Today, the hospital has a 35-bed burn unit donated by the Australian government, staff has been trained in emergency treatment, and ambulance teams have up-to-date communication equipment. The morgue has been renovated and stocked with the proper tools.
Still, many Balinese fear that the attacks could make their beautiful island synonymous with terror and death -- and destroy all they have worked to build.
Gde Wiratha knows that feeling all too well. He owns Paddy's Pub, which was wiped out in the 2002 attack that killed so many. But he bounced back, building a new Paddy's just 100m from the blast site within six months of the bombing.
"I'm Balinese -- my blood is here, my soul is here," said Wiratha, who is also president of the local chamber of commerce.
The flags of the tourists who come to Paddy's still hang from the rafters, but since the second bombing, visitors prefer to come for a few quiet drinks rather than all-night clubbing.
The mood is also solemn down the street at the 2002 blast site, where a memorial plaque lists the names of the victims. Worrall and his companion, Jacquie Tessen, 44, gazed quietly up at the names.
But Tessen, a doctor on her first trip to Bali, agreed that people couldn't single out Bali as a particularly dangerous place.
"There's really no place where you can consider yourself completely safe," she said.



