I'd managed to get myself into a motorbike accident while in Bali. Don't ask me all the specifics as it was a flash. It wasn't particularly my fault, but I could've been a little more careful as well. I was thinking about just that, how I could've been more careful, as I took a deep breath and braced myself for the next pour. I didn't want to do it. I really really fucking didn't. I did it anyways... On the way home my wounds had merely stung, but when I found myself at my room it was a long time after that and the adrenaline had more than faded. I was beginning to feel everything all too clearly, which is why I'd gone into the closest convenience store, not bothering with a real pharmacy, hoping they would have the things I would need. They didn't sell any first aid materials, bandages, or whiskey (which would have been doubly useful). So I bought some dry facial wipes to dab at my wounds with throughout the night, as they were sure to ooze for that long at least. And I bought some Listorine, because it's an antiseptic as well as, interstingly enough, a floor cleaner.
So, there I was alone in a dark room and a foreign country learning a quick lesson about pain. Literally torture, like pouring acid into open wounds. Forget salt, this stuff was nasty horrid. Heed my advice, only as a last resort, a very very very last resort, should you use Listorine to clean a wound. All that said, I felt like I was in a Jason Borne movie or something. Injured in a foreign country and using my limited materials to clean and bandage my wound. Not counting the searing pain, it was actually really fun.
This being said and done, I'd planned on spending the rest of my time in Bali laid up in bed recouperating and reading. Which is awesome in it's own right. Sometimes it's hard to find an excuse to dim the lights, lock the door, and just read for three days straight. Except, as with every plan I've ever been within twelve feet of, that's not how it went down. Eventually I had to make my limping way out of my room for food and maybe some real medical materials. I was immediately confronted by an inflatable alligator and three Germans. Sandra (Gigi), Lisa, and Magnus. The alligator also had a name, but I only new him shortly so I'll refrain from getting him tangled up in this story.
Simply put, they had an infectious childlike exhuberance. They were mid pool party when I entered the scene and while I couldn't join them in some of the more physical exhertions I could join in the drinking. Which is the most important part I think. What I can say is the rest of my time spent in Bali was quite nice. We stayed up at least most the night that day and the next held even more shenanigans. I won't claim to remember it all, but I vaguely remember throwing back the long island iced teas and dancing in a cage at some point. It was beautiful and fun. Most of my remaining time spent in Bali was with those three and it was really really lovely.
All said and done, everything was AMAZING. Meeting the Germans, as well as getting into the motorbike accident. Little did I know, but that crash was one of the better things that could've happened to me. It was an eye opener in a way, but not in the way you think and by all means I do not mean the things I'm about to say in condescending or offensive manner. The thing is just that... I realized that day, when I got into the crash, that my life had become mundane. That my life has been boring me. It'd been bothering me in the back of my mind and I had been unawares of what had been bothering me until this incident finally made me realize what it was. That there have been no real real surprises for me in a long long time. I'm not saying traveling isn't incredible and isn't amazing and isn't the lifeblood of a subclass of human beings. Because it is, it's beautiful and full of friends and amazing people. But it has been four years now since I began traveling. Four years. That is so long to me. It's long enough for traveling to become a second skin for me. Not even, it is my only skin to the point where I feel uncomfortable at times in civilization. That's how much it's taken ahold me in these four years and the ways I've changed and things I've learned are more than pricelss. But, and I do not say this lightly or without constitute, there is something more out there that calls to me. And I mean to go chasing it. I am not sure what it is that is calling me, so do not ask. I only know that it is more. As with most great things I'm sure it will be a long and painful road and a part of me welcomes that. A wildly insane part of me craves an insane challenge. And I think it's finally time to begin chasing that madness.
Wish me luck and be happy,
Beacon
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