Marie was Right

Let's get one thing straight. We did not AT ANY POINT tease the wild monkeys. We showed them nothing but respect and affection. The savagery that followed was ENTIRELY of the monkeys’ own wily devising. Our only mistake, and it was a big one, was not turning around and running the hell away as soon as we saw this Kindly Reminder.

It was November 2012. The Yali fellows—Steph, Marie, Hayley, and I— as well as our dear friend Papaya, a Changsha native who speaks perfect English and is one of the best people in this world, were headed on our first group adventure to the wild forests of Hunan Province. We were thrilled to get out of the city, immerse ourselves in nature, paint with all the colors of the wind.

We took an overnight train to Zhangjiajie, a national park northwest of Changsha. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot when we saw our first monkey, sitting demurely under a fiery red maple tree. A pleasant morning to you! his friendly eyes said. Come take a picture with me! I’m harmless and also your friend! We obliged. 

Hubris

When I was little my parents took me to an orchard somewhere in Connecticut to pick fruit. I was pretty young—I have no memory of Chris being there, and we all know that kid would have made his presence known—and I was having a great day. Even greater when I noticed an adorable orange caterpillar scooching across the road in front of me. Being much closer to caterpillar height than my parents, I saw it first and squatted down beside it, watching its hairy little body fold and straighten, fold and straighten. I was delighted. But when I stood up, I noticed another caterpillar a few feet ahead of the first one. And another. And another. And another. Dozens of caterpillars filling the road, all folding and straightening in repulsive lockstep. A shiver ran through my tiny body. One caterpillar is adorable. 100 caterpillars could take me down. Simultaneously terrified that I would not be able to avoid crushing the caterpillars accidentally and that the caterpillars would rise as one to crush me, I started to cry and had to be carried to the car.

And so it was in Zhangjiajie. We’d been charmed by charismatic sub-arboreal Monkey #1.  But then we crossed a little bridge into the park proper, a bridge hanging over a wide, rocky river, a river teeming with monkeys. My spine tingled. Too many monkeys. In video footage from that very moment, most of us still seem to feel pretty positively about the monkeys (probably due in large part to the considerable distance between the hoard and us). Everyone except Marie. “Monkeys jump in your face and kill you,” she declared. “So I’m ok with us moving on.” Perhaps a bit spooked, we continued our trek and it was probably around this point that we saw the aforementioned Kindly Reminder.

This is where the monkeys got really crafty.  They saw that the tide of public opinion might be starting to move against them. We were ok with the monkeys from a distance, but we had Marie’s insistence and the park’s own posted warnings to make us wary. So what did we come across next? Let’s call them the decoy monkeys.

The decoy monkeys were sitting on the path: A mother monkey cradling a tiny baby monkey. They were the cutest, most adorable, most lovable monkeys I have seen before or since, the kind of monkeys that make you believe that there really is love in the world and you’ve felt it and seen it with your own eyes. My heart melted. Marie didn’t know what she was talking about. Monkeys were the best thing that had ever happened to any of us.

Decoy Monkeys

This was of course, all part of the monkeys’ evil plot. The decoy monkeys knew damn well what they were doing. They probably weren’t even mother and child, just the most adorable monkeys Simian Central Casting could scare up on short notice. These were the monkeys best fit to lull us into a false sense of security, to lower our collective guard. And they played their part beautifully. Only Marie remained unswayed. We didn’t turn back.

So far the path had been flat, but before too long we reached the base of the mountain. We stopped for a quick, fortifying snack. Our snacks were in a plastic bag, and they were glorious. Birthday Cake Oreos, sunflower seeds, and, our prized treasures, double layer cheese crackers called 3+2s. We ate a little, then tied the bag back up and hung it on Marie’s backpack. The climb commenced. Marie and Steph were leading the charge with me in the middle and Papaya and Hayley at the rear.

Now shit gets real.

Papaya and Hayley see the monkey first. He tears past them on the path and they watch, frozen, as he launches himself at Steph and Marie.

Panic ensues. Steph and Marie start to scream, Steph letting out the wordless cry of a frightened person, while Marie spews forth an endless litany of “I DON’T LIKE MONKEYS I DON’T LIKE MONKEYS I DON’T LIKE MONKEYS…” She turns her back on our attacker, leaving our treasures utterly exposed. The monkey stands up on its back legs and with one practiced swipe of its claws slices the bag open, leaving our snacks to tumble out onto the ground. The gleeful monkey unhurriedly surveys the options, grabs the 3+2s, and sticks the whole package in his mouth. By this time, Hayley and Papaya, in an act of unthinkable bravery, have joined the fray. Hayley begins hissing and stamping her feet at the monkey, and Marie starts shrieking “THE MONKEYS ARE HISSING!!!!” The monkey, having secured his spoils and registering that our group is noisy and annoying and includes certain members who seem to hold an offensive prejudice against his species, prances off into the brush. It's over. It's all over. Hayley grabs the remaining snacks and begins trying to shove them into the nearest backpack, Steph’s, but Steph is squirming, unwilling to become the next potential monkey magnet. Because she's seen them first: from all sides, a hoard of monkeys—monkeys running down the path in front of us. Monkeys climbing up through the woods behind us. Too many monkeys. Marie starts screaming that we should run back to Changsha, and Papaya starts yelling that we need more humans.

You’ll notice that there’s no mention of my role or my activities during this time. That’s because, probably in following with some keen defense mechanism, my memory of this event has been erased—I’ve had to rely on notes I took at the time to compile this account. Let’s just assume I was being brave and quick-witted and not hiding behind anyone else.

We somehow got ahead of the monkeys and started sprinting up the hill. The monkeys followed at a leisurely pace, but every time we stopped to catch our breath, the monkeys gained ground. They certainly could have caught up with us if they’d tried, but they had our 3+2s already. Now fear was their game, and boy were we scared.

As we dragged ourselves on, the pack of monkeys dwindled until they’d decided, it seemed, there was better game at the base of the mountain. And we escaped, pouring sweat, half-crazy with fear, but physically unscathed.

 

The diehards

We passed a quiet night at the lodge on the mountain, and headed down the following afternoon. As we crossed into monkey territory, we strategized, each creating our own monkey war cry to be used all at once in case we had to defend ourselves, war cries such as, GAHH! EEEE! RRRAA! and I DON’T LIKE MONKEYS!!!!!

But as we descended, the mountain was eerily silent, ominously monkey-free. Had it all been dream?

Lo and behold, at the bottom of the bottom of the mountain, set off from the path, sat one huge, glowering monkey. We got your 3+2s, his evil eyes whispered. Next time, your souls. And your Birthday Cake Oreos. Those looked good.

I will not be returning to Zhangjiajie.