I wasn’t kidding when I said a well-trained dog. Just stick your arm out and Wally will approach looking to get a slippery brush across the side of his blue scaly body.

I, personally, was obsessed with this large tropical dog like fish. When I first offered him a pat he swam to my hand, but rather than letting me give him a brush across the side, he wrapped his lips around my now, very tense hand. I’m all too lucky he didn’t take a finger along with him, for Wally does have some teeth. Thankfully with all my digits in tact, I would follow him up and down the reef looking to get another encounter; but he was bored with me and swam to give some other snorkelers a chance to pat the famous Wally.

Try and search Wally the fish on the Internet and you’ll get a bunch of images of this extraordinary animal. Or better yet, come visit yourself in Wally’s fantastic home.

Dad and Tuck hanging out with Wally!

Wally likes to get really close to everyone!

I had gotten to the edge of the coral and from there it cut off, plummeting straight down into the sandy bottom that I could barely make out. I dared not go over the edge, I understood Nemo’s friends. Then, looking ahead, coming towards me, was a school of shiny green fish. The vast number of small bodies all swimming together was enough to make me hold my breath in wonder, though I noticed a few of them abruptly change their course of direction… and then their color. Soon, one after the other, each guy slowly began to go from green to blue following the newly set path. I didn’t understand. One of the Marine Biologists aboard the boat had said you could see these color-changing fish and it had sounded cool even then, but to actually witness it was beyond anything. The Great Barrier Reef just kept getting better and better. I wonder what next I’ll find….

It was cool to be this close to the fish!

I start to head down again, back to my life of solitary, but the land fish seem incessant on keeping me by their side. One of them, I notice, holds out a small rectangular box to me. I’m not used to all this attention. My instincts warn me that these land fish are no good and so I duck down again. No reason to start going against all my intuition now. They trail behind for a couple seconds, then gradually the water stills and I’m alone once more. Fading into the constant beating pulse of the ocean, I can’t help but wonder, what do the land fish think of me?

[Authors Note: turtle’s can get itches on their shells]

Not surprisingly, Bali had some very different birds then the Pacific Northwest. So, I was on a quest to find the ultimate exotic bird experience, and I found it…The Bali Bird Park . It is a bird sanctuary where they take in endangered species of birds, as well as feed and take care of many other birds like macaws, cockatoos and hornbills.

Mom, Tuck, Jones, Yve and I all made a day trip to the park. At the main entrance, some artfully colored macaws aggressively greeted us while perched on long branches looking over the pathway. About five minuets into our majestic stroll,  a man who worked at the park offered us a chance to hold a few macaws and some other exotic birds. They were surprisingly light, by the way.

We also came upon the endangered species of birds that were kept in an aviary. We walked in a circle around the aviary and were stopped by a flock of small parrots looking for some food. One was perched on the railing of the bridge and I stuck my hand out to offer him a ride. He hopped on, but he insisted to do so on my head.  I was later supplied with some pear to feed him and another bird hopped on the free pear express.

After we made our way out of the aviary, immediately outside, we saw a large group of ginormous storks cleaning the restaurant’s floor. I got the chance to throw them a couple of fish which they quickly scooped up into their large bills.

The Bali Bird Park was an experience that will stay with me beyond Bali, so I can tell Perry and Blizzard, my parakeets back home,  that they’re not the only colorful birds in the world

*****

I’m not sure what time it is when I step outside. The day has suddenly surrendered its light in exchange for a darkness that blankets the world around me in a snug embrace. On my shoulders rests a light scarf, which I readjust and pull closer as I walk over to the outside dining table. Mom and Wescott are already there. I take a sweeping gaze and look them each over. Deep in concentration they sit with shoulders hunched over opened laptops. There doesn’t seem to be a need for acknowledgments, so without lingering I unceremoniously take a chair and have a seat. Not five minutes have gone by when a faint plopping noise disrupts the relative silence. And along with it is an even fainter feeling of something touching my shoulder. Something, wet? Glancing across to Mom, I see no reaction or any subtle shift of emotion on her face.  No cognizance of any plopping noise.  So I decide to shrug off the whole thing, but a part of me dares to investigate.  That’s when I look up to the beamed roof sheltering the table and notice a pair of eyes staring down at me.

“Mom. Look up. That gecko just pooped on me.” I don’t know why I should be surprised though. We are in Bali.

“Oh yeah!?” Yeah mom, yeah. Laughter is heard from the other end of the table and I don’t need to turn to know that it’s Wescott.

The moment is then over and we go back to working like nothing ever happened. My fraction of annoyance vanishes as soon as it appeared and I hand Mom my now poopy scarf.

*****

Sand molds to the shape of her feet. An equatorial sun blazes down and from under the thatched roof where she sat, everything looked as though it was coated in a thick sheen of blinding white. It’s peaceful. Time seemed to move slowly. Everything was where it should be. Yet paradise came with a cost. She believed in that even more when occasional stabs of stinging would ring through to her nerves. Almost like a pinch or a pinprick. And as she focused in on that sudden sensation a tiny black dot appeared at the edges of her vision. Chasing the dot with her eyes, she found that when it moved it left behind in its wake a small itching bump. Ever so gracefully, with a flick of the wrist and a slight frown of disdain, she sent the black bug flying. After some time had gone by and more black dots appeared, a realization came that started at the ceiling. The bugs were falling; coming from above!

*****

It’s sticky. The air is heavy and thick. I can feel that beads of sweat are running down in rivulets on my body somewhere. Everywhere. The ghost of a draping mosquito net hangs overhead, encircling me in a white haze. I roll over on my left side. Long seconds pass before my eyes finally adjust to the gold morning light. A lone ant haphazardly makes its way across the mattress and stops just inches in front my face as if it could sense the impending doom that’ll send him crashing off the bed.  I’m about to try and get a few extra minutes of sleep when I remember the glass of water I had the night before. This, if nothing else, gets me up and rushing straight to the bathroom.  Once there, I foolishly spend no time to take in my surroundings. And so I’m left relieving myself when a light weight sends shivers racing up and down my spine.  Bending over I see an ant is crawling along my upper thigh, yet I’m still drowsy from the remnants of a lost sleep to make sense of it all.  I just brush him off without any dramatic displays and head to the sink.  My ant causalities haven’t passed, I find, in fact it looks like I might be in the very thick of it: on the walls, stretching over half the bathroom, into my bedroom, and across the floor to the balcony is one long giant ant trail.

*****

Her eyes flew open and immediately she wished she could crawl back into the safety of her dreams.  Outside the room was a cacophony threatening to distill inside her the calmness that comes with the beginning of a new day. Yet, this new day was one she knew she would rather skip.  The sounds were of obnoxious voices, heavy with misconceived pride, drowned by a layer of premeditated whines, and on top, struggling to own dominance, was another voice (or was it two?) straining with agitation and exasperation.  She wouldn’t let her morning start off like this.  So she waited until the noise had momentarily subsided and then forced herself out of bed.  When she entered the main living room, her eyes took on a foggy look and somehow she felt herself floating away—creating distance from the scene laid out before her.  There were four boys sprawled throughout the spacious room, but that didn’t make a difference. The walls were lopsided, seemingly about to cave in, and all of a sudden it became very crowded and she swore she could hear the noise again despite the lack of moving mouths.  Then, she understood.  Snapping back into reality she couldn’t help but laugh.  Those were all her brothers.

The monkey on hugs head looks like a hat.

This is a monkey climbing up gov to get the food he is holding.

Otto’s monkey was very chill.

Monkey and Wescott.

The monkey on my head wouldn’t get down for a long time

[If you missed Monkey Forest: Part 1, click here! ]