Thursday, July 25, 2013

Farewell Sumatra...

Without a single doubt, my last three months, only in Indonesia, have been filled with unexpectedness and marvelous encounters.
Not having a plan and going with the flow is definitely a huge factor as to why it has been so fantastic thus far.
When I was in Berastagi, I went for a day walk to the Batak town of Linga. According to the guide books and local tourism recommendations, it is supposed to be one the nicest and most conserved local Batak Karo village in the area.
It took me quite a while to get to that area as I preferred to walk rather than bus it all the way. In retrospect, busing it would probably been a better idea, as the road side scenes on the way did not present much interest...and I would definitely have arrived at the town on time for the Batak wedding celebration happening that day. Bummer!
Anyhow, I walked...
When I arrived to the village, much to my disappointment, there were only very very few traditional Karo houses left standing, no more than 5. (Which compared to Samosir island where 80% of the island is populated with traditional Batak houses, made look quite ridiculous).
Anyhow, I walked around, searching for whatever interesting traditional marketing cultural sight might be left to see.
When I arrived to one of the largest traditional Karo houses left, I was greeted by smiles from a bunch of 5 local young students who were visiting one of their school mate whose family lived in that house.
We quickly connected, between photos of us, practicing their English, and a few words of French, and some information sharing, including the tip to go to Dua Warna waterfalls in Sibolangit, we ended up exchanging contact info, for when I would be in Medan a few days later.
Then I walked back to my losmen...
So as I was planning where to stay in Medan, I asked Susi for tips, and she quickly managed to get Maruli to host me in his student catholic boarding house. This boarding house is housing 8 male undergraduate students.
When I arrived on Medan, she and Maruli managed to borrow two scooters to come pick me up from the bus stop and drive me all across the city to the boarding house. Gosh, sitting on the back of this scooter, with my 65 liter heavy and bulky backpack on my back, I didn't feel all that comfortable, and even less, when zigzagging through the crazy Medan traffic. But it also was so exhilarating at the same time. Like an adrenaline rush created by the such a risky endeavour. Or at least it was for me, as for them, it just seemed like a simple routine ride.
At the boarding house, everyone was just so welcoming and incredibly nice, asking me all sorts of questions about myself and my trip, while trying to make me feel as much at home as possible.
The boarding house was near the university campus. (Universitas Sumatra Utara). So after dropping off my bags and chit chatting a bit to cool off from the criminal heat outside, we headed to the campus to walk around, take some photos, and eat...so delicious bakso.
After a late afternoon bakso, they decided to take me to a far away hindu-catholic temple. (Not quite sure about it still, have to do more research) but the fantastic highlight of my journey through Medan happened then. As we were sitting in a minivan/public bus, protestant catholic, christian catholic, Hindu, agnostic, Muslim, all next to each other, cramped up in that minibus, during rush hour, with an excrutiating heat in the air and no ventilation system, as if the absolute religious and cultural melting pot interaction that was going on was not as fabulous in itself, as the bus was riding along the traffic, we heard outside and above the traffic loud noise, the call to prayer and official announcement that it was at last time to break the fast for the Muslims following Ramadan. Seeing the frustration on the have of a Muslim woman for being stuck in the bus without being able to get anywhere to grab food and water to break the fast, a non Muslim woman in the bus offered her a bottle of water.
This simple act of cultural and religious harmony in a developing country where people struggle to make a living and ensure a future for their family just filled me with so much joy and at the same time with so much shame for being from a fully developed country where such harmony will never be seen. To this day I am still so amazed just thinking about this moment in this bus.
This was a beautiful evening.
When we returned to the boarding house, Susi, Elgina (Maruli's girlfriend) and Afri started cooking for the rest of us. A very simple mix of rice, noodles, some veggies and tempe. It was simple, modest, yet delicious...probably not just for the quality of the food, but more for the context of the moment, 8 young people sitting on the floor, sharing a simple meal and exchanging stories, life hopes, jokes, and other entertaining conversations. The beauty of genuine, curious, and hopeful young human beings is just fantastic.
The next day was phenomenal. I even drove a scooter in Medan's traffic and survived! Lol
Elgina, Susi, and Maruli took me all over the city on their scooters. I absolutely loved it. As we were zipping through the traffic throughout the day, I even almost felt as if I were a local. And in the evening, Susi was committed to volunteering and helping a group of youngsters rehearse some songs for the following days, church mass. And so I tagged along. The church was a Batak christian church, not quite finished to be built yet. We were about 15 people. We were there for about 3 hours. I mostly sat there and watched the interaction between the different ages, all united by their faith. The singing was so inspiring and enchanting at the same time.
They also all wanted to know about me, my life, my trip. You should have seen their eyes when I told them. Their faith, love of life, and happiness was as much an inspiration to me as my life and trip was to them. Another magical evening.
My flight was to taken off from Medan airport at 5am. Susi, Elgina, and Maruli would not have it any other way than for them to drive me to the airport, at 3:30 am, and on their scooters. I was and still am so touched by their kindness of heart. We had only met about 5 days before, and yet they were treating me like one of their own.
We hugged at 4am, in front of the airport security gate. I was sad to leave, not just Sumatra and Indonesia, more them, my new friends, my new incredible friends. I just hope I can return the favor some day...but I know without a doubt that our friendship will remain for a long, a very long time. Thank you so much guys, I could not have had a more amazing to say goodbye to Sumatra than the 48 hours I spent with you.
Farewell!...

Thursday, July 18, 2013

I love the jungle

Have I mentioned how much I love trekking alone in the jungle? Such an amazing way to connect with mother nature.

One tip when you get lost in the Indonesian jungle: just look for litter and plastic, and follow the detritus...it will bring you to where locals have been to and where they have come from. (Seriously, even 3 long hours of walking at my fast pace deep into the jungle, Indonesians manage to leave litter just about everywhere. Sad...)

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Reflection about life: please comment!!!

Today is July 17th, 2:22pm.
I finally managed to get a seat at the tiny little coffee/tuak shop overlooking the main market of Berastagi. (Usually this place, 3 tables) is always full of locals drinking tuak at all hours of the day and evening - apparently the tuak in Berastagi is alcohol-free).
Today one table is empty, thank god! Yet it is the one table fully exposed to the burning sun. Oh well...

Anyhow, as I was having lunch in the market (some delicious babi panggang, of roasted pork) and as I was observing the different people passing by, I was thinking about the following:

In the West, people tend to always worry about such trivial things in their lives, their blond hair die is not the right shade of blond, their winter gloves do not allow them to text on their smart phones, why isn't Apple compatible with PC, my dog is depressed let's take him to a shrink...and so many other silly life 'issues' that seem to prevent people to smile and be happy.

(Yes!!! A big cloud is finally blocking the sun, I can cool down a bit!)

As i am observing people during my trip, I am seeing people doing all sort sof things for a living sometimes to earn just a few cents per hour. Yet, you dont read on anyone's face a feeling of anger, stress, sorrow, unhappiness. All you seem to see is a feeling of concentration or preoccupation about what they are doing 'now' at the present moment. Later is later and doesnt seem to be intruding with now. You don't see any sort of judging or envying in people's eyes. Nobody cares about the look of others. (I haven't gone to Jakarta or Bali yet, where I think the dense presence of westerners might have a totally different influence on the locals).

Yet, at the same time, you see that people are kind of concerned about how much money they have in their pocket or are making at the present moment. You can sense a certain feeling of worry-ness. Which makes sense. After all, the meager income they live on and need in order to be able to survive and feed their family still is a daily constraint.

It just makes me wonder a lot. The people from developing countries who only manage to survive day by day, and keep on fighting with their individual economical situation, are they really happy? Do they actually have scales of comparisons to know different degrees of 'happiness'? Perhaps, they just don't know much better, while not necessarily knowing much worse either. So in the end, they just 'are'.

For those who are actually unhappy, or just do not like their condition, why do they keep on struggling? Are they just doing so in order to ensure the survival of their family? In which case, it would shown tremendous sacrifice of one's life. Or are they hoping that by struggling on the longer run they will manage to reach a better situation? But what would be a better situation? What would they actually need to get there? Do they count only on themselves? On the help of their god? On foreign aid? Are they themselves actually doing something, other than surviving, in order to change their condition?

For those living in absolute misery and who are fully conscious of their situation, why do they even persist to keep on living?

In our society, the West, so many people commit suicide because they feel depressed or rejected, yet, they live in such privileged condition. Ha! It just made me think that a perfect medicine to substitute all the antidepressant out there and much less dangerous for the body should be for doctors to prescribe hours of community service at helping others in need. I strongly believe that by doing this, there would be many less suicides, no more depressive people, and many less people in need. Just a thought for the lobbyists fighting pharmaceutical abuses. ;0)

Why is the West so different from the developing world? I don't think it is a matter of education level nor of financial capacity. Indeed, most well educated populations tend to live in the future, always saving, planning, investing...yet forgetting to live the present. If we were that well educated we would know how important and rewarding it actually is to live the present moment rather than constantly worry about the future.

The people with the most money and the most education ate the ones who tend to always want more and complain about their condition, while those with no education and no money survive, not complaining about life.

What you don't know cannot hurt you. The more the world is developing, the more the poor are interacting with the rich and the more they are realizing what they could have if they had more money. Consumerism coming from the West is like the new plague of the developing world. Almost as if the West was purposefully contaminating the developing world to make sure they are no longer happy. And what's the main channel/transmitter of this 'virus'? The internet, the media.

Ufffff....such a double edge sword!

Unfortunately, this virus is irreversible now. Poor people will have to be unhappy, and crave for material things they never knew nor needed before. And yet, at the same time, rich people are not getting happier.

Not sure I am making any sense. Hopefully some of you will share your own thoughts and make this post more interesting and constructive.

Gunung Sibayak...

It is now 7:18am, July 16th, and in am sitting on a cold big rock, overlooking the gigantic crater of the mount Sibayak volcano, in Berastagi North Sumatra. I am now stuck on that rock as the fog has grown so thick and all over that all i can pretty much see is my finger tips and my tablet.

Yes, i took my tablet as I knew that being high up on this mountain at sunrise would make me want to write. :-)

This morning I woke up at 3am, after barely getting any sleep (the book I am currently reading, Shantaram, is so good I can hardly put it down to go to sleep at decent hours.)

Berastagi is a transit town between the west coast of Sumatra and its east coast where Medan is kind of located, so it means that there is always some sort of kijang and other smaller trucks traffic through the main road. But also, since it is Ramadan, the streets are usually populated with the Muslims of the town as they eat before the sun rises. When I got out the door at 3:08am with my backpack on and saw that the warungs were still open and actually filled with customers I was quite surprised. They must have thought I was crazy to be walking out so early in the morning. Oh well...

I really wanted to hike that volcano, my first volcano, and be up there for sunrise...despite the fact that the weather has been pretty bad and cloudy since I got here...so crossing my fingers I hit the road with a 10 year old and approximate map of how to get up there.

Mind you, on the map and most tourist info documents it is written in big letters 'do not climb alone, it is dangerous, people have died'...sure just about the right thing to say in order to motive me to actually do it...and to make it a tad more challenging, by night. :-)

Three things i should have done before departing:
1) ask if there are any dangerous animals in the jungle I would have to cross for most of the way? (After all, the jungle reserve is called Leuser Natural Reserve, and if I am correct, Leuser actually means jaguar...I was actually, leuser is just the name of the forest, nothing more)
2) buy some batteries for my head lamp (I have been using my lamp for four months now, and its intensity is not that bright anymore)
3) ask what is the average temperature at the top of the volcano a dawn (only packed a light hoody and a T-shirt, and it is now god damn freezing!)

The volcano in itself is not that high at all, only 2,000m, piece of cake I thought. Ufffff!

The first half hour of the hike was through the town, so slightly lit road, and filled with mean yet inoffensive barking dogs.  I kind of have a fear of dogs ever since I got attacked and seriously chewed on by Edu's boxer in the Dominican Republic 10 years ago. :0(

Anyhow, then is when it started getting a bit tricky. I was the only person on the road. It was so pitch black at the entrance of the jungle, and the jungle was so dense that I couldn't even see the sky, nor the mountain to guide me. And despite the cold, I was sweating like a mad man.

The fact of not having a clue about the wild life in that part of the jungle is what got my nerves shaking the most. Seriously, when I say it was pitch black, I really mean absolute darkness. Every single noise raised so much suspicion in me. It so reminded me of when I was a kid back in the south of france. Between the front gate of our land and the house there was a good half a kilometer of zigzagging steep road through the forest. So when I would come back home at night, after hanging out with friends or playing basketball in the town, it was always the big challenge to climb back home. Every shadow in the darkness made me think it was a wild animal of some sort...to the point that I found a good trick to shorten the scary moment as much as possible: run up as fast as possible towards each shadow in order to prove the fear wrong.

So this morning I had quite a few flash backs of when in was younger back home. Except now i was in a wildly populated jungle, the road wasn't 500 meters but rather a good 3 hours hike. And i didn't have much of a clue of where I was going.

The closer i got to the volcano and the foggier it got, adding to the mysterious darkness of the jungle.

At one point, I got a real scare. All of a sudden I see a big black shadow right in front of me. The road was so steep that what was actually only a big water stain on the floor, arrived right at the level of my eyes. Lol I felt a bit stupid after that.

This volcano is not high at all, but for some reasons, I had such a hard time through the hike. Perhaps a mix of the black night, then air heavy in sulfur, the road very steep, the surrounding jungle, the cold, and just not being sure at all where the hell I was going, yet trying to walk as fast as possible to make it for sunrise, and in less than 3 hours...just thought that if i did so, I would kind of impress the local guides and the people in town. Stupid of me, I give you that much. So realizing how stupid it was, half way through i just started to slow down a bit. (I made it in three hours)

Thank god, when the paved path ended and it was time to actually seriously climb up an unmarked dirt path, I had reached a sort of plateau, and found two small groups of local tourists camping there, and having a very early breakfast (5am! Muslims probably) That's when I realised how badly powered was my headlamp, when one of them pulled out his cell phone to use its flashlight app, and well....my headlamp looked like a dying match next to it.

Anyhow, as these local tourists and I tried to find the entrance to the path, arrived a group of three, out of the blue (well more like out of the black), one guide and two foreigners...so they showed me the way. I stayed on their tale, just so i wouldn't get lost and in case my lamp died.

After a very very steep climb, we finally arrived at the edge of the crater...all along we were hearing noises as loud and similar to the ones you can hear right on an airport tarmac as a few planes are about to take off. Really loud! It was actually the noise made by the boiling water coming in contact with the surface, and thus turning into ridiculously hot vapour. Ufff, it was so cold out that for a split second the thought of laying right on top of the hole shooting that vapor crossed my mind. :0S

The sun, or at least the light was slowly making its appearance revealing a gigantic crater and beautiful rock formation making its edge.
But in a split second, all of it was gone. A huge and very thick cloud of fog and vapor had taken over the sky and the entire landscape, in the meantime, the sun was rising, and we were unable to catch a glimpse of it. Not cool!

I wanted to isolate myself a bit just to reflect and think in peace and so i walked along the edge of the crater. Sat down between two rocks to protect myself from the cold, and ate a banana and an orange, and waited...waited...waited, for a good two hours for the fog to move on so I could see where I was and where to go next.

...yes, I am no longer sitting on that one rock where I started writing this post. Lol

When the sky finally cleared up, wow, what a view, on both side!!! But the group of three had disappeared. Oh well, good for me. :-). Peaceful and totally alone on that big volcano.

...It is now 9am, I am still the only one in the area, my fingers are freezing, but it is so worth it.

From here I can see the whole valley and all its villages. Spectacular view!

...OK, it is now past noon. I just spent the past two hours leaving a big message down in the crater for all passers by to see when arriving on the site. He he! Won't say more, but it has to do with how much I despise Indonesians for littering so much.  Quite a few tourists and local guides stayed observing me as I was crafting the message with big rocks, yet, I processed in such a way that no one could make up what it meant until I finished the whole message. :-)

(Even in the crater, and along its crown, there is tons of littering!)

Now, am just waiting, yet again, for the sky to clear up and the fog to scatter so I can see the path down to the hot springs.

...It finally cleared up.

I really don't understand why everyone in town warns you so much about the fatal risks of getting lost around the volcano, perhaps for guides to make money. But seriously, a blind man could find his way around without a problem during day time.

Anyhow, I quickly found an alternate path to go down and 'quick' to the hot springs. Gosh I so wanted to get there quick and soak myself in a steaming hot sulfurous bath for the rest of the day.

Took me about an hour to make it down through a very rough bit magically secluded and steep jungle path, down what used to be actual stairs but now due to various earthquakes are just chunks of slippery concrete here and there, very slippery. The best part of the way down was the last third of the hike. A gigantic forest of giant bamboos. Just divinely beautiful to be wandering around such impressively noble and sober trees.  I bumped into two guys who were cutting down some bamboos to make building material as well as basket weaving material. One of the guys was totally and very eloquently fluent in English. Stunned me so much in such a location! He gave me directions to a shortcut to the hot springs...ufff almost there, at last. :-)

I finally made it to Purnama Air Panas. Wow! A beautiful little rustic yet adorable house, at the foot of the jungle and volcano, with a couple of little hot pools filled by the water coming directly from the volcano. The pools were uncovered. As I slowly eased myself into the water, it started pouring rain. Magical! I was there, soaking in the pool, the hot water against the cold air created thick floating vapor pierced by the heavy falling rain drops. And I was there, all alone, in the middle of it, overlooking the jungle, my body in the hot water and my face being washed off by the rain, in the middle afternoon. I was once again the only one there...at the exception of one white little dog lounging on the side of the pool, and a couple of cats strolling around looking for food.

After a few hours of soaking while reading my book, my skin had aged a good 30 years at least. Time to take a freezing cold shower to rinse  the sulfur off my skin and head back home. Uffffff the walk back to the main road, another hour of walking was fantastic. The base of the volcano is populated by tiny farming villages, growing all sorts of vegetables. Reminded me a lot of Toraja, without the water buffaloes, but with the monumental jungly mountain.

What a fabulous and long day this was. Quite a perfect day in so many ways.

Got home, took a little nap, ate a banana pancake, and went back to sleep at 9pm. Exhausted...

Pulau Banyak...exhausting attempt

Today has been quite a strange day.
We are July 12th, it is 7pm, iftar time in Ramadan days. I am sitting on the passenger seat of a kijang, in an empty parking, waiting for people to finish praying so we can take off toward Medan.

I had heard from a few people that Pulau Banyak had amazing pristine white sand beaches, off the coast of Singkil, so since I am short in time, rather than going to Pulau Nias, I decided last night that I would go to Pulau Banyak, much closer.

I arrived in Singkil (main port of departure to Pulau Banyak) about an hour before iftar, just bin time to find a losmen and spot out the place to eat a good mine goreng.

This town is really tiny, and other than in the late afternoon, it is dead. Since Ramadan started, I didn't really get a chance to watch out in the open how people change their daily lives. So when I made the effort to do so. People here spend the afternoon purchasing their food for the evening and for the fast breaking. When the moon dictates, they break their fast and eat, no particular ceremony around this. Then, for those who want, definitely not more than 80% of the population, they go to the mosque, prey, then eat some more or/and go about their social activities.

I found strange, that being the only foreigner in town, and my host clearly knowing that I had been fasting all day, didn't even offer me a glass of water, nor to break the fast with them. I am extremely surprised, in a disappointing way, about how the Muslims in Indonesia do not show at all any of the values I had learnt/observed with the Muslims from other parts of the world. It has shocked me quite a lot so far. In that way, I really look forward to being in the other Muslim regions of the world to reconciliate me with then culture of this religion.

(A thought that has been going through my mind quite a lot for a few months now is that the majority of the locals here, though very curious about foreigners, they actually dont care at all. After the 'where are you from? Are you married? What religion are you? How long have you been in Indonesia? Where are you going?' There is not any 'you should go there, or eat at that place, or the cheapest bus/boat to go there is this one...' Yes some young students in Sulawesi showed genuine interests in order to work on their English skills, but the rest of the locals don't really. It is strange because they do however stare at you in the street as if they had never seen a white skin person before.)

I woke up this morning, well, I got woken up by the loud mosque at 5am, decided to go to Pulau Banyak. The local boat departs at 9am. 4 hours later I arrive on the main island of the group of 90 islands. The town name is Belai. The town is tiny and looks like a dump. Tons of litter all over the place. (I still wonder how these people can call themselves Muslims, denying pig from their diet because it is supposedly to dirty, when they themselves live like the dirtiest of pigs...) Once there, I ask around a few souls regarding prices for accommodations/bungalows on the three islands who do have accommodations, and I keep on hearing the same song from everyone's mouth. Rp 200,000 per night including the food for one person. Terribly expensive. On top of that, I am quoted Rp150,000 one way for transportation to the islands offering lodging!!! For just a one-hour ride! Absurd! Nobody seems to be cooperative at all in the town, the sky is dark grey, I am exhausted because of the fasting, it is really hot. I a upset. So I just walk back to the jetty, and hop on the next boat to Singkil. Voila, such was my trip and experience to Pulau Banyak. A bit sad indeed...

Oh, one quite strangely funny fact about that island. In the guide books they say that that island is making serious efforts to promote its ecotourism. I heard the same from the mouth of the locals I spoke to. Quite contradictory is you ask me, to be promoting ECO tourism in a place that has absolutely no sewage nor trash disposal infrastructure other than dumping all trash in the street or in the ocean. Not sure whether to call it contradictory or hypocrite.

I have been fasting for three days, pretty much since the start of Ramadan, not so much by choice,  but rather by constraint due to transportation mode (always being in the same car/boat with locals who are fasting) and respect for the locals. The no food part is quite do able, but the no water part, with this heat, is quite a challenge.

It was so funny to watch the driver's face when I told him I had been casting for three days yet that I do not have any specific religion, but simply by respect for his people. Not quite sure he fully got it.

He kind of had the same reaction when I told him that in was still single and that I would get married only when I find the right woman, no matter where she is from, her skin color, nor her religion.

It is so strange to see that in a country where everyone seems to be constantly connected to the internet, people do not actually seem be connected with the rest of the world culturally speaking.

I was so upset about the day and about being totally misled about the  prices on pulau banyak. But I guess I could have done more research or maybe even tried to call the different lodging options to inquire about prices. Lesson learnt for later. Too bad though, a week on a paradise island could have been sweet...though I have already done quite a few of those on the past months. Well, now direction Berastagi...hmmm...well, it is now past 9pm, and we still haven't moved from the parking lot...I am the only passenger aboard so far...not very encouraging situation...but I have hopes. Lol

Well...after waiting on the empty parking lot for 5 hours, and changing car, I made it to Berastagi at 4:30am...in the freezing cold.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Aceh, Ramadan Mubarak...

So Ximena and I arrived to Banda Aceh straight from Pulau Web. None of us really knew what to expect from this city, especially in the eve of Ramadan.

We got a basic room in a Chinese hotel. All the other budget options were fully booked due to Ramadan. Aceh is sort of a capital for Sumatran Muslims to go celebrate Ramadan.

Banda Aceh quickly captivated us. This city is so full of life and cultural diversity between the Indonesian Muslims, the Indonesian catholics, and the Chinese. So dynamic. Our hotel was right in the heart of the food market and the night market. Could not be better than that.

Aceh also has a wonderful basar, regular market, right around the maim mosque there. Very big and full of everything. The city is covered in different little key activities. The street of hairdressers. The street of car repair. The street of fabric and sarongs. The street of furniture. The restaurant street. The jewelry street... Fascinating,

What a refreshing break from the different secluded places we had seen so far in Sulawesi and Sumatra.

In the night market we ate the absolute best beef sate EVER! In the warung street, I had a ginormous es campur (shaved ice covered in condensed milk and various syrups, chunks of root and jelow), yummmmmmy.

We spent our time eating while in Aceh because the food was so delicious!

On our second night, we met, in a souvenir shop, a young local, Iqbal. Such a genuinely nice and big heart. We quickly bonded. He told us how he was heart broken because his wife to be and love of his life had called off the wedding with him because his social and financial condition was not as food as another pretendant her father was preferring for her. Apparently she dared telling him that his life and his job were not good.

Wow! It was so sad to hear him unload his story on us, like that, standing in the doorway of his family's shop, while the rain was pouring. We spent a good hour chatting about life and love, and did all we could to bring light back into his soul, and comfort him. It worked I believe. He smiled again. I caught myself telling that if he liked his life and his job, then both were good, no matter what others say. It is funny, because I had never realised that myself until that evening. And it kind of made tilt in my head and help me reflect a lot on my own life. It made me smile as well. :-)

That same day, we decided to go check out one of the key monument resulting from the tsunami: the boat on the house. Only a 3km walk. On our way there, we walked by a few tiny towns and warungs, and when almost there, we found ourselves in total awe when seeing that the sunsetting sky, along the river filled with traditional very colorful boats, was filled with hundreds of kites of all colors. The kites very very simple and basics, but all flying at different altitudes. It was a magical spectacle that no photo can properly capture. No one nor any book had ever mentioned this. After that, the boat on the house, literally, a fisherman's boat that had been dragged by the tsunami wave all the way, 2km away from the coast and on top of this modest house, was a bit blend and um interesting of a tourist attraction. We headed back toward the night market. Sate time!!!!! :-)

The next day, sadly Ximena had to leave, after two weeks of travelling as 'husband and wife', much more convenient when traveling in Muslim places. (Ha! We even tried to pretend that we were both from Pakistan once, was funny).

But before Ximena left, we went to have a delicious (my best so far) bubur ayam (chicken porridge) in the big park of the tsunami monument while waiting for the museum to open. What delightful breakfast and start of the day it was.

Then, at 9am, we made it to the museum. First half hour, there was a power cut, so we waited outside. It was so strange and inconceivable to me that a museum could experience a power outage.

The entrance hall of the museum was so poignantly stunning and creative. A long corridor with an extremely high ceiling. The whole room is totally dark. Water is falling along the walls. I think the intent was to recreate to some degree the feeling of the post tsunami night time. Scary and freaky to even think about it, but so well conceived. The rest of the museum was just a series of photos, mostly of poor quality relating the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami. The also was a very moving 10 minute video showing a compilations of news stations and other amateurs' videos. Very powerful.

Then was time to say goodbye. :0(

After that, I went back to the park, had a delicious coconut and lime shake. Then back to the hotel, and slept of the rest of the afternoon. That night was the first night of Ramadan. I got a sense of it when I heard the unusually long call to prayer. So at about 9pm I headed to the main mosque across the city. What a spectacle it was! A defile of Muslims all very nicely dressed. But the most beautiful part of it was all the women, dressed in a similar traditional white outfit, and populating the streets, walk in and/or out of the big beautiful white mosque. A gorgeous night.

The next day, I left as well, heading to Tapaktuan on the west cost, to try and follow the road that Bruno had told us about and which according to him was so beautiful.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Sumatra continues...

Today is July 9th 2013, it is now 11:05am.
I am sitting in a laid back green plastic chair overlooking the Thanks to the World tsunami memorial park in Banda Aceh. The weather is gorgeous. I am sipping on half a liter of fresh squeezed coconut milk with concentrated milk and lime juice... Ximena and I just visited the tsunami museum, and then she just left to the airport heading to London.

I just realized it has been more than two weeks since I last wrote an entry in my blog...pretty much since I left Bukit Lawang.

So here goes what happened in the past two weeks...

My last morning in BL I had the intention to head to Aceh to go dive in Pulau Weh, but then, at the very last minute and after reading some forums in an internet cafe, I figured that it would be better to wait more time for the continuous rain to stop in Aceh, and also to delay my trip to Aceh so as to be there for the first few days of Ramadan since Aceh is the most Muslim part of the country. And plus I believed that both Chantal and Ximena would probably still be in Lake Toba. So I totally changed my itinerary, headed south and not north anymore.

Ufff the trip from BL to Medan and then to Parapat (connecting port to Tuk Tuk island in Toba Lake) was a nightmare...long and terribly hot! And well, I arrived in the tiny town of Parapat at 2am...try  find a place to sleep that late in a town that spreads along the lake shore.

Anyhow, the next morning I catch the first ferry to Tuk Tuk. When I arrived to Liberta Hostel (the fantastic crash pad of the famous Mr Moon and his young team of amazing cooks), to my great surprise, Ximena is still there, though just about to pack hip and take off to Aceh. Lol. Lucky me, I manage to convince her to stay a few more days. :-)

Lake Toba is an absolutely magnificent lake, at the center of which is a very very large and gorgeous island called Samosir, center of the impressive and mysterious Batak culture (cousin of the Torajas).

Samosir is no flat land at all, but rather similar to the Toraja valley, though a much smaller version. It still would require a good 6 to 7 hours by scooter to go around it. But what an incredible succession of landscapes, dotted by goats, cows, cats, dogs, and water buffaloes all along the road as if it was just a dirt path. Oh, and let's not forget the traditional batak houses. All made of dark brown wood, ornamented by ancient carvings painted in black, red and white. The Toraja houses look quite plain new compared to these. The meaning of each element of the Batak houses is fascinating. The main body of the house is in the shape of the traditional boats. Each house has 5 steps to climb. If it has 4 then it is the house of a slave. If the stairs are made of stone then it is the house of the king of the village. The door to enter is purposefully very small and low so that when entering the house one has to bow and thus symbolically pay respect to the hosts. The ground part of the house under the king's house is supposed to be a jail....

If you remember well, back in the Togians when I met Ximena, I cut her hair. Well, now I was myself in a real need of a hair cut. It had grown so much it looked like I was wearing a helmet! So my first afternoon in Toba, Ximena cut my hair. :-)

One key detail about Liberta is that its menu and the quality of its food was so fantastic that it was very enticing to just stay there and chill out by the lake shore, fronting the immensity of the lake and the lush green mountains surrounding it. Plus, for once the water was actually cold, so really refreshing to go for swims in the hot afternoons.

Samosir island, contrary to the rest of most of the country, includes pork in its cuisine. So hey, after such a long time of only having overcooked beef, and chicken, BBQ pork sounded like a yummy idea. So off we went on the quest of finding the one place recommended by a few people as having the best grilled pork in the area.

We walked all around the village of Tuk Tuk, and crossed the town of Ambarita. 'Abuse babi' we were told when arriving there. Boooh! No more pork today. Such a long walk and still no food in our stomachs. Oh well, we settled for what was one of the best mine goreng ever.

On the way back, it was already dark, and we kept on passing by those wooden sheds, used as palm wine ('tuak', the tuak from toraja is way better than the one in toba) and domino men's bars. So we had to stop at one and get some cultural experience. So much fun. Aside from the wife of the owner, Ximena was the only woman there. So we had a glass of tuak each and played dominos there with some other men for a good hour.  Son relaxing and fun. Then back on the road.

Ambarita is well known for its stone chairs part of town, owned by the Shialagan family...and we happened to walk by it as the town and streets were deserted, the moon was full and the sky sprinkeled with bright shiny stars. So entering the walled area, at night, with a slight fog, the stone chairs under this ancient tree, was so mysterious and mystical at the same time. As we approach the back of the garden, we are called out by two people sitting on a wooden bench, on the upper grassy area dominating the garden. We go and sit down with them. Believe it or not, but it so happen that the older man (55 yr old) was actually the king of the community, the Shialagan family, and a former aerospace engineer. Mr Gadin. The younger, Edy, his brother, a very talented carpenter. Both were quite drunk on tuak, so after a good hour, at about 11pm they invited us to go back the next day for some more sober conversation.

What a fascinating evening!

Back at Liberta, we found Rene, Pepe, and Ken playing Yanif, an apparently famous card game among backpackers of which one can easily become addicted. Lol so we played until about 2am.

The next day, after breakfasting on a delicious banana and chiocolate enormous pancake, we went back to the stone chairs and spent the whole morning there, Ximena, Ken, Pepe and myself, learning about the Batak culture, from the mouth of the king, and while all the other tourists were just taking some photos and trying to make sense of everything around them. Lucky us. When leaving Mr Gadin, he told us that the next day, weather permitting, a film crew would be there to shoot an independent Indonesian movie. Ha! You bet we will be there!!!

The next day, after yet another late night of playing Yanif, Ximena and I rented bikes and headed to the stone chairs. As we walk past the gate, the film director asks us if we mind being in the film. Hell yeah! So she the director says 'action' we both walk through the door, the camera right in our face, until we hear 'cut'. :-)   the name of the movie is 'My Father' should come out at the end of the year in Indonesia.

So yes, yet another half day spent with the king and his family.

Oh, and a fact which I find even more cool and fun is that while we were there, that same day, there was another small crew armed with a small high end technological helicopter remotely commanded filing the stone chair garden...the team was from Google Earth!!! :-)

The next day, given how exhausted we were after a full day of biking through the roller coaster roads, we decided to rent a scooter. (Hopefully this time I wouldn't crash!) So we did, and rode through half of the island.

We started the day by checking out the Ambarita Thursday morning market. Small, simple, but adorable. There, we had the second round of breakfast by indulging on a fat martabak campur. Yummmmmmmmy!

About 20 minutes a later, in the middle of nowhere, we bumped into this Batak wedding being celebrated. Fantastically lucky of us to be able, while sitting on the edge of the road, to observe, the concrete reality of the traditional process of a Batak wedding being implemented as per what the king had explained to us the day before, and knowing the meaning of everything going on. It was very curious to also obersve that there were as many street vendors vending food, toys and other gadgets as if it were a market.

A few hours later, we finally made it to the famous hot springs on the other side of the island and at the junction of Samosir island and the Toba mainland. Ufff...should be named the boiling steaming springs! So hot high up in the mountain that we had to walk back downstream to be able to take a dip. But wow was it worth it. Floating in a little natural pond of hot water, overlooking the mountains and the lake while then sun is getting ready to set.

Since we had not used the facilities of the restaurant/swimming pool/shower of the restaurant we had to walk through in order to get access to the natural hot spring stream, i felt there was no reason for us to pay any fee...but the restaurant owner felt differently, and rushed towards the door to block our exit and yelled at us to go to hell and find another way to get back to the parking lot. Though it was a tad frightening at first, we then found it quite hilarious, as we had to climb back to the natural pond, and then down along the wall where the restaurant throws all its litter. Ha, you should have seen how proud the owner was to do this to us in front of everyone. Lol and we were laughing at him.

I stayed a week in Lake Toba, thus Ximena stayed one week more than she had planned. :-)

Samosir island is such a strangely uniquely relaxing place. You feel like you are living at another era while on the island. Though there are quite many tourists, foreign and locals, the island is a so big, the lodging options are so numerous and spread out that you still can get a feeling of being secluded.

Samosir island and its Batak culture has some of the nicest and intricate woodcarving and painting I have ever seen. Only wish I had a lot more money and an actual home to buy some pieces and ship them home. Oh well...I guess it will call for another trip in the future.

After a week of relaxing cultural and sporty gluttony of banana pancakes and avocado juices, not to forget nightly Yanifs, we decided to head up north to Aceh. The feedback from Fede and Giulia, and the idea of travelling with Ximena was enough to convince me.

Two options to get there though. The more direct way, through Medan, or the very long, yet scenic roads of the west coast. Ximena was short in time due to her flight back to england, so we went for the fast and more direct way. I will do the west scenic road alone on the way back.

Medan in itself does not seem any different from any other big developing world city. But going in and out of Medan is definitely by far the most annoying and exhausting thing so far on my trip. What a nightmare of traffic, pollution, and airless heat.

The 12 hour night bus ride from Medan to Banda Aceh went like a breeze.

We were both very surprised when we got to Banda Aceh. Everything looked very relatively new (compared to the rest of the country we had seen thus far), and the infrastructure quite developed. We had forgotten that after the 2004 tsunami/earthquake, numerous countries and NGOs came here to rebuild everything. It cost Aceh 170,000 deaths for the region to be rebuilt. Sad, yet positive at then same time, as it allowed the area to make a huge economical leap forward.

It is sad to see that when a tsunami or earthquake hits countries as large with strong economical potential like Indonesia, many country do get involved financially and do actually lead to very positive and concrete change allowing the country to restart, yet she the same thing happens to a country like Haiti, where there are not that many natural resources at stake, though many countries and organizations pretend to get involved, nothing concrete actually gets done. Haiti after the earthquake/tsunami was just as bad as before. It's just sad the see the hypocritical and monetary oriented behaviour of foreign governments and organizations in such dramatic circumstances. Governments should not act like corporations and their fake corporate social responsibility initiatives, but rather show their moral values towards humanity in general. Whether you will make a buck out of it or not, human lives are human lives.  But I guess Indonesia has more oil and gold than Haiti.

So, once in Aceh, we quickly made our way to hop on the next ferry to Pulau Weh, a couple of hours away by slow boat.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! This ferry ride was hilarious. Ximena and I probably spent the first 30 minutes standing up on the upper deck, while most of the passengers would line up one after the other to take a photo with us. You know those statues at the wax museum, or these real life carton board cut outs of celebrities where people line up to take a photo with Justin Timberlake or Madonna pretending to be next to the real celebrity? It was exactly the same. It had felt a bit like that already for the past 2 months, but this time, to a whole new level. Excellent! Like I wrote before, if you want to know how it feels to be in the skin of a celebrity, simply travel to Indonesia...but beware, it is not as amazing as it seems, as least on the long run. Just so interesting to think that locals might have a collection of photos with total foreign strangers, the same way little kids in the US collect baseball players cards.

When we arrived in Pulau Weh, on the south shore of this big island, we didn't really seen much of what was to come, other than a very dense lush green jungle covering the background mountains.

Right of the boat, we get harassed by taxis and bejaks, as per usual, but this time, they were asking us Rp 50,000 per person to get to Iboih, which seemed horrendously expensive...little did we know that it was a good 30km away and that the road to get there was a succession of very seriously steep slopes on and on and on, up and down, down and up...but, as proud and adventurous as two early 30's backpackers that we were, we kept on insisting that the price, our price should be Rp 50,000 for two! Not being successful at all with our negotiation, we just decided to hit the road walking...with our big and heavy backpack (I seriously need to change my gear when I get to France and go to Decathlon!), and in the mid afternoon burning sun, not really knowing where we were going.

Ufffffff.....after a good 5 km, and passing by many goats and cows, we tried our luck again at negotiating with bejaks passing by. Rp 60,000 was our last offer, we got it, at last! Ximena and I were quite speechless and stunned all along the ride as we realized that walking it would have been pure impossible madness. But wow, what a gorgeous ride!!!!!!!

And then we finally arrived at the entrance of Iboih...cute very small beach town, or rather beach strip made of cafes, warungs, souvenir shops, dive shops, coconut trees, hammocks, traditional little wooden boats, cats, dogs, goats, foreign and local tourists, and this delicious vibe of relaxing vacation in the middle of the jungle yet at the beach at the same time. Oh, and the water was as turquoise blue as can get, the clearest water I have seen so far.

I would not call this place a heaven as it is not that secluded, and is populated by quite a lot of people.

All of the lodging options are spread out along the hilly and jungly cost, and it requires quite a hike (with our backpacks) to walk by each of them. All of them offer wooden bungalows on stilts, some perched in the jungle overlooking the ocean and some right on the ocean.

We stopped at OONG, apparently the cheapest option, and found a room in a bungalow right on the water. It was a big two rooms bungalow. The other room was inhabited by the fascinating Bruno, a retired Italian former sailor and then chemical engineer. The bungalow was so close to the water that it felt as if each wave was going to swallow the bungalow. The bathroom was outside...there was a small door in Thu back of the room, and very long and narrow wooden board would connect our doorstep to the doorstep of the bathroom 5 meters away and about 1.5 meters above ground. (Had to be careful when going to the bathroom, or else, well...)

Bruno is a fantastic story teller and such well travelled. He told us one morning that his daily morning moto is to tell himself while looking in the mirror 'Bruno, que culo!' (Pronounced with a strong Italian accent) It made us laugh so much, yet made so much sense. At such stage in his life, to be able to afford to spend the rest of his life hoping from paradise to paradise, ma que culo! :-)

On a corner pillar of our terrace, there was, for whatever reason, a little scooter rear view mirror hung there. I am telling this because our first morning waking up in the bungalow, we heard a big 'boom' and some loud noises coming from the terrace...as the sun was rising. When I peaked through the window to look at what might be the case of such noises, I surprised a big make macac monkey, looking at himself in the mirror. It was so funny and unexpected.

Bruno left the morning of the fourth day, so not having our favorite neighbour anymore, we decided to check out from OONG and check in at the last cottage on the shore, Yulia. We found a much much better bungalow, perched high up in the trees, yet, right overlooking the water at the same time.

Before keeping on going further about our stay on Pulau Weh, I absolutely must share an experience that has provided me with so much admiration, and so much hatred amend despise at the same time. Let me explain...
Our second day on the island, Ximena and I we having lunch at one of the local warungs, right in front of the beach, and just at the beginning of the 'hiking' trail to get to all the cottages along the shore. As we are people watching to try and get some more of the local culture, we see a young male foreigner passing by, with a crutch, and dragging what looks like a heavy suitcase, while he is obviously seriously crippled. The weather is terribly hot, and he seems to be struggling quite much on the flat part of the path. I call the waitress up so we can pay and run to help him. It takes a bit of time as you can imagine. To get to where we were, he had had to walk quite a bit, and climbed up and down quite many stairs from where the tax in dropped him off. As I am writing this, I am still in such a shock that not a single soul offered to help him carry his suit case and walk with him to help him find a lodging. 80% of the men on this island have no job and just spend their days doing nothing. How do these people dare considering themselves human, and Muslims when they let such thing happen without moving a finger, and just screaming out to him with a big smile 'welcome to paradise!"

We ran to catch up with him and take him suitcase. His name is Clement, he is a 27 French tourist, crippled from both legs and speech impaired, has managed to travel all through south east Asia, in these conditions, and yet managed to keep his smile, and not feel and resentment for such despicable soulless locals.

While I walked along Clement, carrying his suitcase, Ximena managed to find him a cheap room at OONG.

Clement's story has since been such a source of admiration for me. Such adventurous, curious, unstoppable, and courageous human being.

For the following two nights I had trouble sleeping because of how mad and upset I was at the locals.

On his fourth day (our fifth), Clement had to catch a becak at 7am, so he had to wake up early and take off from OONG at 6:30am to hike back to the entrance of the town where the becaks are. At first, the staff from OONG said it was way to early for them to be able to wake up. Ximena and I (were at no longer at OONG but at Yulia then, but we can by the night before to ensure that he would be taken care of) had to shame them and insist for them to accept to get up and accompany Clement to the becak. Unbelievable!

I need some serious meditation training and learn to manage my emotions better as I tend to let my anger take over control to often.

The rest of our stay on the island was spectacular. The day before moving to Yulia's we bumped into David and Sara, great Spanish couple we had met at Toba, as well as Ken, Australian retire whom we also met at Toba. They checked in at Yulia as well. The yaniff crew was reunited at last. Lol

The remaining 5 days, we went diving every single day. What amazing dive sites, especially the Canyon, which we almost didn't do, as we had initially planned to leave the night before.

Our favorite dive master/instructor at Tirta Diving was Alberto, a hilarious early 30's Italian who has been to the best dive sites in the region and who was the most passionate staff of the whole shop.

Best food and coconut shake at Deedee's. Best banana and chocolate pancake at Dolphin's. Best banana poridge at Yulia's.

Our last afternoon on the island, we decided to rent a scooter and venture around to see the rest of the paradise island we had been on for a week already. Ha, finding a place that would rent us a scooter with a couple of drops of gasoline to get us started was quite a hassle. We need up finding one at last, but no helmets. When I asked about helmets, I was told by a bunch of men at the same time 'helmet no need, no polisi on island'. Does that tell you about the level of education of the people here, or what!? When i told them that helmets were for personal safety and not for the police, they didn't seem to get it. :-S

The ride around the island was just magical. Aside my very bad skills at manoeuvering a scooter down steep very curvy hair pin roads, I did quite well for the overall drive.

Slaloming between the flocks of cows, buffaloes, goats, monkeys...

The other coast of the island was nothing like the coast we were staying on. No tourists, barely any villages, white beaches, the jungle hovering the road with its red and brown foliage and dead leafs carpeting  half of the road space. The sky was of a dark grey, and the wind was blowing very strong and horizontally, creating a continuous ballet of leafs in the sky and pretty much at eye level on the road...and when the flying foxes appeared by the dozens above our heads, it made the ride even more 'hitchcokian' of a scene, and made us wonder if the world was going to end at the end of the road. Fantastic!

And then, after a week...came the time to pay farewell to this piece of heaven...direction Banda Aceh, right on time for the beginning of Ramadan.