Bali Monkey Forest Mischief

Twelve days in bed and all I managed to accomplish was a whole lot of binge-watching—Hell’s Kitchen, Murderbot, The Gilded Age, Master Chef, a couple of Trainwrecks, and The Last Showgirl, to name just a few. In and out of delirium, I couldn’t research a thing about Bali. Even watching shows was barely tolerable. My eyes ached, my head ached, my throat ached… everything ached.

And the thought crept in—what if feeling crappy became my norm? The idea petrifies me.

This is not the Living Like I’m Dying show. Not yet, anyway. My time spent supine (and not the good way) in paradise solidified one thing: when it’s time to make my final curtain call, I’ll exit stage left swiftly. No lingering backstage. Nursing anything other than a hangover will not be tolerated. I’ll take a scene out of Shogun and fall on a sword before I spend my final days infirm.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Little did I know I was in for quite a performance right in my backyard. Who doesn’t appreciate show business? Only here, they call it Monkey Business.

Turns out my maid’s quarters, attached to the villa in front, back directly onto the perimeter of the Bali Monkey Forest. All those little fellows bailed on Thailand and swung over here. Immensely entertaining creatures—and do they ever put on a good spectacle.

Living next to the Bali Monkey Forest has given me some of the wildest street performances imaginable. They’re in the streets, on bikes, climbing poles, scurrying into open-air stalls. I watched one monkey jump from the electric wires above straight onto a girl’s head, trying to grab her cup of coconut ice cream. She shrieked, threw the cup, and then she and her friend dissolved into laughter as the monkey devoured what was left.

I’m really not big on audience participation performances, so I keep my eyes to the sky.

The Bali Monkey Forest is a protected, enclosed environment, but these little mischief-makers aren’t caged like in a zoo. Even if they knew exactly where their habitat begins and ends, they’d still breach the barriers—it’s their nature. They are monkeys. Well, technically Balinese long-tailed macaques. According to the forest’s FAQ page, about 1,280 monkeys currently call it home.

Co-starring in the Monkey Street Invasion are the Canine Crew. Some have collars, others don’t, but what really catches my eye are the… shall we say… big ole Bali balls. Quite the R-rated material—puts our dog-and-pony shows to shame. Oh dear. So glad Wolf isn’t here to witness this.

My favorite form of entertainment here, however, is the 24-hour peep show called The Beautiful Boys of Bali Extravaganza. Yumminess all around me. Now that I’m finally mobile, I wander the streets, goo-goo-eyed from one front-row seat to the next. Observing such splendid creatures in their native habitat has been my biggest highlight thus far. Season tickets secured.

Balinese babes are just as beautiful, but Bali boys… they float my boat.

Everything about Bali seduces me—the warmth of the people, the aesthetic, the architecture, the food, the peacefulness, the perfection in its imperfection.

It’s a storyline I’d love to write myself into. Supporting cast would be fine. Hell, I’d even be an extra. But for now, I must fulfill my Living Like I’m Dying Southeast Asia tour contract before signing on for another.

Nine more months of nonstop travel, throwing myself into new environments, different living spaces, untold adventures, exciting experiences, and exotic locales. Two hundred seventy-three point seven five days to go.

But as we say in show biz…

The show must go on.