Monkey Park Iwatayama

Ever felt the irresistible urge to reach out and, y'know, feed a monkey?

Of course. We all have. I'm no exception. And that was precisely what I set out to do as I turned left, away from the Togetsukyo Bridge and started up the long, hot, weary climb up the side of Arashiyama.

Nice torii...

Taking the management's sound advice, I stopped at the front gate to (a) pay the ¥550 admission fee and (b) purchase a bottle of water and rehydrate. I had sweated buckets walking in the still moist heat from Arashiyama Station, and it looked like there was a sweaty climb ahead of me.

I won't go into detail here, but after a series of endless, muddy switchbacks, punctuated at points by fan-misters that the management had thoughtfully set up along the trail, my weary eyes at last beheld this prospect:

See the monkeys, man? SEE 'EM??

And let me tell you something: this park was really incredible, because monkeys. Monkeys everywhere. Short-tailed, brown-furred, pink-eyed Japanese macaques, also called snow monkeys.

I didn't pause to take any pictures outside; I wanted to get inside and cool off. My satchel and camera bag were stuck to my sides with sweat. I peeled them off, fanning myself furiously, and began to gaze around. I was in a large room with wooden benches and a high ceiling with bare rafters. There were large apertures in the wooden walls, encircling the room 180 degrees. Wire mesh was clamped to these empty spaces. From the mesh hung more monkeys. I turned around. Behind me, there was a counter, where a bored-looking woman was chopping up apples and bagging peanuts. Monkey food, the sign said, 100 yen.

Oh heck yeah.

So I forked over some dough, picked up a plastic baggie full of apple chunks, and then walked to the windows. What followed was sheer giggles with a side of glee.

After I'd sufficiently cooled down, I sallied back outside and got some snaps of the two things Iwatayama is most famous for: a spectacular view of the city of Kyoto below, and monkeys.

And more monkeys.

Monkeys napping!

Monkeys having accidents!

Old monkeys and young monkeys!

Monkeys going fishing!

Monkeys doing calisthenics!

Monkeys grooming monkeys!

Monkeys doing absolutely nothing!

People taking photos of monkeys!

Two monkeys at once!

More two monkeys at once!

Monkeypalooza!

Mad monkey mania!

[slap]

Whew, I needed that. Alright, I'll stop. The view was quite nice too:

Setting aside the grand vistas and the majestically murderous mob of maniacal, mawkish, memorable monkeys everywhere, there were also majestic, murderous, maniacal, mawkish, memorable monkeyshines. Such as...feeding time. An attendant showed up with a bucket and began scattering its contents all over creation, and the monkeys just mobbed him. I didn't get it. These damn macaques had been stuffing their faces at the windows all day, courtesy of yours truly. They were so gorged on apples and unshelled peanuts that I'm surprised they didn't fall out of the trees. Then the attendant went outside with his food-bucket and pandemonium broke loose (with the finale from Rossini's William Tell Overture playing on the loudspeakers).

Here's the aftermath:

And so, having completed my foray into Kyoto-overviewing and monkey-feeding, it was time to head back down to the suburb of Arashiyama and onto my next stop: SAGANO BAMBOO FOREST. Don't miss it. Unless you've been to a bamboo forest before, in which case you know perfectly well what's coming. In that case, you can slope off for a beer. G'wan, git!