In a broader sense, they're just really distant cousins

Grizzo has claimed territorial blogging rights on our trip to a little island called Miyajima, except for one particular episode. He was to write The Miyajima Entry and say, "Then something happened which gcb will tell you all about in the next entry." Instead, he's going to have to write, "This is where the last entry by gcb took place, I'll skip to the end."

On to the story.

The setting will become clearer during Grizzo's entry, but basically we ended up near the top of one of the peaks of Miyajima, which is basically a huge hill rising out of the sea. Our plan was to check out the viewpoint here, then hike down the gigantic hill through the lovely natural environment and maybe see a few sites, if the walk didn't look too daunting.

It should be noted that I was quite determined not to be daunted, since it cost money to get down the hill the way we came up, and I like to save my money for things like the whiskey vending machine in our hostel.

The first things we saw as we arrived in the viewpoint area were some hilarious signs:



Could you make those out? Read all of them, and do note the art.

Okay, now, we had already met some interesting animals on this island, which you'll have to wait for Grizzo to write about, but we had no idea there were any monkeys around. Especially not ones that had learned the subtle arts of pocket-picking, obesity guilt, and over-reacting to a little eye-contact.

Our initial reaction, of course, was to repress our laughter so as not to offend any locals who might be around. I mean local people, not monkeys. Well, the monkeys too- that arm-biting image *was* a little intimidating.

Anyway, we secured our wallets and made our way the 10 meters to the viewpoint, which was lovely:






While there, we heard the monkeys, but did not see them. As we turned about to check out the downhill-paths, however, we realized that the little fellows were right in front of us, they just blend in with their surroundings. We quickly realized, though, that the cute little guys were hanging around all over.

Clearly, we weren't shy about getting a few photos of these guys. Well, anyway, *I* wasn't, as I had my camera out and Grizzo kept prodding me down the hill, telling me to leave the monkeys alone. Which, given the rare opportunity to check out mostly-harmless monkeys in the wild, sort of confused me.

Grizzo tried to get me back on the assisted-transport down the hill, but I pointed to a Japanese lady who was leading her clearly elderly mother down the start of the hiking path, and he agreed to see how it looked.

As we entered a bit of foliage-ceilinged path, Grizzo again expressed reluctance to hike down the hill, but I bullied him into moving along.

Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he stopped me and said, "Look, gcb, I need to tell you something. I'm afraid of monkeys. I just found out."

I responded as any good friend would: I laughed in his face.

Which made him laugh too, and then we discussed briefly the implications of, "We do not like to be stared at our eyes. If you do so, we are not responsible for what will happen." Then we moved onto discussions of our 'gameplan' should a monkey actually attack. I laughingly suggested using Dan Roisman's anti-dog strategy, while Grizzo boastfully assured me, "I'll boot a monkey. I'll boot a monkey."

We giggled about our plan and started moving again. Silence had just fallen over us when a great crashing sound above our heads startled us and drew our eyes to a large beast bursting from the trees ten feet up on the left side of the path. I flinched back a bit before I realized that it was just a really big black crow, similar to others we had seen in Japan, taking flight just as we passed below.

Grizzo did not recognize it as a crow. He was convinced that the monkey assault had begun, and hit the deck with terrified abandon.

To my unparalleled delight. I hope someone was walking down the path behind us to see Grizzo on his back, knees in the air, with me next to him, doubled over, both of us roaring with laughter. What ever must they have thought?

And now back to Grizzo's regularly scheduled blog entry.