I love driving, but driving a moped in Bali is NOT my kind of fun.  The roads are crowded and chaotic.  I’m afraid I’m not skilled enough to handle the different road rules here.  I’m afraid of the other drivers.  I didn’t think I needed to be afraid of them touching me.  I was wrong.

For the first month of my trip, I mostly had my friend Luca driving me.  If I was alone, I got around via Gojek Ride.  Its basically Uber but mopeds. Its pretty awesome, but there are some places you’re not allowed to be picked up from in order to help support the local taxi drivers.  So if you really want to have an independent and affordable journey, you need to rent your own scooter.  Which is still pretty cheap. Its about $4.50USD a day, and only costs about $2USD to fill a tank.  I was still pretty keen to avoid driving myself, but I had a friend visiting in Uluwatu.  He told me it was time to ‘nut up’ and do it.  I couldn’t argue with that logic.

I rented a scooter for a few days, and everything went fine.  It was smart to start driving in Uluwatu.  There’s a few busy roads, but overall, the traffic is tame compared to Kuta or Canggu.  I drove a moped and a dirt bike in Hawaii, so I wasn’t starting off from scratch.  But the road rules here are different.  It doesn’t matter what side you overtake another vehicle, if you drive on a sidewalk, if you drive on the wrong side of the road, or if you are going the wrong direction on a one-way street.  If your moped fits, you can go there.  I have decided to not really participate in that style of driving.  I’m happy to just cruise at a moderate speed and leave people plenty of space to pass me by.  No hurry, no worry.

I decided to move to Uluwatu because I could maintain my chilled pace here.  I started renting a room for two months as of last week.  I got a moped to rent again yesterday.  I rented the bike from a guy I’ll call Noa. Noa and I  sat and chatted for an hour or so before I went out on my errands.  I don’t know when I developed the gift of gab, but god knows, I’ve sure got it now! I love turning strangers into friends.

I went about my errands yesterday, and I started heading home. I was wearing my favorite outfit. Its a romper (playsuit in Australia) without any shoulder straps, and I had on my backpack. I was only about ten or fifteen minutes away from my apartment.  I intentionally took a slightly less busy road so I wouldn’t have to deal with hectic traffic.  I thought it was safer.  I was wrong.

I noticed a man on a white scooter had been behind me for a while.  Which is odd, I drive so slow almost everybody passes me.  I just figured he was looking for his turn or something.  But he was watching me.

The moment nobody else was in sight, he zoomed up next to me.  He yanked down my strapless top, exposing both my breasts.  He started groping me.  It felt aggressive.  I screamed. I glanced at him. But really, I was focused on the road. I didn’t want to crash.  I didn’t know how to protect myself from him. All I could think to do was protect myself from a moped accident.

Well, I don’t know how long he was there. Maybe a minute. And then he just sped off.  I tried to remember his license plate number but it was too much, too fast. All I could do was pull over on the side of the road.  I curled up into a ball on the ground and started sobbing.  Soon, three local Indonesian people had stopped to help me.  They helped get me into a shady spot, made me take some sips of water, and helped to get me in touch with Noa.  I didn’t know who else to call.  I could hardly speak.  I was having a panic attack.  I couldn’t control my breathing enough to get the words out. The people that stopped to help me explained my location, and Noa was there so quickly.  I’m not even sure he knew why I called.  He probably figured I totaled his moped. When I explained what happened, he wished I had totaled it trying to beat that guys ass.  He said he could always get another moped, but he couldn’t undo what had happened to me.

I told Noa where I lived. When I was ready, he drove slowly so I could follow him to my home. I made it safely inside, locked the door, and I was left alone with my thoughts.  I called my friend Em, and she told me to get in the shower and wash it off. Obvious advice, but I needed a little direction at that point.

I headed to my bathroom.  I hated my reflection, I didn’t like to look so pathetic, so weak.  The makeup running down my face, my red blotchy skin.  The tired, scared eyes still full of tears.  I undressed and found a large scratch across my chest.  I sobbed again.  But I didn’t really mind the scratch.  Its like it validated the experience somehow.  That it wasn’t fake; that he intended to hurt me. That he did hurt me.

I stepped into the shower and washed his dirty hands off me.  I just stood there for a long time letting the water run over me.  The “what if’s” started flooding in.  What if he had done something worse? What if I had been wearing something different? What if I had sped up? What if I hit the brakes? What if I kicked his scooter or hit him in the face? What if I drove him off the road until he crashed and then beat his face in? I liked that last one the best. It still brings a big smile to my face.  But in the end, I’m not focusing on those “what if’s”. Its done.  Its over. He does not know where I live. I am safe now.

This incident was pretty upsetting for a few reasons.  The main reason is that I thought I had taken enough precautions to be safe here. I left any outfits maybe considered too revealing for this culture at home. I don’t stay out late alone. I don’t get drunk alone. If I walk alone, I have my mace in my hand. Even in a group, if its after dark, I have my mace in my hand. I took Krav Maga classes to help me learn how to protect myself from an attack. I try to be constantly aware of my surroundings. I don’t have any flash purses or jewelry to attract attention.  But in the end, none of that mattered.  I’m not a skilled moped driver, and therefore in that moment, I was vulnerable.

The other reason this really sucks for me is that I’m alone. And I am scared now.  I made myself hop back on the moped today and drive to a café to write this out.  But the drive was awful.  Anytime a driver passed by me a little close, I tensed up.  I started tearing up a few times.  But I know with time, it will get easier. I’m sure that even after writing this, I will feel a weight off of me.  I’m having high hopes that the drive home will be less triggering.  But I will deal with whatever emotions come, bravely and calmly.  I’m thankful for the love and support of my friends back home, and it would be rad if they were here, but they’re not. And that’s okay.  I am used to travelling alone, and I’ve learned to be my biggest support system.  Everybody loves a good hug from a friend, but I’ll be okay til I get one.

I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, I just want you to know that this happened. I want you to be safe. And if something ever happens to you, I want you to know that you can call or message me anytime. I will be there for you.  In the meantime, I’m going to keep driving that moped until I’m skilled enough to beat some guys ass if he tries to pull that shit again. xx