Then my next try is flying from the seat. Just like that.

Is that a nipple ring? Awe.some.

Okay, THAT is the kind of natural scenery I'd like to enjoy during the long jumpy speedy motorbike ride to work and home, not that I am not grateful for the wonderful festivity of yellowing rice fields and the long funny lines of pieces of fabric that looked to be cut like women underwear to scare off the birds.

And today, Friday morning, is not an exception. There's only two things I do to entertain myself while sitting nervously tight on the motorbike;

1. Rewinding the scene of Stewie or Peter Griffin again and again.
2. Scanning the road left and right to count how many interesting people I can spot in a day.

Unlike any other morning, it was more interactive this morning. Ed split up some funny things and I was amazingly able to catch up with his current mood and laughed along the way, hoping that would keep him from speeding up and make me flapping behind, face washed with the brutal wind and flying dust.

A few minutes ride outside Ubud city I noticed the road is wet, the wind shook off the shower leftover from trees along the roadside and hit my face. I looked up at the sky, 'Shit, it's raining.'
'No, it's not, ' Ed replied half-turned his small head that's poorly fit the black helmet. I have been meaning to ask him why his helmet is always crooked on the back and why does he occasionally throw back his head when he is about to speed up.


What happened next was I was thrown out of the bike and hit the ground on my right side and awarded myself a few light bruises on my peeled off right wrist. It was so sudden that I forgot a quick shot of pain ran through my shoulder. Tried to gain my all consciousness, I picked my sunglasses that was safely lied on the wet asphalt road, adjusted my helmet and rose to my feet.

'You're alrite?' We asked each other at the same time, 'Please help me up,' Ed said. His small and skinny figure was cuddling with the red motorbike, put a brave face and reached out for my hand. For a minute, I forgot there was a dog the he hit. The whole things made us late for two minutes.

'I guess I hurt my knee,' he said while checking out his faded blue jeans. Then laughed weakly, 'I had many torn jeans from motor accidents,' he went on with that close-to-sorry tone.

'Lucky we are fine,' I commented. 'What happened to that poor dog?' I asked, 'Was he sleeping on the road or something?'

'Nah. He was being indecisive should go back or ahead,' he explained, 'and,' he smirked at me, 'I did it on purpose,' he said.

'Did what?'

'You know, hit him on the stomach.'

His confession makes me sick to the stomach.

C sent me a text asking when I'd be arrived in Amed tomorrow.  I dont really feel like going out for this weekend yet I would feel bad if I don't see him even for a day before he returns to Holland. His sincere invitation and friendship cant be turned down.

I will see what kind of car/bus/taxi I could use to get there and see him in the afternoon after lunchtime. Never been there  so it'd be nice to check out their dark sand beaches and all.

It is raining. Again.