Banana Economics
Today, I was scammed by a monkey.
Yes, you read that correctly. A monkey.
It’s embarrassing to admit—mostly because the story makes the monkey seem like the more evolved of the two of us—but honesty compels me. Also, it’s a good story.
We were visiting the ancient palace-fort of Sigiriya in Sri Lanka. I’ll write more about that later. For now, all you need to know is that at 7 a.m. there were a lot of tourists and a lot of monkeys wandering around on top of a massive rock.
I was happily taking photos of the monkeys. Because monkeys are cute. And entertaining. And clearly harmless. (See photos.)
Finished shooting, I stood up and turned to move on. That’s when the largest monkey in the area sprinted over, reached into the side pocket of my backpack, and pulled out the case containing my cycling glasses. He snarled.
I reached for them.
He bared his teeth and hissed.
The little shit.
This was day one of our 2 week cycling tour – our first outing. Those glasses are expensive. And I need them. I tried again. Same result—except this time he stepped closer and really committed to the intimidation.
Meanwhile, the crowd was loving it. I’m almost certainly the star of someone’s Instagram or Tik Tok reel by now.
Then a voice from the audience offered some clarity:
“He wants you to trade food for the glasses.”
Wait—what? I have to negotiate with a monkey?
Defeated but desperate, I pulled a banana from my backpack and held it up, using what I can only describe as extremely basic sign language to propose a deal: banana for glasses.
He considered this. So did several other monkeys, who began closing in.
The big guy dropped my glasses onto a ledge behind him and started advancing toward the banana. I yelled for someone to grab the glasses. A man heroically fished them out using his selfie stick. I tossed the banana, watched the monkeys fight over it, thanked my rescuer, and quietly slunk away, glasses now buried deep in my backpack.
Outwitted.
Humbled.
Travel has a way of reminding you that confidence is optional, control is an illusion, and sometimes you’re just another visitor negotiating your place in the food chain.
