A Visit to a Balinese Medicine Man

As most of you had already heard, while traveling in Bali I ended up paying a nice visit to a Balinese Medicine Man following an unfortunate event. Sorry I never divulged full details at the time, but I was just waiting for a moment when it would all seem like some funny event of the distant past.
Re-reading my travel journal now, I laugh about it and think, in some weird and twisted way, that it was almost an accident waiting to happen. I should have known that trouble was awaiting the minute I had decided to take command of our motorized scooter... .

The story begins about two weeks earlier .....

It was only a few weeks before when, riding Singapore's serene East Coast Park trails, I had crashed our tandem bike into a pole.

Magnus and I had decided to be romantic and rent a bicycle for two. And I had decided to be some strong, independent woman and guide us through the jungle (i.e. flat, paved bike trail). The getting starting part should have been our first sign: what a failure! Riding in the front seat, I was determined to get us on our way, but it was only after half an hour of many laughs, much shouting, and as many dubious looks from passerby's that we were off and rolling. We (I) had struggled so hard to coordinate that damn bike. It just wouldn't get going!
Anyways, we had been riding for many, many, many miles. It was hot. I had been hauling ass in the front... for a couple minutes. Up ahead there was a red light. And some posts.
And of course, I headed straight for a post. Crash.

Magnus flew off his seat, and I was sort of bumped off mine. But, luckily, no one was hurt and we were able to walk away, laughing at my poor driving skills, while Magnus quickly reclaimed the front seat as he tried to hide his look of utter shock at my poor navigation skills.

Fast forward two weeks later to Bali.....

Upon arriving in Ubud, Magnus and I had decided to be romantic and rent a motorbike and drive around the countryside visiting the rice paddies and chasing the setting sun. At some point on our way back home, I took control of the driving seat (the devil made me do it).
(sound familiar to you yet?)
Next thing you know, I'm trying to make a three-point turn across a road with oncoming traffic from both sides. Needless to say, I panicked, Revved the gas, and forgot to squeeze the breaks. (Motorbikes are so counter intuitive).
At the time, I faced two immediate options: 1. crash into a lusciously irrigated rice paddy up ahead, or 2. crash into a tree over to my side.
So, I aimed for the tree.
?


And this is how I got to visiting a Balinese Medicine man-- no, not THE Ubud Balinese Medicine man (from "Eat, Pray, Love"), just a young doctor at some local clinic.
A very, very nice local man who had witnessed the accident had brought us to this nearby clinic so that a doctor could asses my wounds. I was shaking, feeling light headed, but had to swallow my hesitations and hop on another motorbike with my two heros (Magnus and Local Driver) to get to the clinic.

Luckily, again, nothing serious happened to either of us from of my reckless driving. And fortunately, Magnus walked away (again) with nearly no scratch. I, on the other hand, had to get two stitches on my elbow and four on my hand. In one moment I instantly doubled my total stitch count for life. My left leg was pretty cut up as well... but that was just for effect ;)

I don't think Magnus will ever trust to get on another two-wheeled anything with me again... and somehow, I don't blame him. After encountering a pole and a tree, I couldn't imagine who ever gave me my license to kill.

picture above: not wanting to visit another Balinese Medicine man, I decided to take out all 6 of my stitches by myself! Five days after the accident, I began taking them out slowly, one at a time. Here is a picture of my hand, with the last stitch left!
Later on, when I would bump into a French Doctor/ Backpacker in Kuta, he said after taking a look at my wounds that I had taken the stitches out too early and went on to advise me that I shouldn't risk re-opening the cuts by going surfing.
I thanked him for his help and bandages, and then quickly ran to the beach for a sunset surf.
He was right, it was uncomfortable-- my elbow at this point could still barely bend fully-- and the pressure of pushing myself up on the board killed my hand, so I didn't last too long out there in the waves. But, it was still one heck of a ride-- my last surf in SEA. And for that, I could definitely swallow the pain.