When Ms. Adventure becomes Misadventure

If you’ve ever been to Bali, you’ve probably noticed the sidewalks. They’re basically terracotta slabs fitted over drainage ditches.  The slabs are frequently askew or missing altogether.  It is precisely this situation that led to my first brush with the Indonesian medical system.

Jessica and I were off to check out the elephant caves, an ancient Buddhist hermitage just outside of Ubud.  As is typical of us, we decided to walk the two kilometres, despite the less-than-ideal road conditions.  Being our usual bloody-minded selves, we continued despite the occasional missing sidewalk or construction site requiring trudging through.  We were probably about three fourths of the way there when I decided to consult the map as we walked.  Rookie error.

Missing slabs in a sidewalk that hovers over a drainage ditch makes for giant holes in the sidewalk.  Yes, I fell through the sidewalk while trying to read a map and walk at the same time.  Blood ensued.  I’ll spare you the gory details, but let it suffice to say that I can probably rely on discounted pedicures going forward.  Jess and I finally caved and took a cab back to our villa, where we poured filtered water and hydrogen peroxide on my wound and wondered if I needed stitches. 

I did finally go to the doctor, ironically riding on the back of a scooter without a helmet, which is completely terrifying in a country that relies more on intuition than traffic laws and/or looking where you’re going.  The lovely Dr. Made cleaned up my cut and checked if I’d broken my foot.  She doesn’t think I broke any bones (after a thorough punching of my poor foot) but she was able to disinfect my toe and teach me how to change my bandage.  It was so worth going to the doctor just for that.

Just to add insult to injury, by the way, I’m now on my way to some insane beaches – apparently turquoise, bathtub warm seas and crazy snorkeling.  This would all be great, except I’m not allowed to get my foot wet.  I love my life sometimes. 

I hope you all are enjoying your own adventures and misadventures!  See you in May.

Nyepi in Bali!

Wow.  I’m currently writing this from a room in Legion on the famous and heavily-touristed island of Bali, Indonesia.  I don’t have internet, so by the time you see this post I’m guaranteed to be somewhere else entirely.  As for that initial wow, that’s about all I have to say so far.

We happened to arrive in Bali on the 22^nd of March, which this year was the eve of Nyepi, the Hindu New Year.  That was yesterday, and it was pretty cool, actually.  Locals carried elaborate floats down the street in seemingly endless parades while clanging on gongs and banging drums.  It’s all part of a gambit to make as much noise as possible in order to scare away any demons.  The floats themselves, carried by gangs of thrilled-to-be-up-this-late schoolchildren, all depict blood-thirsty demons in horrifying detail and epic size.  Paper-mache innards are hurtled, tridents spear the innocent, and eye-balls are caught in bloody mid-pop.  Seems a pretty fair go to try and scare these things away, right?  I certainly don’t want any flying tri-breasted snake creatures in my room at night.

The downside to all of this is that today is, by law, quiet day.  No one is allowed to leave their homes, and electricity and even speaking are technically illegal.  This ban extends to tourists – Jess and I have been reduced to sneaking down a back alley and into the grounds of a nearby hotel for meals, meanwhile hiding out in our own room.  The staffers have the air of co-conspirators – they whisper us into their hotel and winkingly point out the best way to get back to our own.  It’s actually been kind of fun, feeling like a pair of fugitives forced to sneak around for a bit of pineapple juice and an omelette.  Regardless, I think we’re both looking forward to being allowed back on the streets again tomorrow. 

So what’s one to do on quiet day when confined to a tiny and admittedly kind of dirty hotel room?  Draw pictures in paint, obviously.   I leave you with the bravery of Jessica, me, and our friend Tayelor fighting a terrifying Macaque.

goon!

What’s up two blog posts in three days!  You guys love me right?  The adoring public lays roses at my feet for bothering to actually write something.  In truth, my neglect has been less to do with an apathetic writer’s block and more to do with the cost of internet, but nonetheless.  One thing about leaving this baby alone for a bit is that I’m ready to cough up some pretty good anecdotes and images.

First I need to tell you about our beverage of choice.  For those of you that haven’t tried goon, it’s a fairly horrific and incredibly cheap wine that comes in a box.  For those of you that have tried it, I’m sorry.  Any kitchen party at any hostel in Australia is replete with a table full of goon boxes.  We’ve tried various methods to make it more palatable.  Adding lime cordial is a favourite so far, while doing it in shots just really didn’t work. 

It’s both a bit funny and bit sad that one of the primary things I’ll remember about backpacking in Australia is a box of absolute piss, but it’s kind of come to represent something quintessential about travelling.  You drink the terrible white wine around the table with everyone else, and it just doesn’t matter.  You’re too busy laughing and playing cards to worry about your shitty drink.  It’s sort of the great equalizer of the backpacking world.  We’re all poor as shit, and it doesn’t matter because we’re all nearing the apex of the happiest we’ve ever been.  It’s something we don’t see a lot in our day-to-day lives, but the juxtaposition of brokenness and constant grins is kind of wonderful.

Byron Bay and Burleigh Heads!

We’re finally free of Sydney and everything that came along with it – weddings, Australians, wearing clean clothing – and have moved on.  We’re amongst other backpackers now for the first time in the six weeks we’ve been in Australia.  The last six days were spent in the frenetic little surf town of Byron Bay, charming in all aspects except perhaps its full-to-the-brimness.  The town is teeming with backpackers and accents and dreadlocks.  All these things are lovely in their own ways, but it’s a bit exhausting to feel like just another one of ten thousand.  We met six or seven different people from Kelowna just in our hostel, to give you an idea.  Byron Bay introduced us to the relative joys of goon – 4.4 litres of wine sold in a box for 11 dollars. (!!!) Goon is the universal backpacker drink and definitely played a part in a few late nights lying on our backs in the sand on the beach, listening to music and staring at the stars.  It also played a part in the giant bruise on my shin from slipping off the insane metal picnic tables that fill the dance floor at the backpackers bar.  Not my scene.  

We met a few really lovely girls from Kelowna at our hostel and have since moved on to the tiny beachside town of Burleigh Heads with them.  We’ve rented a gorgeous two bedroom apartment between five girls for the week.  It’s a deal and we have a fully equipped kitchen, living room, balcony, and view of the ocean!  Burleigh Heads is tiny and sunny and just outside the apparently gaudy and over-developed (but nonetheless very popular) city of Surfer’s Paradise.  I think its going to be a beautiful quiet little week of swimming in the ocean and eating right after a few too many nights out in Byron Bay.  I’m looking forward to seven days of rest and girl time before I head to Noosa by myself for a few days.  Once again but no less sincerely, I miss you all.  I hope spring in Canada is treating you as gorgeously as early fall is us here in Australia.

apparently this is one of the most scenic sites in Australia but it rained so hard that it was impossible to see past the end of your arm.  So, just me in the picture then.

Chief Biologist Jessica is in charge of capturing bathroom frogs.

motorcycle sidecar trip, no bigs.

this night did not end well.

Uh, matching hair!

turns out we still like each other?