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.