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Story of Bali, Indonesia

the point of no return. "Seven thousand rupiahs you say again, as if not believing your own ears. "I will give you seven rupiahs."
It is now his turn to took stunned. "Nyonya no understand. I cannot sell at that price."
"And you do not understand - I don't want to buy at any price," you assure him with a smile.
He sees the joke, laughs with you, and talks of other things as he follows you through the door and walks a little way down the road with you. No longer are you buyer and seller - you are already old friends.
You have seen enough paintings for one morning - a sign points to The Monkey Forest. Why not take a look.
The track runs between rice paddies - lovely to look at - but lacking in shade - and the sun begins to remind you that the Equator is only seven little degrees away. You are just considering turning back when, miraculously beside you, is a young Balinese, who inquires, shyly, if you are going to The Monkey Forest, and do you mind if he walks with you. "You see," he explains. "I like to practice English. Also, I know all the monkeys, and can call them out of the trees for you."
Your new friend duly calls the monkeys - feeds them with corn he has thoughtfully brought, and shows you through the beautiful forest temple.
Before you leave you want to offer him a tip. "Oh no," he shakes his head and smiles, "not necessary. But now Nyonya has seen the monkeys - maybe Nyonya come and see my painting Not far, just other side of forest."
Can you tell him you'd rather look at a monkey than one of his paintings? Don't strain yourself - there's no prize for the answer.