Monkey business

"Elviii I can not talk right now, but I am at Macy's .... do you want me to buy that shirt you wanted with a monkey face?"
- asked Noa.

She went to look for a suit for her Wednesday's interview, but after hopelessly walking up and down the four floors of this consumer paradise she could not find what she was looking for. Not wanting to admit that the previous 4 hours were completely wasted she decided to save her sanity and brighten my day by buying the monkey face shirt that I am wearing to work today …

Monkey's have a special place in my life. Well, one monkey in particular....

* * * * * *
Costa Rica was beautiful and I've been enjoying every bit of it's "tico" culture revolving around Spanish houses, salsa, green jungle, blue waves, papaya/banana trees and casado (the traditional meal) until the time when we embarked on a motor boat to our next stop - Puerto Limon.

As the boat was happily crushing through the waves of the murky water, the group kept their eyes open for alligators with wide open jaws ready for a lunchtime snack.In the middle of our 3 hour journey the boat docked at a local watering hole. (Local may not be the most accurate description of the lonely standing shack in the middle of the jungle.)

Our group of about 30 hippies/adventurers/travelers and life lovers ran to sooth their thirst provoked by the burning yellow sun towards the establishment. I followed in their footsteps producing a few of my colons in exchange for a bottle of water.There weren't many attractions around unless I count the outhouse decorated by a world of newspaper cut-outs of various playboy looking bunnies without bikinis or much clothing. Sipping in the cooling water in a shadow of the shack, I realized that almost all of the group gathered around two tall trees and is playing with something .. I could hear cameras clicking .....

Elvi likes to be in the middle of the action and so I scurried towards the noise, where I found a poor monkey tied to a long rope fastened between two trees. The adventurers/hippies/travelers suddenly became tourists and were posing for pictures ... monkey as a baby, monkey on my shoulders, monkey picking out cooties from hair, monkey and a “my” smile ....

Now my turn came, however by this time the photo model changed personalities from playful nice little monkey to an annoyed and angry animal. During the last shot he revengefully stole a camera from the co-model/tourist, put it around his neck and was ready for another shot. Nothing is free these days, right? It’s monkey law in the jungle!
If there is no banana he’ll do with a camera …

I moved forward a bit scared picturing myself showing the heroic photo to all my friends at home. I really wanted that photo!
"Don't be scared, he is just like a baby”
(Sounded those encouraging words for the faint hearted … )

“Stretch your arms, he'll stretch his and will hug you like a baby! ... Elvi, he is just like a baby ... " As soon as I stretched my arms, the camera owner decided to take this window of opportunity trying to re-poses his most valuable belonging, while the monkey identified me as the robber and attacked accordingly! He plunged his teeth into my flesh and skin.

Blood started seeping through the monkey bite, I tried to let go but the his arms were just as a claw and would not let go .... the group dispersed in a second seeing the clash of interest ... After a few minutes of me playing brave and “my” monkey playing the stubborn he let go ….
…. but not before tasting the other hand ....

And so he was! A baby with sharp upper and lower teeth without cavities!

The group stared motionless and frozen under the hot sun. Mike, a park ranger from California was the only one who ran to help after monkey and I were separate again. He lay me down in a boat, poured some liquid on the wound ... A moment of hesitation followed whether to faint or not .... My first thought?

"Mike, will I get HIV from this? ... because if so I imagined it in a much more exciting way than this!!!"

Arriving to Puerto Limon I was told the bad news - I will need to seek a doctor and have my wounds sown together. Me? I never had anything broken, let alone bitten!

Doctor's office #1: A shack - almost similar to the "bar" in the jungle .. a note hanging on the door: "Out to lunch. Will be back at 3pm" ... It was 2 o'clock!

Doctor’s office #2: After hearing my monkey story the nurse smiled from ear to ear and turned us down.

Doctor's office #3: We were in luck! Seemingly a quiet place without a single patient. Sean, the driver explained what happened ... "I was MONO bitten" (mono is a monkey in Spanish) ...

The stubby little man smiled ... apparently it's rare occurrence even in TicoLand (Tico is a nickname for a person from Costa Rica). Before I could examine the doctor's office he showed me to the sink, where he stuck my wounds under the running water. He rubbed the half melted soap bar on both hands, then washed it away! (I later realized that this is called Costa Rican disinfection.)

Walking back to his office I also recognized why I was missing the notion of a sterile doctor’s office .. it’s not the smell! His desk was covered by a plastic glass, underneath were similar newspaper cutouts as in the jungle outhouse. While sitting there I discovered Samantha Fox on one of the pictures and other beauties that could easily get a job at Hooters. The three shelves were of no more medical comfort either - a shelf of gauze and two of a soda can collection that was so popular to accumulate during the Communism.

A few minutes later his helper returned from the pharmacy where he purchased a tetanus shot and a needle to saw my wounds. I was scared to ask whether he has an anesthetic (the answer may be negative!) ...

… turned my head away

… squeezed the bus driver and roared like a wounded lion with every stitch … the one when he lost the thread and the one when he yanked on the skin like as if sawing on a button on a winter coat (The cotton was too thick so he forced it ...).

About half an hour later I was ready ... two black stitches sticking out on my right hand and two on the left with multiple knots ...
"Gracias, doctor!"
... he answered something with big smile that I didn't understand ...
"Adios, If you survive send me a thank you card!" .. translated Sean ...


The story does not end ...
I arrived back in February to a snowy New York about 5 hours late with black nylon poking out from both my hands. Not a usual sight even on a New York City subway or the restaurant where I worked at that time. Reading through monkey bites literature I realized that I need a rabies shot! ... I started a search for a doctor ... there are about 10 million people here, but how many get bitten by a monkey in Manhattan?
I wondered …

Called million places ... listening to my story some of them, I felt, would have rather suggested a psychiatric institution than themselves ... another one left a message ...
"Miss, will be able to help just bring the animal" ...
Eventually I called the Bronx ZOO to no help.

My research lead me to identify the beast as a Central American spider monkey and eventually a traveler's clinique where I received 8 painful shots to avoid waking up one day and finding foam in my mouth ....