Page 59 of Catch a Wave

“Here we are,” Bodhi says, waving at a sedan. The driver exits the car and introduces himself and then Bodhi and I climb into the back seat.

“To the temple?” he asks.

Bodhi nods and then he looks at me and says, “Surprise!”

“We’re going to the Uluwatu Temple?”

“I thought you might like watching the fire dance.”

“It is very sacred,” our driver informs us. “The temple faces southwest. We have nine directional temples in Bali. They ward off all evil spirits. You will wear a sarong or sash when you come onto the sacred grounds. Because you have long pants, only the sash. They will give it to you when you pay your entrance fee.”

We chat with our driver for the short eight minutes from the resort to the temple. Bodhi asks him about his family and good places to eat around Uluwatu. The car pulls up to the temple grounds. Before we exit the car, our driver says, “And watch out for the monkeys.”

After Bodhi pays the driver, we walk onto the temple grounds. Bodhi pays the equivalent of about seven dollars and then we are each given an orange scarf to tie around our waists.

“Lookin’ good, Mavs. That’s just the finishing touch to your outfit.”

“Be careful with the monkeys.” One of the workers tells us. “They like to steal.”

We walk along large stone patios with various stone pergolas and pavilions to the sides along the way. Some are decorated with solid-colored fabric banners. We’re barely onto the property when I start to see the monkeys.

Bodhi takes out his phone and starts filming.

“Look at these monkeys,” he says into his mic while he films. “They’re everywhere. Hey! Look at that one. He’s got a water bottle!”

Sure enough, one of the monkeys along the edge of the path is twisting the cap off a water bottle and chugging the liquid. Then he bores of drinking and literally tosses the bottle so it goes sailing through the air with an arc of water spraying out in its trail.

A crowd is gathered a little way down. When we reach them, we see a monkey holding a cell phone. A man is talking to him in a British accent. “Here, fella. You can have a sweet. It’s my last one. Trade, would ya?”

The monkey bares his teeth. Those are some very sharp teeth, and he looks like he knows how to use them. When his mouth is closed, this monkey looks like a little old man, working at a phone repair shop. Because, yes, he has decided to dismantle the phone, starting with adeptly removing the case.

Bodhi puts his hand on my back and guides me away from the crowd. We walk down another stone path that overlooks the limestone cliff leading to the Indian Ocean below. The sun is still up and the water in the cove is a shade of turquoise that makes it look as if someone dumped food coloring into it. I’ve never seen any part of the ocean so clear and blue in my life—not even the Caribbean.

The driver was right. Monkeys dominate the landscape—sitting on stone pillars, crossing paths, up in trees, on walls.Their gray coats and long tails and tiny human-like faces pop out of nowhere. And they aren’t afraid of the tourists at all.

We’re walking toward the amphitheater when Bodhi shouts, “Look out!”

I turn just in time to see a monkey literally jumping out of the bushes right at me. He’s flying like Batman, arms outstretched and a wild look on his face. He lands on my back with a thump, instantly gripping my hair and the part of my jumper that goes over my shoulder.

I’m freaked out but also laughing hard.

The monkey obviously has no intention of releasing me. In an instant, I remember those sharp teeth of the monkey we saw with the cell phone, so I start shouting, “He’s on me! He’s on me! Get him off!”

The monkey isn’t bothered in the least by my reaction to him. He hangs on to my hair and bends toward my waist. He begins pulling at the flap on my crossbody purse which is resting on my hip.

I love animals. Love them. I’m not loving this monkey clinging to me like I’m his wild monkey mama.

Bodhi’s eyes catch mine and when I see he’s not freaking out, we both burst into cackling laughter. Bodhi’s cracking up so hard, almost to the point where he can’t breathe.

I spin in a circle and the monkey hangs on. He starts making this screeching noise while I turn. What does the screeching mean? Is he having fun? Or is he getting dizzy? I come to a stop and he’s still attached with a determined grip on my jumpsuit, purse and hair.

A Balinese woman walks up to Bodhi and hands him this fruit that looks like a short, green, fat banana. “Offer him this and he will jump off your girlfriend.”

Bodhi’s eyes crinkle with his smile. I heard it too.

Girlfriend.

“Are you ready to ditch your hitchhiker, Mavs?”

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