I had never seen before. I fought back the urge to spend a lot of money there^^ and we walked back to the cafe across from our hotel.  There, I realized I didn't have my reading glasses. A short moment of panic, and then I asked Yvonne to order mea daquiri because, well, why not? and ran back to the first cafe to see if I had left my glasses there. No luck, and on the way back I stopped in a drug-store where they did not have reading glasses, and could not produce the name of a single store that they thought might have reading glasses. Ooops.

Another kind

Got back to the cafe where Yvonne was sitting, received a daquiri that tasted exactly like the margarita I had got the night before, and noticed that my glasses were sitting on the table. Yvonne shrugged, "They were in my purse." And watched with interest as I drank my margarita. It was happy hour, so I finished it and ordered again, this time making sure the waiter knew I wanted a daquiri, and, when my margarita came, I drank it anyway. Then, off to an overpriced dinner of Nasi Goreng and the Indonesian version of beef-stew, and back to the hotel, as usual.