Lust and Lychees at the Lopburi Monkey
Festival Written and Photographed by Anne Merritt
With a population of 300 000 people and 600 macaque monkeys,
the town Lopburi, Thailand, is a Rudyard Kipling fantasy. Located
between pulsing Bangkok and picturesque Chiang Mai, this town
draws a unique tourist crowd of animal lovers and straying-from-the-norm
types, keen for the unique "monkeytown" experience.
What is more eclectic than the primate population, however, is
the local festival in their honour. This takes place every November
in the form of a Versailles-worthy banquet prepared entirely for
the monkeys. For my friends and I, working as English teachers
in a nearby town, it was a must-see event.
It is said that centuries ago the monkeys were presented to the
town as a gift from Hanuman the monkey king, when the Hindu figure
Rama granted him rule of the area. It is also said that, mere
decades ago, the first monkey banquet was held by an eccentric
Japanese millionaire. His fondness for the animals led to the
sponsorship of this annual party. In Lopburi, offering food to
the monkeys brings good luck, while harming them causes ill fortune.
Judging from the gilded monkey statues that decorate the train
station, these primates have brought the town the gift of kitchy
celebrity.
When we arrived in town, we went straight for the monkey's urban
headquarters, Phra Prang Sam Yot, a Khmer-style temple whose brick
spires and Buddha statues serve as a monkey climbing gym. Around
us, fellow tourists stood camera-ready. The vibe was one of good-spirited
family fun, which was a relative rarity on the Thailand tourist
trail. After all, we had been living in Thailand for a while,
and seen our share of seedier tourism. But here, there were no
touts promoting sex shows, no retirees pawing young Thai girls,
no miniskirted women handing out flyers. While Thailand has a
reputation as a large-scale Sin City, the tourists in Lopburi
looked more like the type I used to see in Canada: patient, curious,
and keen on exotic animals. It all seemed so refreshingly simple.
Until the monkeys came.
In the temple, an opulent banquet lay spread out on the table.
There was grilled fish, fresh vegetables, boiled eggs, sticky
rice, all presented in pretty gold bowls adorned with fresh flowers.
Oddly, this food appeared intact. Odder still, there wasn't a
monkey to be seen. A screeching din led us outside the temple,
where the monkeys were eating, jumping and rolling like wind-up
toys. The ground was covered in cookie crumbs, globs of jelly,
banana peels and empty juice boxes. Like the carnage of a child's
birthday party, it looked like every dessert in the city had been
picked over by the monkeys, who were now scampering around and
bouncing wildly like sugar-drunk kids.
My friends and I moved closer, cameras ready, cooing over the
cuddly-looking animals. In a flash, a wide-eyed monkey grabbed
the Coke can out of Shannon's hand. One started ripping the shiny
beads off Natalie's sandals. Another had jumped onto Nicole's
shoulder, seeking her silver necklace with its teeth. As my friends
struggled to fend them off, I stepped back with my camera, laughing,
ready to capture the ambush. Before I knew it, I was wrestling
the camera from two little paws which had grabbed hold of its
strap. All around us, monkeys were clambering up the temple walls,
pulling each others' tails and scrapping, fighting over bits of
foods, humping at a frenzied pace. It was like watching a monkey
performance of A Clockwork Orange, and there was nothing to do
but hide our valuables and watch.
On previous visits to the temple, local children had accompanied
us through the ruins, swatting off the curious monkeys in exchange
for a few baht. This time, even the most patient of handlers couldn't
tame the sugar-fueled frenzy. Thais were smartly keeping their
distance, while foreign tourists stood agog. Near the gate, I
saw a French family staring as a male monkey grabbed a female
by the tail and reigned her in for some screeching copulation
on the temple steps. The two children winced as though witnessing
a fight.
This was a far cry from the kid-friendly zoos back home. All
around us the monkeys were eating, destroying, and fornicating.
And the funny thing was that we had come to Lopburi seeking out
a milder form of tourism, a change from Thailand's more hedonistic
offerings. But the monkeys were behaving, in fact, just like those
tourists we often saw, fat and drunk and Speedo-clad, occupying
the girly bars of Thailand's seedier beaches.
As I shooed away the monkey that was gnawing at my hair, I thought
that perhaps Thailand's reputation as a land of vices was undeserved.
At least, it shouldn't be condemned for its reputation. Watching
the bingeing monkeys running amok like living, breathing ids,
I thought perhaps it's not an issue of social behaviour and morality.
With a holiday, a bout of wealth, or a banquet, perhaps indulgence
like this is simply a matter of animal instinct.
Anne Merritt has
lived on three continents, and currently resides in South
Korea where she teaches English and writes. Her work has appeared
in The Antigonish Review and Other Voices, and she is a regular
contributor to the Asian travel site www.khaosanroad.com.
