Copain-isms : The Strap On

I reluctantly rolled out of shavansana at the end of my Vinyasa yoga class and Namasted along with the other tourists, island hippies and first-time zen-seekers on Gili Trawangan.  It was our first day on the island after 10 days in Bali, and I was determined to yoga it up during my four-day island adventure.

Copain had decided to take a stab at stand-up paddle boarding while I was in class. We had met an English expat with spectacularly crooked teeth and an SPF-oiled-up hairy chest who was renting them out on the beach down from our hotel- he even advertised a free lesson when you rented a board. Our plan was to meet back at the hotel after our respective activities.

As I floated into our traditional lumbung, I was hit with Copain at his irritated best:

Babe! Mon genou!

Your knee? What happened to your knee?

P*tain de English paddle-board guy didn't tell me about the coral!  The water was too shallow and I fell off the board onto the coral - right on my knee! Aiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Don't touch it! It hurts too bad!

Now, let me just clarify that this guy being English was not helping any part of the situation. It all dates back to a lot of wars you know...

What do you mean he didn't TELL you about the coral - couldn't you SEE the coral underneath you?

And on and on we went, as Copain hobbled down the hotel stairs in a manner closely resembling Frankenstein on our way to dinner, left leg advancing, right leg dragging a Havaianas flip flop behind him.

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3am, Hotel room on Gili T

Copain: Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Mon genou!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I've torn my meniscus! I just know it! Our vacation is ruined! Why does this always happen to me??? I should just lay on the beach and do nothing. Why was that English guy so stupid! 

(English men - always forgetting to tell you about coral in shallow water - pffffff)

FCC, half asleep, remembering this special moment:  Take an anti-inflammatory. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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We woke up three hours later to the sounds of the Mosque calling for prayer, and Frankenstein was in full effect. Despite the now four anti-inflammatories I had force-fed Copain, he was convinced that his knee was shattered for life and that he would have to walk with a cane. A CANE.  I tried to remind him of his Emmy-award winning dramatic interpretation for back pain, but the damage was done. He was going to die an old man with one working knee and a cane from Indonesia.

Since we were staying on an island that doesn't even have cars, it was no surprise that there was not a doctor's office either, but after Frankensteining around the island for about an hour, we did find this:

Worried about just exactly how creative they would get with his knee, we decided that a simple bandage with a lot of ice and elevation would be the best route until we got home and had access to reliable, less creative, more science-based healthcare.  We walked inside, trying not to touch anything, and searched our guidebook for vocab that would help us out. Unfortunately Lonely Planet left out very useful words for falling on coral from a stand-up paddle board rented to you by a buck-teethed Englishman.

Fortunately for everyone involved (you, dear readers, included), Copain found his words faster that I could and confidently asked the "nurse / doctor / antibiotics distributer": Do you have a.... strap-on?

All I can say people, is that thank god the Indonesian in front of us wasn't familiar with this particular vocabulary word, and that once I had pushed Copain behind me and taken control of the situation, we had an over-priced ACE bandage in our hands five minutes later.

When I translated the word for him (yes, Copain, a strap-on is a sex toy) and asked him what the heck he was thinking, he told me, "Well, it's a strap, and you put it on. A strap-on."

And just like a five-year old who needs a bandaid for a paper cut, suddenly the "strap on" made Copain's knee feel so much better.