[Good and bad] I know, cliche.
Graphic, I know. My apologies if you throw up. I nearly did.
Yet, I have never believed things happen in my life because of universal law or principal or probability. Accidents do happen, but there is something to be learned from every experience. It's the way I cope.
It was a beautiful morning. I had just finished coffee and some oatmeal while Gunung Lesong stood in the distance from my balcony view. I packed my bag and set out for the open road. Time to leave one mountain village for another.
However, my trip would prove to be a difficult challenge as there is no banjar (major road) that easily connects Danur Bratan to Gunung Batur. Only teeny tiny farm roads and long spiraling roads plummeting to sea level. Oh boy.
The drive started out well as I headed to my one of my dream locations: Pura Ulun Danu Bratan. This temple inspired my trip to Bali as the temple majestically towers above the water amid a mountainous backdrop. The temple is completely surrounded by water and locals visit the island to bring offering so that water remains plentiful for farmers.
There she stands; beautiful as ever, a goddess to the waters.
The mountains peek from behind the temple gates.
The visit was surreal and breathtaking all at once. Even though the park was beginning to fill with tourists from afar, there was a heavy peace still lingering in the air from the morning ceremony. A few foreigners asked me to take a picture with them which I found strange at first and I hesitated, but then they reassured me it was because I was a beautiful American girl. [gush] 'Okay! Oh you have a selfie stick too? Even better.' I retorted to myself with a tinge of snark.
Companionship comes in the strangest forms...but I'll take it.
Back to the open road! After dodging a few sneaky police men hiding under the banyan tree outside the park, I was soon on my way to the 'road never travelled.' [Lonely planet: Bali & Lombok, pg. 249]
This supposed 'road' is rather a series of smaller roads that connect the two central mountain regions. The reason it's rarely traveled? Because a) you will either plummet to your death or crash if not careful on the turns or b) it's a pain in the butt to descend, turn, brake, descend, turn, brake...repeat for 6km.
Not to mention, you leave the nice, smooth paved roads in turn for gravel. Lots of gravel.
I made it out of the hills alive. In fact, I became a pro at turning, bobbing and weaving through the rice fields. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous and it made me forget I had a destination. Village after village, the farms outstretched for kilometers beyond the horizon.
I was driving carefully along a small road on a straight path. Grateful that I was finally finished turning and braking, I thought I had a smooth ride ahead of myself until I saw a construction site in front of the temple directly ahead.
Do you ever have those moments where the worst case scenario plays out before you only milliseconds before it actually does happen?
My worst case scenario: hitting a patch of loose gravel at the right spot, causing my front wheel to slip and turn, fish tailing my scooter up and over the additional speed bump while I fly overhead and crash...hard onto a gravel road.
That is exactly what happened after it flashed in my mind. Breathe, you're gonna crash, but you will be okay. My inner voice whispered quietly. "Wait, what?!" I screamed aloud.
[Cue crash + tons of wailing]
As I lay pinned beneath my motorbike, tears began pouring immediately as the pain and adrenaline rushed through every vein and nerve in my body. My mind screamed to my legs to move but I couldn't because I was trapped in a weird place where my ankle was twisted under the wheel.
Cars passed. To my left. To my right. People even honked. I watched cars of foreigners drive right past me. I'm not even joking. Where is the allegiance? Where is the humanity? What is wrong with you people?
I sobbed. I wept. I screamed curse words to the sky. Finally, two beautiful Balinese women appeared overhead and, with pure hearts, they rushed to my aid. One lifted the motorbike off my legs and the other helped me to my feet.
"Oh my word," one gasped as she brought her hand to her mouth as the other held my arm. Blood gushed from my elbow, knees, and ankle. Great. I hobbled to my pack and took out my trusty first aid kid that I happened to restock before the trip. Iodine, check. Bandages, check. Medical tape, check. IB profeun, check. Thank God.
My newfound rescuers cleaned and bandaged my wounds with the utmost gentle and loving care. My mom (a nurse) would have been proud of the way they cared after me. One girl checked my bike over to make sure no fluids were leaking, that I had air in my tires, and they helped me start the engine again. They gave me a pair of gloves to keep the bandages on my hands while I drove. The kindness in their eyes, hearts, and actions turned about my faith in humanity. Grace restored.
They wished me safe travels and before I could respond, they were off in the distance.
Everything happens for a reason.
After gathering what little courage I had left, I roared the engine and puttered the rest of the road to Pelaga, another small village known for coffee and cinnamon.
The town smelled incredible. I felt as though I was sitting in my grandmother's kitchen, watching her effortlessly bake her infamous Snickerdoodle cookies. My mouth watered at the scent [cinnamon being my favorite spice] and hunger rumbled in my belly. Feeling the stress from the accident, I decided it was a good idea to pull over and find lunch of some sort.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a sign that read: Bali EcoVillage. Curiosity settled in quickly and I pulled over to park my bike next to the village temple. Looking down at the path before me, I cringed as pain trickled from ankle upward. Hoping the walk would be good for me, I set out for the village [and telling the pain to shove it].
2km and several cows later, I came upon a beautiful looking resort with Balinese huts standing amidst a lush green forest. Worth every pain-staking step.
I hobbled inside one of the larger open air huts to find a gorgeous interior: strong wooden tables and chairs, natural hardwood floors, comfortable cushions, and white flowy curtains hung from the windows. A perfect Bali setting for relaxation, rejuvenation, and restoration of mind, body, and soul. [Or so it read on the chalkboard]
Quickly shown to a table adjoined to a beautiful couple, the staff person asked me what I'd like for lunch. The young couple piped with a German accent, "Zhou have to go for ze ravioli...it's simply vonderful." I nodded to their suggestion and motioned to the young woman that the ravioli was indeed what I wanted.
Conversation soon ensued with the German couple. "Vhere are zou from?" asked the gentle woman. I studied her features and relaxed composition. I could tell she was a Yogi.
"I am from America, but I've spent the last year in Korea as an English teacher. I'm on a mini-retirement until I go home to Minnesota." I gave my usual spiel as it was the 20th time I've been asked since arriving in Bali.
The kind man spoke up, "Ahhh! Korea! Ve alvays vanted to visit there. Vhat do you think of it?"
"It's wonderful. The people, the food, and the mountains are incredible. The children...well, you learn to love them." I laughed gently as it was true for me during my first semester of teaching. The couple laughed and smiled in return. I asked them about their life story, and this is what I got in return: they quit their high-paying corporate jobs, sold all of their possessions, packed their life into two backpacks [total], and committed to a life of zen and spiritual awareness as Yogis. They've taught Yoga in over 20 different locations, including exotic locations such as Bali, Thailand, Australia, and Malaysia. They were contracted to teach Yoga at the EcoVillage for six weeks, then they would move to southern Bali again.
My eyes widened and glistened as their too-good-to-be-true life enlightened my heart. I've always wanted to find the courage where I could just pack up my life and set out for my dreams. Their story gave me hope and a gentle nudge toward chasing my dreams.
Our conversation was briefly interrupted by this wonderful artwork on a plate: Spinach ravioli with fresh organic tomatoes and soft, tasty garlic bread. Heaven on a plate.
After wolfing down my lunch, Luis and Luna agreed to re-bandage my motorbike wounds. Their first-aid kit made mine look humble in comparison, but it didn't matter as they generously offered some larger bandages and iodine to finish my trip. Heart swell. Tears formed in my eyes and I graciously thanked them for showing such compassion.
"Give out into the world as what you will someday want to be returned onto you." Luis gently spoke as he wrapped my ankle. My heart would forever be touched by this couple; their love for life, their positive energy, their smile, their genuine love for each other and humanity. Good things can come from bad circumstances. This was my reason.
"Live for the little things because they will make you realize that this is what life is about; this is what it means to be alive.
Take the road less travelled; to see not with your eyes, but your heart."
-a note that resonated with me found in the guest book.
Namaste.
