The Birthday from Heck

My thirty-first birthday started out well. We woke up for our second day in a place called Ranthambor, a small town, with genuine people and none of the tourist hassles that you find elsewhere. (Ranthambor is known best as the place in India you are most likely to see a tiger. We were very lucky and saw a tiger there, but fortunately that was the day *before*, since it would not have fitted at all with the rest of the tale of my birthday.) And my mother, bless her cotton socks, had sent a gift along with Sue for me. Now, as always, this gift was prefaced with ‘It’s just a little funny thing that I thought you might like’. And, as always, I was over the moon (yes, it was the mask and party blower that she sent).

We left Ranthambor for Jaipur early, and arrived five or six hours later just outside the city in the Galta Temple (or monkey Temple) at about midday. Neither of us could recall having asked to go to a monkey temple. This was another itinerary item from Vikas, our driver. Likewise, feeding the monkey’s was not optional, nor the employment of a guide who looked like Beetlejuice’s Indian cousin.

The temple was quite impressive. It is a complex of ancient buildings stretching up along a mountainside set into a crevice; impressive Indian architecture, adorned with hand-painted artworks, pools of [fresh] magic water from the Ganges, a presumably dead maintenance worker lying motionless on the ground. But infested with monkeys.

I think Sue and I both made a fair show of feeding the monkeys. We obliged all of our guides requests to feed them this way, and that way. But we declined to antagonize them though he insisted that we should by withholding food when they tried to take it – apparently it would have been good fun.

At the top of the complex Beetlejuice recommended/insisted that I sit on the edge of a pergoda so that he could take some pictures of me getting bitten by a filth-ridden, rabid monkey with a gammy arm. And I obliged.

It bit me on the arm, superficial, not much to show for it, but it bled. We tried not to be too flamboyant about our concern, but we wanted to get this thing treated asap. ‘No, no, no, no. Is ok. This monkey not sick…’ our guide said as he scanned the area trying to work out which one it was. He tried to seem unconcerned and suggested a few remedies including spitting on it and rubbing it, and dipping it in the magic Ganges water, but at the same time made a beeline to the front gate. He stopped only to suggest I might like to hold a cobra (it actually was quite tempting to be honest) and also to take us to his friend from Scandanavia who was an out-of-his-tree drug dealer perched in a car out the front gate (the introduction was a little awkward and lasted too long).

The rest of the afternoon was spent in search of hospitals and doctors around Jaipur. Vikas came into his element and did everything he could to ensure we were looked after and to reassure Sue. Plus 100 points for Vikas.

Once all the shots and treatment for that day were taken care of, we were taken to the factory of a friend of Vikas who made ‘textile-something’. Minus 50 points for Vikas. We were not released until they were sure we would not spend another cent some 3 hours later. It was at the end of our ‘shopping’ excursion, when I went to pay the ransome, that I realized that my credit card was missing (and subsequently, $35,000 Rupees).

By this stage it was almost 11pm, still at the textiles shop, when Vikas appeared with tepid Tandoori chicken in a used crisps bag and a bottle of beer. Plus 50 points from Aaron. We were starving by this stage and our nerves frayed, so even Sue was up for our lukewarm treat. Even when Vikas insisted on feeding us by hand. Points withheld.
Before too much longer my birthday was finally over. The aftermath of my monkey encounter, however, would last for the rest of our trip as I lost days in search of my follow up vaccinations in London, Barcelona, Amsterdam, and finally, Australia.

PS. If you are bitten by a potentially rabid monkey in a third world country, DO NOT lighten the mood for your grief-stricken wife by biting her (a little too hard).