Life Happens For Me, Not To Me (Part Three)

Great Morning Ya'll!

Today is a continuation of the story mentioned in the two previous days.

If you haven't yet read those editions, I'll link them below.

Here's Part One.

& Here's Part Two.

WELCOME TO BALI

Man, this was the most exhilarating time in my life.

After months of dreaming and planning, the day had finally come to step foot on the island.

And boy, I had no idea what to expect.

As the plane descended into Bali,

I saw the orange stone buildings and lush greenery surrounding a large volcano.

This view has become a forever photo in my mind, and something I'd truly never forget.

Thankfully, due to all the pre-planning,

getting into the country was an absolute breeze.

Immediately after immigration,

we were swarmed by hundreds of taxi drivers vying for our attention and money.

But unlike other countries, many of these men have a large smile on their face.

It felt like the taxi ride also implied that they'd cook a meal for you,

introduce you to their entire extended family,

and let you stay a few nights at their place if needed.

It was that deep level of sincerity and care that I was immediately astonished by.

That warm-eyed, warm-hearted hospitality never wore off during my entire 2 years in Bali.

and was the one thing that made me feel immediately at home.

I picked a taxi driver to take me to the little hut in the most popular part of the island, Canggu. (Chaun - goo).

While driving in the taxi for about 30 minutes, I was absolutely astonished by what I saw...

It had to have been tens of thousands of people,

all somehow zooming their way past our small car on mopeds,

heading to work.

We were driving on the left side of the road, with little to no sidewalks.

There was rarely ever a stoplight.

And in the areas in which there was, they seemed to be more of a recommendation than a law.

I got to drive through the city, then on the coast of the beach,

getting a thirty-minute tour of the true diversity of this small island.

It was a sight to be seen, something I'd never forget.

We finally arrived at my little hut I was renting through Airbnb.

Many Indonesian families build small motel-style structures behind their homes.

They then offer anywhere from four to twelve rooms (called Homestays) to rent out to travelers.

It couldn't have been more than 12 feet by 12 feet,

costing me about $125 a month,

only about 3 minutes away from the beach.

Even though it wasn't much, it had everything I needed.

I felt like a little golden retriever puppy that had just found a new home.

To this day, it's still one of the most exciting days of my life.

THE BEACH

Once I got settled in,

and met the family who would be housing me for the next month,

they made me a ceremonial dish that the mother had made for lunch...

A large bowl of soup with an entire chicken foot within it,

spicier than a habanero...

The father and owner of the motel had an extra moped available for me to rent for another few dollars,

so I took him up on that offer.

He said,

"Do you know how to ride a moped?"

I said,

"No."

He said,

"Okay, let's try. Hop on and drive to the other side of the sidewalk." (20 feet away)

I said,

"Uhh, okay..."

I then got on and tried to remember every movie scene that I've watched that had a motorcycle in it....

I had a feeling I should grip the throttle a certain way and assumed those levers by my fingers were the brakes.

Let's just say, I made it to the other side of the small sidewalk, only falling off once.

The host, Made (Mah-day), said,

"Okay, good enough. Off you go now."

And then there I went, off to the beach.

Despite rush hour traffic and an immense fear of falling, I navigated like a seasoned veteran.

Once I got to the beach, I realized that I had picked the right place to live.

Growing up in a desert for most of my life,

now having a beach just minutes away felt like heaven.

Canggu had more of a gray beach, which makes the sand look more like ashes.

Somehow, this was still really beautiful.

I immediately jumped in, eager to cool off and escape the constant sweat of the humid climate.

After a few minutes of laying in the ocean, letting it take me wherever the waves wanted to go,

I felt like it was time to get out and grab a fresh coconut.

I start body surfing my way back to shore...

As I'm riding this wave, about 10 feet away from shore,

I felt a little scratch near my right abdomen.

Didn't think anything of it, it was probably just a piece of seaweed or something.

I finally make it to land,

and start walking to the coconut stand.

As I'm walking, I start to notice a deep stare from nearly everyone in my proximity.

Their eyes were locked on, and their jaws had dropped.

My first thought was....

"Man, this P90X Training Routine must really be working well."

Then all of a sudden,

two Indonesian men start walking fast up to me, not saying a single word in English,

but signaling me to look down...

I had a huge gash on my right abdomen,

that was shaped like an oval,

about 4 inches in diameter,

dripping blood.

"Oh shit."

For some reason, despite many people in Indonesia being able to speak fluent English,

in this situation, not a single person could.

The two men grabbed my hand,

rushing me to a moped.

The driver of that moped,

couldn't have been more than 17 years old,

and he rushed me to the nearest hospital.

Thankfully, he was able to speak a few words of English...

He kept saying,

"Haha you're fucked bro, but you're going to be okay, haha"

He said that same phrase over and over again,

as we sped to the hospital.

I'm a big dude, especially for Indonesian standards.

But somehow we were both able to fit on the smallest moped known to man,

as he was pushing 50 miles per hour weaving through rush hour traffic.

Let's just say, this dude is a phenomenal driver.

He told me he's been driving ever since he was seven years old.

THE HOSPITAL

We finally roll up to the hospital...

Let's just say, this isn't anything like we've seen in America.

This wasn't some Mayo Clinic type of place...

This was another 12 by 12 foot room,

with obvious mold on the corner of the ceiling,

and the one "Doctor" could not have been a day older than 18.

But where else was I going to go?

I need medical intervention ASAP.

Thankfully, the doctor was fantastic at her job, and spoke perfect English.

She told me that I had hit a large piece of coral, and that it could have been so much worse.

No stitches were needed, just sterilization and proper bandages.

Despite the hospital environment being as sketchy as it could get,

I felt this immediate sense of ease from this young doctor.

About 30 minutes later, I was all good to go.

As we were leaving, still needed to pay,

the dude who drove me here, (now my friend, named Putu),

said,

"Sorry bro, I took you to a more expensive place."

I said,

"It's okay bro, it was the closest. How much is it?"

They said,

"Procedure and extra bandages to take home, the total is 270,000 Rupiah."

(Oh shit, that's a big number)

I get out my phone,

opened up the currency converter app,

typed in the exchange rate...

I said,

"Oh... $16 dollars? Okay. Here's 400,000 Rupiah. Thank you so much, please keep the change."

Putu drove me home, and I quickly realized sitting was difficult with a gash near my stomach.

I'll deal with that later.

Once I got back to the homestay,

Made, his wife, and the rest of the family started to treat me as if I was their own son,

always checking on me, and even occasionally helping me rebandage the wound.

This did, however, cause me to be pretty immobile.

Walking felt painful,

and sitting felt excruciating.

I lay in bed,

staring at the ceiling,

as the adrenaline from the injury and Bali excitement begins to wear off.

Now reality sets in...

Where am I?

Why did I do this?

I don't know anyone,

my girlfriend won't be here for months.

I can barely move my body.

Everyone who is nice to me are just those who I'm paying.

I don't even know how the money works,

I don't know how to get around,

I don't know what I'm going to do with my life,

why did I just leave my golden opportunity?

Why did I just move to a third world country?

I'm alone.

I'm scared.

I want to go home.

Then, I get a call from my girlfriend...

She's sobbing on the other line...

She starts to say,

"Last night, while at the hotel, I got drunk and then I..."

That's it for today.

I'll share what happened in that conversation in tomorrow's edition of The Love Letter.

Thank you for all the immense amount of love and support I've been receiving with these past few letters.

I'm excited to bring you back to the moment with me,

and then connecting how everything has happened FOR me, not TO me.

I'm sharing my pain to give you permission to do the same.

I hope you know that you are love and enough.

See you tomorrow,

I unconditionally love you all.

-Cameron Hogan