bedridden

Well it's official. I'm stuck Resting Icing Compressing and Elevating while in Bali, the beautiful island getaway where surf sun and sand are the obvious of avenues to a good day. Unless you have a sprained ankle and infected wounds from your genius attempt at experience. So, in short: ankle = bad; Bali = good; bad ankle in Bali = really bad; good friends made who have an air conditioned apartment and Mac book and free internet = not too shabby. Plus they surf all the time anyway so I don't feel like I'm getting in the way. More time to blog! I was chatting with a friend today and went to refer to a link I had posted a few posts ago,  and couldn't remember the name of my own damned blog to type into the browser. Yes, I'm that bad. Good thing is that it's only because I've been having such a good time. So now I have ben able to skype my family a few times, a few friends, I realize it's time to get back on the blog wagon. Also, Andrea has started a blog of her very own (see my blog roll, upper right corner) and I realized while reading her first few posts how happy it made me to "hear" her voice. I should get back to mine, I thought. 

So here I am. In Bali. In a villa in Seminyak, which is adjacent to Kuta, southern Bali, Indonesia. Which, to my surprise (and Zach's, I was talking to him when I wikipedia'd Indonesia), has the 4th largest populous in the world. Crazy, right? Fun little factoid. Bali itself is not super over crowded, and I'm in probably the "worst" area, w/r/t crowds and tourists. However, I am experiencing a healthy shock to how western it feels. Everywhere you look there are white faces, and english spoken. Aussies EVERYWHERE. It's so close to Australia (it was 5 hours from Melbourne) that the Australians visit all the time, much like we visit Mexico. Well... we Californians, anyway. It's much cheaper, little to no restrictions on drinking, it's got great surf, it's beautiful culturally and aesthetically, plus the people are generally very friendly (although "don't fuck with the Indos" has been established as law). It's got the "no worries" vibe of down under, with less accountability. Why not visit? Or, as in my friends' cases, relocate. Plus Australia is on a huge break for Easter (2 weeks), making it more crowded and crazy than usual. Apparently.

We spent the first two nights in Kuta, doing the dance club and shopping portion of our trip, before we were to go see the rest of the island. On day three we went to Uluwatu, about an hour south of Kuta, where there is great surf and is much more quiet and mellow than hectic Kuta. This is the day where we decided to rent motorbikes, and I got into my accident. It's not only tough to be in a foreign country and be injured, but as I soon realized it is tough to be with travelers. We're all on vacation, having a good time, and when there is a man down situation, nobody wants to be slowed down. It felt pretty shitty to have the girl I was traveling with be annoyed with my disability, and not hide her disdain. I was told to get over it and deal with it, stop complaining (I wasn't), and effectively have been left behind. It's alright though, I am happier healing in peace and quiet than feeling both like an anchor and prima-donna. I wouldn't expect her to be burdened with my problem, but a little respect/consideration would be nice... anyway. If she and the girls we met up with are out of town then I can meet up with them when able to keep up the pace. The interesting thing is that the one I came with was terrible, while her friends we met up with were alright, but with my travel buddy acting as my ambassador... I'm pretty sure they think I'm someone else completely (along the lines of a drama queen and attention whore... her words). If nothing else, it's made me realize how spoiled I am with the amazing friends I have at home!!

The people I have met in Bali have been great. So don't worry, I'm in good hands. They live in the Villa Bunga, where we are staying. So cheap and really small, with a pool and spa and small staff who have all come to my rescue. Putu is a woman who works in the spa and has tended to my wounds with "chinese medicine." Her english isn't so good, so when she brought me the bottle and said it would help, and I asked what it was, she said, "Chinese medicine." Ok... but what does it do? "Chinese medicine." Is it for open wounds or just scars? Pain? Antiseptic? "Chinese medicine." haha. Ok. I'll take it. As for the boys, Kama is from Oahu, and Mario is from northern Spain. They both live here 6 months out of the year and export and build furniture to sell in their respective homelands. Sweet life... 6 months of surf and Bali then 6 months in other amazing places... I think I might need to look into this lifestyle. Anyone interested in starting up an import store? :) They've opened up their places and computers and connections to us all, gracious hosts and good "doctors" ... so even though the girls have gone on to Ubud, I have a better support system here in Seminyak. The girls will be back to being my bff's once I'm no longer a buzz kill. *yay* 

I'm disappointed I don't get to see the rest of the Island, but I think it will be alright towards the end. I'm here for a grand total of two weeks, and I think towards the end I will be alright to take a day trip or two. The whole thing can be seen in a day, technically. On Tuesday we will be going to Lombock, an Island right next to Bali that is much more rural and submerged in nature. There are going to be waves there next week, so the guys will take us to their place out there and we can tag along. Too easy! Back to Bali on Thursday, then back to Australia on Saturday... unless I decide to stay a bit longer. If my track record is any indicator of the future, then I reckon I'll still be here after they all leave. 

I will be able to post more now that I'm bed ridden and have access to a computer and free internet, but because I'm bed ridden and spending so much time on the computer I won't have as much to write about! But I think I owe it to myself and everyone who said they liked reading about my travels to write about some things in retrospect. I miss you all terribly and will spend the afternoon and evening picking out the best stories to tell you about from the last few months. 

xoxo

bali owie

I walked up to the teenager nursing her toddler, trailing blood behind me. I didn't waste time apologizing for the intrusion, or other such niceties I would usually undergo. The shock was beginning to wear off. I was putting all my energy in trying my best not to cry. "Do you have any water?" a voice that resembled mine sounded. Yoga breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth, audible, centering, fuck my leg hurts. Repeat. The teenager's dark eyes scanned me from chest to body to feet to body to neck in a way that I was familiar with, but the horrified expression was incongruous with the action I'd experienced before. My reflection in her grimace frightened me. Unnecessarily, I resorted to pantomime. "Do you," [point at her once per syllable] "have any disinfectant? Cleaner?" [Salt shaker, wax on, wax off.] She plucked the toddler off her tit and set him on the floor. He began to wince and cry, until he saw the mess I was in. Then he just gaped. I was in my bikini, and covered in dirt and leaves. My knee was an open wound, the blood from which coalesced into the gash on my ankle and foot. My shorts were dirty and ripped, matching my hands. I didn't know where the others were, but am pretty sure I didn't even think about it once. I just wanted to make sure there was no gangrene or amputation in my foreseeable future. I need to get clean.

The teenager disappeared behind the hut with child, and I hobbled to the steps in front of my 10$ a night beach front cottage, adjacent to the infinity pool here in Uluwatu, Indonesia. The silence was the exact opposite of calming. The wind mildly rustled the trees, in the same fashion I had remarked upon and admired only hours earlier. The waves crashed down the hill, the surf was up and the boys were out. I tried to deep breathe again. Closed my eyes. Calm. Bring calm within. It started to hurt more than anything I have ever experience in my entire 25 years of life - it exceeded my threshold tenfold. As the pain increased exponentially, the control I kept over my emotion was inversely proportional... tears, hysteria, the lot. Nobody around to be brave for. Mom and dad popped into my head, what they'd be doing to help, to calm me down, to fix the problem. While it wasn't a choice, it didn't help things at all. This really sucks.

The girl came back with a pail of boiling water, a roll of toilet paper, and some limes. Not exactly mom and dad's remedy for a skinned knee, but I knew it would help. My friends came back within a short time with salt and iodine, and a handful of small sized band aids... it was all they could find. OF COURSE I had to leave all my first-aid (from when I fell in Siem Reap) back in Australia, that stupid space wasting bag I've lugged around since November. Of course. Murphy's Law, I hate you. They got me a shot of Bourbon, and helped attend to my wounds. It was more like torturing me, but we all had a good giggle at parts. I also discovered it is entirely possible to laugh really hard and cry hysterically at the same time, a really strange experience. It was almost as bizarre as trying to piece together exactly what had happened, through all our perspectives came a mosaic of a story -- motorbike, my small hands and having difficulty brake and accelerating, the turn across traffic, the steep hill, the trees and leaves, the skid, lifintg the bike off of me, the man with the cart who came out of nowhere, the blood, the walk back, the laughs and attempts at "shaking it off," the shock, the aftershock... I'm still not entirely sure I know what happened or how. A ride back from the beach turned ugly in the blink of an eye. I was just so relieved, knowing it could have been so much worse.

The humidity here will pose a problem, as nothing dries - skin included. Everyone passing by has their own ideas for how I should proceed, all of which are pretty interesting. If nothing else it's a conversation starter. It still really hurts, this morning I woke up at 7 am because the sheet was touching my leg and it hurt, I hobble and can't go to the beach just yet. Salt water should help once it's somewhat healed. It keeps oozing at this point and I just am hoping it'll dry out enough to get some sort of scab on it. Other than the wreck, Bali has been amazing. It's people are so gentle, the weather is hot and humid and sunny and lovely, the water is emerald and the surfers are aplenty. I'm just going to have to avoid the motorbikes from now on, or at least the driving part. I've already hitched two rides on the back of them, it's kinda necessary here. Lots of hills and nothing between the beaches.