My mom and I booked a combo tour to the zip line and Monkey Land. Both were built in the Dominican mountains by a tourism tycoon who owns Runners Tours.
My mom and I exited the rear of the van, walking past a patch of dark pink flowers and up to the three women sitting around the "lobby" area. Like most destinations we visited in the DR, this lobby was open on three sides, with only a back wall housing sparse merchandise and a roof to block out the sun. The laziest dog I'd ever seen was lying on the concrete, too hot and apathetic to look up at us as we entered.
The woman who ended up being our tour guide asked us a few questions and explained that the monkeys are very curious--so watch where you step and don't be alarmed if they grab your belongings. She inquired about our health and loaded us with hand sanitizer because "monkeys can get very sick, too."
Ordinarily the Monkey Land arena fills up with tours of 15-25 people. There are just a few tours a day, clocked around feeding time so that visitors can be sure to entice the squirrel monkeys with bowls of fruit.
Just the two of us plus the tour guide, my mom and I lucked into a VIP experience, with 30 minutes of unfettered joy. I seized the opportunity and asked the tour guide if we could leave the food behind when we walked in to see how the monkeys would react.
Immediately they descended from the treetops, ran across the wooden banisters, and jumped onto our heads and shoulders.
The tour guide had warned over and over about their undying curiosity, which they demonstrated by grabbing my sunglasses, pulling my hair, and trying to take out my phone from its armband. Curious myself at the reaction, I took out my phone to see what they would do. One monkey as vein as Narcissus couldn't take his eyes off himself in my iPhone's camera. I helped him out by pressing the button, capturing this monkey selfie:
My mom had to delicately drag me away when it was time to leave. Though I was the one to force her into the zip line adventure, she was the one pushing me towards it, otherwise we may have stayed at Monkey Land forever. It's just too cute to leave.
My mom and I exited the rear of the van, walking past a patch of dark pink flowers and up to the three women sitting around the "lobby" area. Like most destinations we visited in the DR, this lobby was open on three sides, with only a back wall housing sparse merchandise and a roof to block out the sun. The laziest dog I'd ever seen was lying on the concrete, too hot and apathetic to look up at us as we entered.
The woman who ended up being our tour guide asked us a few questions and explained that the monkeys are very curious--so watch where you step and don't be alarmed if they grab your belongings. She inquired about our health and loaded us with hand sanitizer because "monkeys can get very sick, too."
Ordinarily the Monkey Land arena fills up with tours of 15-25 people. There are just a few tours a day, clocked around feeding time so that visitors can be sure to entice the squirrel monkeys with bowls of fruit.
Just the two of us plus the tour guide, my mom and I lucked into a VIP experience, with 30 minutes of unfettered joy. I seized the opportunity and asked the tour guide if we could leave the food behind when we walked in to see how the monkeys would react.
Immediately they descended from the treetops, ran across the wooden banisters, and jumped onto our heads and shoulders.
The tour guide had warned over and over about their undying curiosity, which they demonstrated by grabbing my sunglasses, pulling my hair, and trying to take out my phone from its armband. Curious myself at the reaction, I took out my phone to see what they would do. One monkey as vein as Narcissus couldn't take his eyes off himself in my iPhone's camera. I helped him out by pressing the button, capturing this monkey selfie:
As the monkeys descended on me, I noticed how tiny their feet are, plush with natural padding like a baby's toes. Soft and very gentle, having six monkeys crawling all over you is a feeling of happiness akin to being licked to the floor by an endless sea of week-old puppies. Their bodies are tiny but their eyes are so wide, and they'll look right back at you, unafraid. One of the monkeys (pictured above) started nibbling on one of my fingers.
Sadly, I've had one or two experiences visiting zoos in developing nations that left me feeling hollow and angry over over the obvious neglect and confinement of the animals.
Nothing to me suggested these monkeys are underfed, or even under-loved. Our tour guide and her husband live on the property, working round the clock to care for the monkeys that the couple know both by name and by habit. The monkeys live outdoors--among real trees and brush--in a climate similar to their native habitat. With about six acres, the twenty or so monkeys have plenty of room to play.
Of course, with much larger groups--particularly with small children--I can imagine that the monkeys might get tripped over or prodded too often, but no more so than with a patient dog or cat. These are domesticated squirrel monkeys--sort of. One female was actually quite shy. When we did finally break out the food (various fruits, with bananas as the obvious favorite, plus juice-soaked dog food for extra vitamins) she would come grab a handful and then scurry across the wooden beam to eat in solitude.
In general, however, the monkeys were playful, friendly, and painfully adorable. Personally, I got a good kick out of two of them "cleaning" their food by rubbing it all over my mom's hair.
My mom had to delicately drag me away when it was time to leave. Though I was the one to force her into the zip line adventure, she was the one pushing me towards it, otherwise we may have stayed at Monkey Land forever. It's just too cute to leave.