Road Kill

I thought I would leave bad luck behind in Gili Menu but it stubbornly followed me to Bali. Still with some minor pain from my fall, I incurred more pain while traveling by ferry to Padangbai. Determined to enjoy my holiday at any cost, I made my way to the popular Kuta Beach area. There I spent a couple of fun days enjoying the familiar ocean city life with its myriad of restaurants, trendy shops, vibrant night life, and shirtless hotties. In search of culture and art, I made my way north to Ubud where my nagging wound continued to bleed. Determined to see some sights, I rented a motor bike to visit some temples and drive around the capital of Denpasar looking for the Citibank. Early on in the day trip, while lost and confused, I dropped the motorbike on my leg as I was turning, coincidently the already wounded leg. I must have been a pitiful sight as I laid on the street, tourist road kill. A group of men came over to lift the bike off me and I sat on the sidewalk, incredulous and embarrassed. After a few minutes of nodding off the concerned locals, I continued on to the next temples for my leg was only bleeding and hurting a little more than usual. After lunch I returned to my room to changed the dressing and continued on to Denpasar and Tanah Lot. On the way to the splashing but difficult to find sea Temple, I fortunately met and followed two band boys from Jakarta who were as lost as I but could at least understand the directions provided by the locals. We reached the overcrowded but must see tourist attraction in time for sunset and I was amused by the Indonesian tourists who were playfully running away from the ten foot waves as they crashed into the carved rock. Tired and with a sore leg, I rushed home to shower and rest.
The next morning I awoke with throbbing pain and unable to walk. I would spend the next few days mostly laying in bed with my leg up, laboriously getting up to go to the bathroom. The helpful man that worked at the Guest House willingly fetched me something to eat as I displayed my bleeding and now swollen wound. My neighbors provided some light conversation and consoling words. Once I was well enough to stand, I looked forward to going to the post office and out to eat. I attended some very expressive Balinese dance performances and fell in love with the entrancing chanting of the Kecak performers. Despite my bad luck, I loved the gallery filled streets of Ubud and its ubiquitous shops and restaurants, some even selling organic products and wheat grass juice. Even the Balinese macaques that attacked and scratched me during my visit to the monkey forest put by a slight damper to my visit to the Indiana Jones like temple. But wishing to start anew and forget about my haunting accidents, I traveled from Ubud to the quiet tourist town of Lovina where I spent most of my time by the beach at the Warung Rasta chatting with other backpackers and drinking by the bond fire. On a morning trip to see the towns premiere tourist attraction, I was disturbed by the noisy boats filled with tourists that relentlessly chased the numerous dolphins who make Lovina beach their home. Unable to swim or dive due to my healing gash, I became bored quite easily of the quite beach town and boarded an overnight bus in search of the raved about Bromo volcano.