Tuesday, 25 August 2015
Monday, 24 August 2015
MEDAN & BRASTAGI, North Sumatra
24 April 1996 Medan, Sumatra
We joined the queue waiting to board before realising we first had to exchange our ticket for a boarding card at the Tourist Office at the harbour.
After six hours sailing we took a coach to Medan and were met by the usual crowd of touts since most of us were without reservations for rooms. We decided to find a little space for discussion and decided to explore the possibilities on foot, but were pursued by one with good English who agreed to take us to the Irwana, our choice, as requested for 500rupiah and we set off in his car, a rather long route then recognised we were more or less back where we started and on being taken to a GH of his choice we refused to look at the room thinking we were being ripped off. He took us to the Irwana as originally requested and we took a bed in a small two bunk bed room, in a place full of military personnel. When we returned to pay the driver he wanted 5000r not the 500r he had originally asked for, we eventually gave him 4000r. Almost certainly the house to which he originally took us would have been a better choice All the mistrust derived from his intention to take us to 'his' place, followed by his exaggeration of the distance by road.
Whilst paying off the taxi we ran into a young Dutch couple who were looking for accommodation and found none so we offered them the other two beds in our room. Not brilliant for there were mosquitoes and not even a fan, the most uncomfortable night yet I recorded.
Before retiring we got a fine meal in a local restaurant spicy mixed vegetables and tofu. By way of receipt we were handed a menu listing the 20 foods on offer in Malay with ticks against those we had ordered possibly in reward for my attempts to speak Malay, an aid to extend my vocabulary.
25 April 1996 Brastagi
Taxi 8km to the bus station where we got a seat on a crowded bus and started to speak to the lad in the next seat only to find his English was much better than my Malay/Indonesian. Hearing my English Juliater Tarigan came to sit on the other side and rather rudely I thought he took over. First impressions are not final since we are still in contact as I write 19 years later he is married with a family, owns his own house and runs the English School in Kuta Bali teaching adults English to Indonesian and Indonesian to 'western' ex-patriots. However on return to Medan at the very end of our stay in Sumatra on the very same bus route we were delighted to meet up with the first boy then on his way to work with a bank.
Juliater was then a student in Medan learning to be an English teacher. He took us through his books on Physics and Biology and Phonics which we found extremely detailed more interested in highly detailed vocabulary (parts of the mouth for example) rather than scientific principles. He also explained the hierarchy of names as they passed through the generations though I can recall only how complex they seemed.
We got off together in the centre of Brastagi and he walked round with us during our search for accommodation, passing by his suggestion of a hotel complex and finally settling on a beautiful wooden house De Merel where we were offered a big double room with a verandah looking out on the mountains. It was not in the LP
There were I think just 5 rooms in all, plus a separate
building alongside as kitchen and for breakfast.
It was an excellent choice for quality of accommodation, welcome, and company of other backpackers.
Ben had been an accountant with Exxon in Marketing and Computerisation, like me he had very positive memories of work and had also retired like me at 60, but was slightly older at 63. He had just lost his wife in a mountaineering accident, 'at least she died doing something she loved', and joined up with Jan who had taught Home Economics and had daughters of 27 and 29. They had taken the only room with bath for 7500r and had rejected a room in a hotel without bath for 25,000r. A day later we were joined by three recent young graduate backpackers, Tim Natasha and Caryn who had already spent many months in India, Sri Lanka, and Thailand, Caryn had already been to Australia where the other two intended to end their journey.
Juliater came round at breakfast time and invited to take all us all to his own village of Lingga. We gladly agreed and spent several happy days together as a group and first had to report to the tourist office and met the headman who appointed a guide to show us round the village. We were offered to choose from a few mementos, Joan opted for the most expensive a small well carved tower with the three gods of the earth, the middle and the sky on top and a receptacle for medicine - which was in this way blessed.
Lingga still had echoes of a traditional way of life now augmented by single family wooden houses. The older large houses were built for 8 related families, the girls had to marry into a different ethnic group of which there were five. At 17 the boys had to leave for a boys only house, they attracted a girl at night with a flute and if receptive she would look out of the window. There was no sex before marriage, Juliater expected to marry at 25.
The big houses were always entered from the front up 3 step ladder touching the longer left side on the way up to pay respect to the sky god or the right hand side on going down to pay respects to the earth god, the house representing the middle. The house was divided into four equal sectors, each had a fire and hearth in the centre using the a common smoke exit, with elaborate structures above for drying wood and smoking food.
Finally we visited what once was the specially decorative king's
house, but such village king's ceased to exist after the independence of
Indonesia from the Dutch, 51 years earlier, to be replaced by a
democratically elected 'headman'. The King's wife always gave birth outside in full view of the villagers so there should be no doubt of parentage, our guide posed as a wife giving birth.
As we left we couldn't fail to notice the the cigarettes left alight on Betel leaves in the fork of sticks stuck in the ground as a peace offerings to the god of the volcano, some were still burning, we weren't the first to pay our respects this day.
To descent we first climbed to a Col and then walked down man made steps which slowly deteriorated due to frequent flooding so that although the concrete risers were still in position the horizontal steps had disappeared to leave hollows. The technique was thus to step with precision from riser to riser, something which Ben and I did with ease but would be beyond my dexterity now but was difficult for Jan and particularly Joan following her 'Kuala Lumpur'.
We eventually reached a 10MW geothermal power plant and found a small cafe to regroup, further still we got to hot spring baths and took the minibus back to town most unpleasant as the exhaust pipe was broken thus releasing exhaust fumes into the cab, made even worse as we picked up passengers and sunk lower extra weight, many piled heavy loads of farm produce onto the roof rack. The surrounding country side was as fertile as that in Britain but besides cabbages etc they grew coffee.
That evening we ate Indonesian food at Il Torong. Each person was served with a bowl of rice and left to choose from 17 different dishes, chicken pieces, anchovy with chilli, spicy beef redang, jackfruit, french beans with chilly, spinach, prawns, gold fish, dried fish etc. You were charged according to what was eaten meat or fish was sold by the piece but vegetable was sold per plate partly or fully used. We finished paying 57,000r of which 22,500r was for beer, not bad at £4 each.
Jan's best friend in the Netherlands was Indonesian so she was particularly keen to make friends with the young waitress. She said she was leaving in July to marry who she had met briefly just twice. We were very concerned for her, and would have been more so today with all the exposure of people trafficking, but thought Jan would be a good contact. The Dutch had to leave Indonesia when Sukarno took power and those who had worked with the Dutch were also deported.
27 April FIRST INDONESIAN WEDDING
Juliater met us in the morning good as gold to say we were off to a wedding, he was going to take us as his friends but could not extend that to the other three backpackers. We first went to the local in Brastagi market to buy a Kain Panjang (long cloth) with Batik decoration as a wedding present, presentation would be to wrap it around the couple's shoulders thus symbolically binding them together, though in real life it is used for carrying babies.
The hall Jambur Sempakata was open to the sides for coolness and the seating was divided and marked into eight relationships, we sat with the Kalimbabu or 'uncles' family on the bridegroom's side, then there was Anak Beru or the 'aunts' and the Sembuyak or 'direct family' of bride and groom. Five Clans were involved Tarigan (Juliater's, Ginting, Sembiring, Peranjin-Augin and Karo-Karuth.
The concrete floor was covered in bamboo mats, everyone was sitting and talking bual berbual. The women were all in highly coloured clothes and head dresses, we were encouraged to take pictures as we wandered freely around and soon ran out of film so Juliater went to Kabanjahe to buy more.
The Bride and Groom were sat on their settee displaying their finery and jewelry as though on their throne
They had in fact been married in church the day before, but had been together for a while, the logic being don't marry until you can afford it. The Groom was around 35 years old and a school teacher, many of his pupils were guests.
On arrival we had been greeted by we were by two lines of people forming the welcoming party
When we finally sat down in our appointed section we were each given a 100R coin, like every other guest, which is still stuck into my notebook.
During the actual ceremony important family stood on three sides Direct family, Uncle's family and Aunt's family of the seated couple. Several spoke seriously in turn using a microphone, one broke down in tears on talking of a recent death. Then they split into two groups male and female and began dancing bending knees and lifting arms in rhythm with the bride and groom at the head. Guests danced up to the bride and gave her money, I danced up and on Juliater's advice stuck a 1000r note between her fingers. Then the Bride and Groom sat back to back facing outwards on the ceremonial chair and received presents including our Kain Panjang.
Finally we all sat down and were served with food which of course we ate with our rather unaccustomed clumsy hands.
We met Ida an more academic relation of Juliater's who was studying English at Medan University. In fact her spoken English was not a patch on Juliater's.
Having eaten guests rapidly disappeared leaving the washing up to the Anak Beru 'Aunts' of course. Two bus rides took us to the impressive vertical drop of the water fall Si Piso Piso which fell into Lake Toba thus providing our first glimpse of the lake. We bused back together to Kabanjahe and were Juliater wanted us to see a friend's banana stall, finally we parted he taking a bus to Lingga and we to Brastagi.
Juliater told us about family he had been brought up by a single mum who had been left by his father who married a second wife, polygamy previously rife but now forbidden because a large part of his people had converted to be Christian Protestants. His mother earned enough in 1996 by labour in the fields to pay 1500R/month for his schooling after the age of 14, primary education was provided free by the state from Age 7 to 13. No wonder he thought the world of his mum and rarely mentioned his dad.
Government run universities like Medan cost 40,000r/month. Average salary was around 150,000r/month maybe 400,000r for a well paid job in Medan.
When Ferdinand's (I think he was in charge of De Merel) dad first owned orange trees. He financed his own education in Tourism and Catering by working in a restaurant. Juliater feels obliged to work his 3 month summer vacation in the fields.
Married couples have small families because of the stigma of having bigger ones. Both Juliater and Ferdinand come from families of four children. If a husband dies then his brother takes over the wife and family in a short ceremony, if a wife dies her sister takes her role.
Sunday 28 April
A rest day for catching up with diary and talking to Ferdinand about Karo people and Tim , Natasha and Caryn about their travel experiences.
We are really enjoying Brastagi, the friendliness of Ferdinand, Didi and De Merel and the companionship of the other backpackers. At only 1400m it is cool for near equator, T-shirt weather, with more cloud than blue sky, rain every day, everywhere is green and fertile. Like a good day in Wales.
Ferdinand took a lot of trouble to teach me Indonesian, asking questions, providing instructions and answers. Showing a Karo book with its own picture script. Always joking, challenging me to walk up and down the steps to the kitchen with a tray on my head to keep it dry, or to walk up and down the verandah with a large water bottle on my head, impossible at first but culminating in 5 traverses with a little dancing. He cooked us a fine vegetarian dinner.
Monday 30 April
Rained at first then clear, the opposite of the norm. Went on a local bus to Kabanjahe down winding country lanes, through little villages a la Pembokeshire except that the headgear and animals were different.
I was able to converse with the women on the bus using my new found ability with the language, such conversations were always good humoured and full of laughter. Walked around the lake shore of Loh Kawar. The women working in the fields were always friendly, cultivating beans bancis, potatoes kengang and cabbage. We had to walk back from the lake because tghe conductor had warned us the bus didn't always make the detour, passed water buffaloes, or a flock of goats, feeding in the hedgerows. By the time we got back to De Merel it was raining heavily but we went into town to eat with the young Brits.
We joined the queue waiting to board before realising we first had to exchange our ticket for a boarding card at the Tourist Office at the harbour.
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| Queue for ferry to Medan |
Whilst paying off the taxi we ran into a young Dutch couple who were looking for accommodation and found none so we offered them the other two beds in our room. Not brilliant for there were mosquitoes and not even a fan, the most uncomfortable night yet I recorded.
Before retiring we got a fine meal in a local restaurant spicy mixed vegetables and tofu. By way of receipt we were handed a menu listing the 20 foods on offer in Malay with ticks against those we had ordered possibly in reward for my attempts to speak Malay, an aid to extend my vocabulary.
25 April 1996 Brastagi
Taxi 8km to the bus station where we got a seat on a crowded bus and started to speak to the lad in the next seat only to find his English was much better than my Malay/Indonesian. Hearing my English Juliater Tarigan came to sit on the other side and rather rudely I thought he took over. First impressions are not final since we are still in contact as I write 19 years later he is married with a family, owns his own house and runs the English School in Kuta Bali teaching adults English to Indonesian and Indonesian to 'western' ex-patriots. However on return to Medan at the very end of our stay in Sumatra on the very same bus route we were delighted to meet up with the first boy then on his way to work with a bank.
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| Juliater in his first job as teacher in a school near Lingga his home town |
We got off together in the centre of Brastagi and he walked round with us during our search for accommodation, passing by his suggestion of a hotel complex and finally settling on a beautiful wooden house De Merel where we were offered a big double room with a verandah looking out on the mountains. It was not in the LP
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| De Merel, Brastagi |
It was an excellent choice for quality of accommodation, welcome, and company of other backpackers.
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| Dutch couple Jan and Ben with Joan and two great young hosts |
Juliater came round at breakfast time and invited to take all us all to his own village of Lingga. We gladly agreed and spent several happy days together as a group and first had to report to the tourist office and met the headman who appointed a guide to show us round the village. We were offered to choose from a few mementos, Joan opted for the most expensive a small well carved tower with the three gods of the earth, the middle and the sky on top and a receptacle for medicine - which was in this way blessed.
Lingga still had echoes of a traditional way of life now augmented by single family wooden houses. The older large houses were built for 8 related families, the girls had to marry into a different ethnic group of which there were five. At 17 the boys had to leave for a boys only house, they attracted a girl at night with a flute and if receptive she would look out of the window. There was no sex before marriage, Juliater expected to marry at 25.
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| The Village of Lingga near Brastagi |
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| The Decorated Kings House, Lingga |
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| How to give birth in full view (NB the higher left hand pole of step ladder)
I gave Juliater 4,000r with which he was delighted and said he would take us to a wedding.
26 April
After an early breakfast Didi, the assistant at De Merel led Ben, Jan and us out on a climb of the local volcano Gunung Sibayak. It was a pleasant track paved with stone passed noisy gysers billowing steam, leading finally to concrete steps at the summit.
I couldn't resist the temptation to go down into the sulphurous wet crater.
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| Didi and I in the crater of Gunung Sabayak, Brastagi |
To descent we first climbed to a Col and then walked down man made steps which slowly deteriorated due to frequent flooding so that although the concrete risers were still in position the horizontal steps had disappeared to leave hollows. The technique was thus to step with precision from riser to riser, something which Ben and I did with ease but would be beyond my dexterity now but was difficult for Jan and particularly Joan following her 'Kuala Lumpur'.
We eventually reached a 10MW geothermal power plant and found a small cafe to regroup, further still we got to hot spring baths and took the minibus back to town most unpleasant as the exhaust pipe was broken thus releasing exhaust fumes into the cab, made even worse as we picked up passengers and sunk lower extra weight, many piled heavy loads of farm produce onto the roof rack. The surrounding country side was as fertile as that in Britain but besides cabbages etc they grew coffee.
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| Joan, Jan, Juliater and Ben and a minibus |
Jan's best friend in the Netherlands was Indonesian so she was particularly keen to make friends with the young waitress. She said she was leaving in July to marry who she had met briefly just twice. We were very concerned for her, and would have been more so today with all the exposure of people trafficking, but thought Jan would be a good contact. The Dutch had to leave Indonesia when Sukarno took power and those who had worked with the Dutch were also deported.
27 April FIRST INDONESIAN WEDDING
Juliater met us in the morning good as gold to say we were off to a wedding, he was going to take us as his friends but could not extend that to the other three backpackers. We first went to the local in Brastagi market to buy a Kain Panjang (long cloth) with Batik decoration as a wedding present, presentation would be to wrap it around the couple's shoulders thus symbolically binding them together, though in real life it is used for carrying babies.
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| Juliater and Brian buying Wedding Present a Kain Panjang |
The concrete floor was covered in bamboo mats, everyone was sitting and talking bual berbual. The women were all in highly coloured clothes and head dresses, we were encouraged to take pictures as we wandered freely around and soon ran out of film so Juliater went to Kabanjahe to buy more.
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| Guests at Wedding near Brastagi |
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| GROOM AND BRIDE |
On arrival we had been greeted by we were by two lines of people forming the welcoming party
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| The Greeting Party presumably direct relations of bride and groom |
During the actual ceremony important family stood on three sides Direct family, Uncle's family and Aunt's family of the seated couple. Several spoke seriously in turn using a microphone, one broke down in tears on talking of a recent death. Then they split into two groups male and female and began dancing bending knees and lifting arms in rhythm with the bride and groom at the head. Guests danced up to the bride and gave her money, I danced up and on Juliater's advice stuck a 1000r note between her fingers. Then the Bride and Groom sat back to back facing outwards on the ceremonial chair and received presents including our Kain Panjang.
Finally we all sat down and were served with food which of course we ate with our rather unaccustomed clumsy hands.
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| PROPER EATING INDONESIAN STYLE |
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| JULIATER, JOAN AND IDA |
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| Banana Wholesale Stall at Kabanjahe Market |
Government run universities like Medan cost 40,000r/month. Average salary was around 150,000r/month maybe 400,000r for a well paid job in Medan.
When Ferdinand's (I think he was in charge of De Merel) dad first owned orange trees. He financed his own education in Tourism and Catering by working in a restaurant. Juliater feels obliged to work his 3 month summer vacation in the fields.
Married couples have small families because of the stigma of having bigger ones. Both Juliater and Ferdinand come from families of four children. If a husband dies then his brother takes over the wife and family in a short ceremony, if a wife dies her sister takes her role.
Sunday 28 April
A rest day for catching up with diary and talking to Ferdinand about Karo people and Tim , Natasha and Caryn about their travel experiences.
We are really enjoying Brastagi, the friendliness of Ferdinand, Didi and De Merel and the companionship of the other backpackers. At only 1400m it is cool for near equator, T-shirt weather, with more cloud than blue sky, rain every day, everywhere is green and fertile. Like a good day in Wales.
Ferdinand took a lot of trouble to teach me Indonesian, asking questions, providing instructions and answers. Showing a Karo book with its own picture script. Always joking, challenging me to walk up and down the steps to the kitchen with a tray on my head to keep it dry, or to walk up and down the verandah with a large water bottle on my head, impossible at first but culminating in 5 traverses with a little dancing. He cooked us a fine vegetarian dinner.
Monday 30 April
Rained at first then clear, the opposite of the norm. Went on a local bus to Kabanjahe down winding country lanes, through little villages a la Pembokeshire except that the headgear and animals were different.
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| Country Lane near Kababjahe |
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| KANBANJAHE MARKET note the Weigh Scale |
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| RICE SELLER at KANBANJAHE MARKET |
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| CLOTHES SELLER at KANBANJAHE MARKET |
I was able to converse with the women on the bus using my new found ability with the language, such conversations were always good humoured and full of laughter. Walked around the lake shore of Loh Kawar. The women working in the fields were always friendly, cultivating beans bancis, potatoes kengang and cabbage. We had to walk back from the lake because tghe conductor had warned us the bus didn't always make the detour, passed water buffaloes, or a flock of goats, feeding in the hedgerows. By the time we got back to De Merel it was raining heavily but we went into town to eat with the young Brits.
Sunday, 23 August 2015
LAKE TOBA
April 30
We had had enough of the weather but wondered which direction to head, west via the central highlands then back down the coast, but Joan's preference was to head for Bukittinggi east on the other coast. Ferdinand met us on the street stopped a mini bus and told us it was going to Kabanjahe. At the bus station we were bundled off and were almost immediately on a bus to Siander for 1700r, a quick change to a minibus and we were off to Prapat on the edge of Lake Toba for a further 1000r.
Some time on this crushed journey I must have picked up a couple of fleas which were troublesome for a few nights until we twigged the bites were always occurring under clothing, a complete change whilst the clothes we washed and sleeping in swim shorts did the trick.
The market was just packing up but the usual crowd, surrounded us, buy your tourist bus ticket to Bukittinggi now, buy your ferry ticket to cross to the island (in fact they were the same price on the boat), 'what guest house'? The lad who asked me that last question was representing Christina's who we had already decided to try based on the advice of Maria from the Torong restaurant in Brastagi. We escaped the crowd by the simple tactic of going to a restaurant on the opposite side of the square, but even then we were approached by a polite talking about Samosir cottages but he disappeared when our food appeared. The ferry took about 40 minutes and seemed to go to the popular guest houses around the shore of the small peninsular Tuk Tuk facing Prapat, on the large island of Samosir which dominates Lake Toba. We were impressed by our first view, undeniably totally touristy but low level, very calm and with pleasant gardens.
Christina's hotel had somewhat older Batak style huts complemented by brick built bungalows but maintaining the same roof line. It had a lovely wooden door, a tiled floor and a lovely garden and two nice beds. The owner Rencita and some girls ran the place well, but like the rest of Tuk-Tuk it was virtually empty of custom.
That evening we walked from Christina's right through Tuk Tuk and back via the short cut to Church Road, proximity makes it an ideal location as near Tomluk as Tuk-Tuk. We ate at Christina's Joan did particularly well having chosen the Indonesian special Gado Gado, boiled vegetables with peanut sauce topped with a boiled egg, peanuts being fried with onion, garlic and chilli.
So to bed and a night of agony from bites. Joan eventually persuaded me to relax by holding my hand and sleep by 6am! Was it the result of bites in Loh Kawar, on our evening walk for there were clouds of midges in shaded area at dusk, or something biting in my bed.
1 May 1996
Although getting up late we made good use of the day by walking to Amborita, then by ride and bus to the museum in the Batak houses at Simanindo. Noted a German/Dutch couple got of a Shangri La, a remote GH which could be interesting given sufficient good company.
First impressions of the museum were spoilt by a woman who took us straight into a show house which turned out to be a shop! The museum in a different very small Batak building was full of interesting and highly relevant exhibits. Beside the museum was an old dugout war canoe, oars, fishnets and fish traps.
We got a lift back in a van carrying containers of rice wine which was full of an alcoholic smell. for an extra 1000r we saw the Elephant Grave (King and Queen) in Tomluk and listened to the spiel of a tour guide to a party of Dutch tourists. Then a pleasant hour long walk back to Christina's followed by another terrible night getting bit even worse, but handled much better than the night before. Rising hourly to stand naked in the mandi (water room) pouring water over my back and immersing my arms to the elbow. By morning I was of the opinion the problem was fleas under all clothing especially trousers and socks, notable because all the bites were in straight lines, but none were on face, head, neck or ears.
2 May
Joan washed out all of my clothes even my boots went out to be aired by the sun. We had breakfast with a British girl who was returning from two years working with VSO on the archipelago between Fiji and Australia where, as a PE teacher, she had set up PE for the islands. Unfortunately she didn't feel much had been achieved for complete lack of funding for her project, but luckily the Australian embassy could find some having a large fund as a reward for the islands support for their application for the Olympic Games.
A welcome swim in the lake which had an ideal warm temperature. After which I was sitting in a comfortable chair on the verandah writing this diary, listening to the water lap onto the shore, watching locals go about their lives washing both themselves and their clothes in the lake, hoeing the garden, baiting the nets on large bamboo structures just off shore accessed by walking along a single log held in place by an x-like structure of of pairs of bamboo poles which crossed underneath the log as anchors and above as hand holds.
The sun came and went through a sky half cloud and half deep blue, and once an hour the ferry came to Christina's landing stage to deliver diesel or to collect local passengers. Breakfast and all our fruit eaten by 12.48 precisely we went in search of more food, thinking how glad I was to have chosen this place which ought to leave fond memories to erase those of itchy sleepless nights. Not noted at the time I seem to recall that bites close together but in a straight line are a sign of bed bugs, but certainly recognise they were imported on my contaminated clothing rather than Christina's bedding.
In the afternoon we found superb freshly baked brown bread and carrot cake in the little Post Office where a New Zealand (Dutch) girl looked after a small shop with a young 30ish Indonesian cripple. The shop was full of second hand books and operated as a library and sold attractive hand painted batik post cards of which we bought many finding them vastly superior to commercial offerings in Britain. We sent many such post cards back to Europe, to this day some are displayed in the house by my French daughter-in-law. There was a breakfast bar on a small balcony overlooking the lake, below was a large fish keep surrounded by stone breakwaters and inside which were giant goldfish which grow to 15kg. The bread was toasted and gorgeous so that we vowed to go back next day for breakfast.
Friday 3 May
At breakfast the bread was steaming hot from baking. We ate with the postman who took our cards and a Finnish woman who had just left her job selling financial services for Reuters in order to travel in South Asia for six months. She was very interesting and had liked Sulawesi best of all but also Bali and Lombok and the Maluccas.
Walked to Ambarita where this time we found the stones and a old wizened possibly alcoholic guide who told us the history in remarkably good English. There was a prison under a Batak House and a circle of chairs to form a court with a bowl of fish representing spirits. Nearby was a large stone where a condemned man was repeatedly stabbed so he would lose blood and consciousness then to another stone where he got me to lay down and put my head on the block whilst he demonstrated the beheading ceremony. Back to the first stone for butchering the corpse and distributing it to the local people who were cannibals. The king drank the blood to give him extra strength.
We talked to Johnny an Indonesian who had gone to Holland with his family on independence and had now returned to work here for a Dutch company as a tour guide. He was very quietly spoken with a sympathetic manner and like Joan a keen interest in nature, who was now trying to learn Indonesian. He spoke fondly of a long summer spent with friends at a remote fishing village on Corfu and sleeping on the beach. Yesterday he had been cycling and had had to stay in primitive accommodation 1000r and gained a wide understanding of poor local people.
4 May
A large crowd left on the 6:45 ferry to Prapat some with food to sell on the market.
Rencita's parents either died or deserted her as a baby and she was brought up by the family living on the island's plateau who owned the Christina GH she now ran. Our choice of food was now limited not even bread for breakfast so we had to make do with pancakes!
She was rather depressed at the thought we would leave today for Bukittinghi that would leave the GH almost empty. Times were hard for her. A final swim and we all went together to the market by ferry.
In Prapat we went to Charlie Coffee Shop where we had eaten previously but this time with a nice comfortable sprung bed in a well carpeted room for 8000r having arranged for a call at 5am so as to catch the minibus.
We had had enough of the weather but wondered which direction to head, west via the central highlands then back down the coast, but Joan's preference was to head for Bukittinggi east on the other coast. Ferdinand met us on the street stopped a mini bus and told us it was going to Kabanjahe. At the bus station we were bundled off and were almost immediately on a bus to Siander for 1700r, a quick change to a minibus and we were off to Prapat on the edge of Lake Toba for a further 1000r.
Some time on this crushed journey I must have picked up a couple of fleas which were troublesome for a few nights until we twigged the bites were always occurring under clothing, a complete change whilst the clothes we washed and sleeping in swim shorts did the trick.
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| PRAPAT MARKET closing down |
Christina's hotel had somewhat older Batak style huts complemented by brick built bungalows but maintaining the same roof line. It had a lovely wooden door, a tiled floor and a lovely garden and two nice beds. The owner Rencita and some girls ran the place well, but like the rest of Tuk-Tuk it was virtually empty of custom.
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| Christina's GH, garden and landing stage at TukTuk Toba |
So to bed and a night of agony from bites. Joan eventually persuaded me to relax by holding my hand and sleep by 6am! Was it the result of bites in Loh Kawar, on our evening walk for there were clouds of midges in shaded area at dusk, or something biting in my bed.
1 May 1996
Although getting up late we made good use of the day by walking to Amborita, then by ride and bus to the museum in the Batak houses at Simanindo. Noted a German/Dutch couple got of a Shangri La, a remote GH which could be interesting given sufficient good company.
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| BATAK design on house TOBA |
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| Toba, Dug Out canoe |
We got a lift back in a van carrying containers of rice wine which was full of an alcoholic smell. for an extra 1000r we saw the Elephant Grave (King and Queen) in Tomluk and listened to the spiel of a tour guide to a party of Dutch tourists. Then a pleasant hour long walk back to Christina's followed by another terrible night getting bit even worse, but handled much better than the night before. Rising hourly to stand naked in the mandi (water room) pouring water over my back and immersing my arms to the elbow. By morning I was of the opinion the problem was fleas under all clothing especially trousers and socks, notable because all the bites were in straight lines, but none were on face, head, neck or ears.
2 May
Joan washed out all of my clothes even my boots went out to be aired by the sun. We had breakfast with a British girl who was returning from two years working with VSO on the archipelago between Fiji and Australia where, as a PE teacher, she had set up PE for the islands. Unfortunately she didn't feel much had been achieved for complete lack of funding for her project, but luckily the Australian embassy could find some having a large fund as a reward for the islands support for their application for the Olympic Games.
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| Ferry approaches Chistina's GH |
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| Washing in Lake Toba at Christina's in Tuk Tuk |
In the afternoon we found superb freshly baked brown bread and carrot cake in the little Post Office where a New Zealand (Dutch) girl looked after a small shop with a young 30ish Indonesian cripple. The shop was full of second hand books and operated as a library and sold attractive hand painted batik post cards of which we bought many finding them vastly superior to commercial offerings in Britain. We sent many such post cards back to Europe, to this day some are displayed in the house by my French daughter-in-law. There was a breakfast bar on a small balcony overlooking the lake, below was a large fish keep surrounded by stone breakwaters and inside which were giant goldfish which grow to 15kg. The bread was toasted and gorgeous so that we vowed to go back next day for breakfast.
Friday 3 May
At breakfast the bread was steaming hot from baking. We ate with the postman who took our cards and a Finnish woman who had just left her job selling financial services for Reuters in order to travel in South Asia for six months. She was very interesting and had liked Sulawesi best of all but also Bali and Lombok and the Maluccas.
Walked to Ambarita where this time we found the stones and a old wizened possibly alcoholic guide who told us the history in remarkably good English. There was a prison under a Batak House and a circle of chairs to form a court with a bowl of fish representing spirits. Nearby was a large stone where a condemned man was repeatedly stabbed so he would lose blood and consciousness then to another stone where he got me to lay down and put my head on the block whilst he demonstrated the beheading ceremony. Back to the first stone for butchering the corpse and distributing it to the local people who were cannibals. The king drank the blood to give him extra strength.
We talked to Johnny an Indonesian who had gone to Holland with his family on independence and had now returned to work here for a Dutch company as a tour guide. He was very quietly spoken with a sympathetic manner and like Joan a keen interest in nature, who was now trying to learn Indonesian. He spoke fondly of a long summer spent with friends at a remote fishing village on Corfu and sleeping on the beach. Yesterday he had been cycling and had had to stay in primitive accommodation 1000r and gained a wide understanding of poor local people.
4 May
A large crowd left on the 6:45 ferry to Prapat some with food to sell on the market.
Rencita's parents either died or deserted her as a baby and she was brought up by the family living on the island's plateau who owned the Christina GH she now ran. Our choice of food was now limited not even bread for breakfast so we had to make do with pancakes!
She was rather depressed at the thought we would leave today for Bukittinghi that would leave the GH almost empty. Times were hard for her. A final swim and we all went together to the market by ferry.
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| Lake Toba Ferry from Prapat around Tuk Tuk peninsula |
Saturday, 22 August 2015
BUKITTINGGI and LAKE MANINJAU, West Sumatra
5 May 1996 Minibus to Bukittinggi
The bus set off at 6am with a fairly good complement of a dozen tourists on the Trans Sumatra Highway by British standards a mountainous B road with a bus, minibus or lorry passing around once per minute, but no cars in this poor country, every crossing being fraught because of the narrow twisting nature of the road with a precipitous drop on one side. After four hours uphill we had to stop and wait for the overheated engine to cool, throwing three bottles of water over it to accelerate the process.
We were enjoying the magnificent scenery until we came the news that a bus from Prapat had just gone off the road with one dead. Most started to worry but a young American travelling alone was distressed to say the least. He had been working in Japan for two years teaching English. Two Dutch couples one young the other middle aged, an American couple from Alaska who we had met in Prapat, two Dutch girls who had been at De Merel seemed very uncommunicative in their own world, I wondered if they were lesbian, and the Finnish with whom we seemed to have a similar taste in restaurants for we kept bumping into each other. In Bukittinggi she recommended the local delicacy avocado on toast for breakfasts, good advice.
The striking memory from that journey taking a full twelve
hours was of the lone tired young driver. In order to ensure he stayed awake after on stop he dipped his cigarettes in strong coffee before smoking them. We think he might have to drive back with another load of passengers after a short nights sleep.
Dumped by the driver in Jalan Almad Yani (the main street) we went in search of somewhere to sleep, the offerings were expensive poor quality, fusty rooms but refused to bargain. No doubt they realised we had little choice in the dark.
6 May
The next morning after avocado and toast in a restaurant we went higher up the hill and found the area of good tourist grade accommodation with superb mountain views and settled on the Wisma Bukittinggi, for the same price 10,000r, but excellent roomy accommodation with opening windows and including breakfast.
Exchanged 400USD (probably travellers cheques in 1996) to rupiah at 1$:2300r exchange rate. Now holding 1.22 million rupiah!
Decided to do our own exploration following the map in our Periplus Guide. Minibus to bus station, bus to PadangPanjang, minibus to Batipur where we intended to visit the men's house (surau?). In fact we got talking to Hendri an 18 year old studying his last year of Tourism and went passed the Surau and instead accompanied him to his village, a fair walk over open ground. His mother ran the village coffee shop, but it was closed so he opened it up and made coffee. Soon his mother, grandfather, grandmother and lots of kids arrived.
Not only were we given coffee but also some local food, rice ground and prepared in banana leavesin squares with jack fruit, cassava, green beans, coconut, lightly flavoured with chilli, for desert we had ground rice mixed with coconut milk in young banana leaves.
We kept contact with Hendri for some time, unthinkingly putting him on our Christmas card list, he replied thanking us but gently pointing out that he was Muslim. Later we heard from him that his mother's Coffee Shop had burned down and they had lost all their possessions. He was delighted that we were able to send him copies of the photographs we had taken of his mum in the shop.
After lunch we went a further stroll round the village with Hendri and saw the range of beautifully green vegetation, banana, coffee, cinnamon (bark), cassava, sweet potato root, apparently grown as a communal asset.
From there we went to the water wheels, there were seven in total, some ground coffee others rice - clearly identifiable by the colour of the dust inside. It was simply a mechanised pestle and mortar grinding technique the rotation of the cams lifting around six poles in turn and let them drop into the giant pestle below. Two women scraped the ground coffee from under the dropping poles and transferred it to a sieve, their main job being to constantly shake these sieves, the finely ground ground coffee went through a drum into sacks and the coarser residue was returned to the mill. Presumably the sacks went to market. In essence this village looked like a cooperative covering food production, scenic gardens and small water powered grinding factories.
It was such a friendly place, everyone seemed pleased to see us and it was as though we were Pied Piper for hoards of children followed us wherever we went. Unfortunately just as we needed it most to photograph in the dim light of the mills Joan's camera battery ran out.
Hendri showed us the way out to the road and advised us to get a bus to Padang Panjang followed by one out to Pariangan and warned us the buses would appear to have no room. They were indeed crammed but we were never anything but welcomed aboard, but then as usual we were the only tourists, the conventional way to see these villages was by buying a mini-bus tour.
Pariangan was full of older buildings including a Men's house with a hot spring, and a giants grave kuburau panjang. Unlike Hendri's village this was on the normal tourist mini bus tour route, it was as green but far less demonstrative of a traditional way of life.
On the bus back to Bukittinggi we got a speaking to a 14 year old girl called Yeni, she spoke amazingly good English and helped me with my Indonesian on request we exchanged addresses. Like many of the young we met they were delighted to find they could actually communicate with us in English - a sign of widespread good teaching and the pupils enthusiasm for learning. It was surprising also how many older people had some grasp on the language via survival (trade) contact with independent tourists.
The buses had been full of schoolchildren, all the girls were wearing attractive headscarves for this was the first time we had ever travelled in a Muslim country, and we were totally surprised to find them very friendly and the girls above all fun loving. Indonesia is 100% Muslim, the exceptions are Batak areas in Sumatra, as we have seen, where many have been converted to Christianity and Bali with its Hindus. We have since been in many Muslim countries across Asia, plus Turkey, and those positive views have never been challenged.
Padang food for dinner was too 'hot' for Joan, crispy beef slices, Redang, Tomatoes and Chilli. The hotel under construction next door from 8am to 11pm speaks of the increasing tourist boom.
7 May
A second successful day of exploration. Bus direct to Batu Sangkar, which seemed much nicer than Bukittinggi, then a minibus to Padang Seminyak where a King's Palace had been reconstructed after being burnt down in 1976. It was beautiful quite the most impressive building of the Kerban (buffalo) style so far seen. Inside walls hung with beautiful fabrics. The upstairs held some of the porcelain and other artifacts saved from the fire.
People at the bus station are almost universally helpful
asking where you are going and then going out of their way to find your
bus. Buses run frequently so little time is wasted waiting, in contrast
you often need a second mini bus to get to the main bus station.
In the afternoon at the bus station we met one of the attendants who had helped us the day before, he was from our destination Balimbing and so introduced us to a man going back to the village. He came with us and all he asked was that we paid his fare (peanuts for us), he was a shopkeeper and spoke reasonable English.
We walked through the show village of Balimbing which was full of houses but not that impressive because of poor repair and the lack of decoration, one very old specimen was still inhabited by an old woman. Walking back to the bus we stopped in a cafe and photographed the interestingly dressed old men in hats and later that of a far younger man who was the headman of the village who wore a Harley Davison belt and consequently looked like an American westerner.
Soon surrounded by a hoard of children, it was surprising how my small knowledge of Indonesian helped to break the ice.
At Umbilin on lake Singkarak there was an impressively fast race leading into the river, we wondered if they intended to develop hydro power. Thereafter the bus was really slow seemingly stopping every few metres to let passengers off. It was 5pm when we were dropped of the bus at just the right place and shown the direction to a village where at 5pm was a buffalo fight Adu Kerbau. Almost we were told sudah (already) for we were too late, we walked on but were soon met by the returning hoards and the buffaloes.
The event was amazingly well attended by locals who apparently bet furiously, there were two fights and completed in 30 mins. For once we could not match the time keeping of the organised tour, but then they didn't have local guides or tea with a headman.
that evening we ate in a Chinese restaurant, the Golden Leaf, and a guide Efi persuaded Joan to take a 4 day trek which had an excellent write up, but the next departure was 6 days away and we had to move on.
8 May
We joined a Dutch couple Ria who was from Surinam and Case (Cornelius) for a walk through the canyon at Bukittinggi, when a couple of locals told us we had passed the turning through paddy fields and without being asked accompanied us back and becoming our guides.
They were excellent company and very informative, we learned for instance that lemon grass oil was used as a mosquito repellent, papaya leaves from the flowering tree were boiled down to quinine and given daily to children from 2 to 10 who then had lifelong protection against malaria. Showed us roots which were used to calm bites with mint and camphor, almost a ready made Tiger Balm.
We crossed and recrossed the river at the bottom of the canyon by wading and the climbed to the village of Koto Gadang. It was full of silver smiths working in filigree where we bought several delicate exquisite ear rings for 10,000r each (just over 4USD). Each couple also gave 10,000r to thank our self appointed guides.
A quick mandi and we set off with Ria and Case for Danan Maninjau. The bus journey was double interesting for the steep twisting descent in the pink evening sunset and for the company of a local teacher Phillies and some restaurants including 44 Bo-Bo and ??. She will come to Phillies home-stay to meet us on Sunday, where she apparently often stays for a short break from the isolation of her village school.
That evening we tried out the restaurant Srikandi following the advice of those running Phillies. By common consent it was the finest food we had had in Indonesia, an opinion that held for the rest of the trip.
Ria and Case both had Fried Noodles and Gado Gado
I had a large steak of Sweet and Sour Fish
Joan had a Stir fry with beef and ginger.
The cooking was superb by any standards but it took a long time to prepare since everything was individually cooked by wok and our table was the last served. That wouldn't have mattered so much had we not been dying of hunger having only eaten banana on toast for breakfast and a cake snack.
9 May
I am writing this sitting on a large balcony at Phillies overlooking the lake. The children in the next door are having a school holiday party and laughing as they appear to do all night. The local women are bathing, washing and gossiping.
The local fishermen glide slowly around their nets in dugout canoes. At first light the other side of the lake was obscured by mist which has lifted to reveal a wonderful day. The water is crystal clear so that the limbs of the swimmers are clearly outlined. Joan is going to become a swimming coach!
Kota Gadang village is apparently well known as a breeding ground of eminent politicians recognised in Holland. It's legacy is one of the few school systems set up by the Dutch from which the local populace also benefited. The village is full of elegant Dutch colonial houses, Ria mused of turning one into a Wisma.
A lazy day, relaxing, swimming, getting sun burnt, reading, eating at Shrikandi; beginning to think Maninjau was going to be a locus eating stay in a western enclave.
Friday 10 May
We decided to take a bus back towards Bukittinggi as far as Matur and the take bemos (mini bus) to Lawang, Lawang Top and Puncak Lawang. But missed the bus because we stopped to buy water. Fearing the next bus would be another hour my mod worsened as the bus receded into the distance. The the gentle hassle started from a boy sitting on a nearby wall, 'hire a minibus, not expensive 20,000r', but very soon another bus arrived and the boy had disappeared, they really will keep trying it on, but that is so unnecessary given the frequency of local buses.
It was market day at Lawang so we stocked up with fruit before leaving on the bus to Puncak Lawang where there is a fine view of the north end of the lake. We walked down a steep rough track through the dense jungle full of coffee trees and cinnamon bushes, the remnants of a plantation perhaps, saw lots of butterflies and monkeys with long red tails.
After
descending an hour we came across ANAS guest house, run by a very
sympathetic man, whose wife was away at the market, playing guitar with
his son. He had lived there for 5 years having previously worked on the
oil wells at Pechan Buru where he was constantly ill but was now in his
element.
The only residents were a charming young English couple who had stayed here, isolated in the jungle, for the last 4 weeks. The young man showed us the journal started by a previous long term English resident which looked like mumbo jumbo not English, he had to break the letter code before it made sense. At the time I was not aware of the type of coding behind the Enigma code used for scrambling vital military messages, but in retrospect I conclude it must have been a similar deliberate transposition of letters.
The only light was an oil lamp, the cooking was done in a single pan over the wood fire, the water was from a natural waterfall, there was no TV, yet there were six rooms and some incredibly good write ups in their book including one very poetic piece in English by a Belgian called Franke. Definitely somewhere to try next time. We were very tempted to stay a few nights until remembering the girl village teacher we had met on the bus was coming to Phillies to meet us on Sunday. Another 90 mins downhill we were back on the lake shore.
That evening we went to the most fantastic display of all male drumming, playing and graceful dancing it has been my privilege to see. It was performed by farmers from a local village who had been doing it for 20 years, since having been shown the way to make a little money by an Aussie.
A young American had lived with them for 2 years whilst researching for a Ph.D on globalisation of cultures, joined the initial dance and introduced each session.
There were martial arts dances in pairs including defense against knife attacks.
A sort of Opera, singing to tell a story.
Drumming and music with bamboo flutes and a banana leaf reed instrument.
Drumming of intricate rhythms and using 5 gongs to give harmony. An incredibly graceful plate (bowls) dance with plates held in both hands by men whilst making intricate patterns with hands and
legs, tapping the plates with thimbles on two fingers to produce the
rhythm.
Finally
dancing by a number of men one after another on a pile of broken glass, to ensure
authenticity they broke 4 new large beer bottles and added them to the
pile before starting.
They scrubbed the glass hard with their feet after first rolling
it carefully with their hands, probably to to stabilise it by making
sharp edges dig into the mat. Then more scuffing with feet and even
wriggling on it with bare backs. It was quite horrendous. Apparently in
an extreme dance version they cut through their own stomach walls and
bring out their stomachs, which apparently heal soon after.
A Dutch couple were recording the sound and another another fat rather large American man - who I suspect was was in some sort of media job. I think he was filming, though my record is not clear on his role. The group had only arrived at 5pm after a 36 hour bus journey from Jakarta. The enthusiasm in the audience, no more numerous than the performers, was infectious. All this for 4000r ($2USD) per head, incredible.
Sat 11 May
A superb but hard walk in the mountains. Minibus to Kota Baru then up a tarmac road rising through a continual stream of houses, continuing in a partially made up form to the viewpoint of Bukit Sukora, which unlike Puncak Lawang gave a view of the whole lake and the river entrance on the far side. The step bends were being concreted, the cement being brought up by mule trains. The road had been entirely hand built without machinery, being hacked out of the rock on the inner side and carefully laid stone on the outer side.
Rocks were hand laid on both sides of the road to form a firm edge on the downside but a rain gully on the mountainside. Several, five man gangs were working at different points.
The road works continued from Sukara right along the ridge to Puncak Lawang giving spectacular views of Lake Maninjau.
Perhaps in ten years time it will be the scenic route for tourists in hire cars, but today by foot it was a steep hard climb with but a single shop as a stopping point. It took us around 3 hours on a overcast day which cleared to reveal good visibility of islands on the sea and a clear blue sky as a we reached the summit, where we ate our purchase of papaya and biscuits. Everywhere the most beautiful butterflies and dragon flies and a welcome from the people who had built homes and set up paddy fields on every piece of flat ground.
There were no buses at Lawang village so we took a mini o Matur from where we were given a lift back in a van with a load of seals to Maninjau for which they would not accept payment. We would have stopped off and made the jungle descent via ASAN homestay but Joan's legs were too tired to face willingly the tough track down, her knees and ankles were however fine giving absolutely no warning of the joint problems she was to suffer from just a year later.
Sunday 12 May
No record of meeting the Indonesian village school teacher who had intended to rejoin us all, so I guess she didn't turn up. We again lazed on the balcony this time watching the fishermen in their dugouts putting their green nets around the five areas they had pre-marked with banana leaves, and immediately hauling them back in with their catch before moving to the next marked site. Maybe the banana leaves provided the fish with shade and a hiding place or maybe they just marked the points which had been baited. There were also rods standing from the water to which were secured horizontal fishing rods, the lines being checked from time to time. Two red roofed buildings with nets and tanks were taken out to sea by a distance changed each day and controlled by ropes to the shore. Occasionally a canoe came around selling fish or collecting rubbish.
A final meal at Srikandi with the best pumpkin soup ever, it really always cooks unbelievably high quality food. Then by bus back to Bukittinggi and the Wisma who had a large party in from Exodus, the adventure tour outfit, they had been overland in Asia for seven weeks.
Also new arrivals were Louise and Phil Shambrook from Pilsley House, Bakewell, Derbyshire who are on a 60 month tandem cycle tour of the world. With one year still to go they had already cycled across America and parts of Australia and New Zealand. They do not fly but do allow travel by land on pre-arranged trains and buses and cross oceans on cargo boats. I still have the name card they gave me.Their current route includes cycling to Medan via Lake Toba then Thailand and India before retiring in New Zealand for which they already have immigrant visas. They reckon on cycling 50 miles per day but only 20 days in a month.
I had not previously realised that the power to weight ratio on a tandem was so much better than two on separate cycles, hence tandem racing produces high speeds. Reg Harris the Olympic hero of my cycling childhood raced both types of bike. Their tandem was specially built for the trip following an earlier experience of fishtailing on a 50km/hr descent. It had four brakes and they carried 22kg of luggage including a tent. They prefer to pedal seated uphill, however slowly, because the bike is so awkward to push uphill.
(Ten Years later in the Taklamaken desert of China we were to meet Lina from Latvia and Andreas from Germany on a trip of similar intent on individual cycles. He had just broken his second v cycle frame and was trying to retrieve the replacement from the Beijing customs. They finished their journey across China and then cycled across the middle of Australia and eventually settled in New Zealand where Andreas sadly died, though I never found out how.)
The bus set off at 6am with a fairly good complement of a dozen tourists on the Trans Sumatra Highway by British standards a mountainous B road with a bus, minibus or lorry passing around once per minute, but no cars in this poor country, every crossing being fraught because of the narrow twisting nature of the road with a precipitous drop on one side. After four hours uphill we had to stop and wait for the overheated engine to cool, throwing three bottles of water over it to accelerate the process.
We were enjoying the magnificent scenery until we came the news that a bus from Prapat had just gone off the road with one dead. Most started to worry but a young American travelling alone was distressed to say the least. He had been working in Japan for two years teaching English. Two Dutch couples one young the other middle aged, an American couple from Alaska who we had met in Prapat, two Dutch girls who had been at De Merel seemed very uncommunicative in their own world, I wondered if they were lesbian, and the Finnish with whom we seemed to have a similar taste in restaurants for we kept bumping into each other. In Bukittinggi she recommended the local delicacy avocado on toast for breakfasts, good advice.
The striking memory from that journey taking a full twelve
hours was of the lone tired young driver. In order to ensure he stayed awake after on stop he dipped his cigarettes in strong coffee before smoking them. We think he might have to drive back with another load of passengers after a short nights sleep.
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| Bukittingi bus station |
6 May
The next morning after avocado and toast in a restaurant we went higher up the hill and found the area of good tourist grade accommodation with superb mountain views and settled on the Wisma Bukittinggi, for the same price 10,000r, but excellent roomy accommodation with opening windows and including breakfast.
Exchanged 400USD (probably travellers cheques in 1996) to rupiah at 1$:2300r exchange rate. Now holding 1.22 million rupiah!
Decided to do our own exploration following the map in our Periplus Guide. Minibus to bus station, bus to PadangPanjang, minibus to Batipur where we intended to visit the men's house (surau?). In fact we got talking to Hendri an 18 year old studying his last year of Tourism and went passed the Surau and instead accompanied him to his village, a fair walk over open ground. His mother ran the village coffee shop, but it was closed so he opened it up and made coffee. Soon his mother, grandfather, grandmother and lots of kids arrived.
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| Hendri's mother and family in coffee shop |
We kept contact with Hendri for some time, unthinkingly putting him on our Christmas card list, he replied thanking us but gently pointing out that he was Muslim. Later we heard from him that his mother's Coffee Shop had burned down and they had lost all their possessions. He was delighted that we were able to send him copies of the photographs we had taken of his mum in the shop.
After lunch we went a further stroll round the village with Hendri and saw the range of beautifully green vegetation, banana, coffee, cinnamon (bark), cassava, sweet potato root, apparently grown as a communal asset.
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| Water driven Coffee mill, note wooden vertical piles to pound coffee |
 | ||
| A water mill manager |
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| Following the Pied Piper |
Pariangan was full of older buildings including a Men's house with a hot spring, and a giants grave kuburau panjang. Unlike Hendri's village this was on the normal tourist mini bus tour route, it was as green but far less demonstrative of a traditional way of life.
On the bus back to Bukittinggi we got a speaking to a 14 year old girl called Yeni, she spoke amazingly good English and helped me with my Indonesian on request we exchanged addresses. Like many of the young we met they were delighted to find they could actually communicate with us in English - a sign of widespread good teaching and the pupils enthusiasm for learning. It was surprising also how many older people had some grasp on the language via survival (trade) contact with independent tourists.
The buses had been full of schoolchildren, all the girls were wearing attractive headscarves for this was the first time we had ever travelled in a Muslim country, and we were totally surprised to find them very friendly and the girls above all fun loving. Indonesia is 100% Muslim, the exceptions are Batak areas in Sumatra, as we have seen, where many have been converted to Christianity and Bali with its Hindus. We have since been in many Muslim countries across Asia, plus Turkey, and those positive views have never been challenged.
Padang food for dinner was too 'hot' for Joan, crispy beef slices, Redang, Tomatoes and Chilli. The hotel under construction next door from 8am to 11pm speaks of the increasing tourist boom.
7 May
A second successful day of exploration. Bus direct to Batu Sangkar, which seemed much nicer than Bukittinggi, then a minibus to Padang Seminyak where a King's Palace had been reconstructed after being burnt down in 1976. It was beautiful quite the most impressive building of the Kerban (buffalo) style so far seen. Inside walls hung with beautiful fabrics. The upstairs held some of the porcelain and other artifacts saved from the fire.
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| Kings Palace |
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| Kings Palace |
In the afternoon at the bus station we met one of the attendants who had helped us the day before, he was from our destination Balimbing and so introduced us to a man going back to the village. He came with us and all he asked was that we paid his fare (peanuts for us), he was a shopkeeper and spoke reasonable English.
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| Traditional Show House |
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| Balimbing Village |
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| Balimbing Cafe |
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| Village Headman |
At Umbilin on lake Singkarak there was an impressively fast race leading into the river, we wondered if they intended to develop hydro power. Thereafter the bus was really slow seemingly stopping every few metres to let passengers off. It was 5pm when we were dropped of the bus at just the right place and shown the direction to a village where at 5pm was a buffalo fight Adu Kerbau. Almost we were told sudah (already) for we were too late, we walked on but were soon met by the returning hoards and the buffaloes.
 |
| Returning from Buffalo Fight |
that evening we ate in a Chinese restaurant, the Golden Leaf, and a guide Efi persuaded Joan to take a 4 day trek which had an excellent write up, but the next departure was 6 days away and we had to move on.
8 May
We joined a Dutch couple Ria who was from Surinam and Case (Cornelius) for a walk through the canyon at Bukittinggi, when a couple of locals told us we had passed the turning through paddy fields and without being asked accompanied us back and becoming our guides.
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| Ria and Brian with Case in background |
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| Canyon at Bukittinggi |
A quick mandi and we set off with Ria and Case for Danan Maninjau. The bus journey was double interesting for the steep twisting descent in the pink evening sunset and for the company of a local teacher Phillies and some restaurants including 44 Bo-Bo and ??. She will come to Phillies home-stay to meet us on Sunday, where she apparently often stays for a short break from the isolation of her village school.
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| Manager Phillies homestay, Lake Maninjau |
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| Srikandi Restaurant Lake Maninjau |
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| Drinking lemonade whilst waiting for dinner Srikandi Restaurant |
I had a large steak of Sweet and Sour Fish
Joan had a Stir fry with beef and ginger.
The cooking was superb by any standards but it took a long time to prepare since everything was individually cooked by wok and our table was the last served. That wouldn't have mattered so much had we not been dying of hunger having only eaten banana on toast for breakfast and a cake snack.
9 May
I am writing this sitting on a large balcony at Phillies overlooking the lake. The children in the next door are having a school holiday party and laughing as they appear to do all night. The local women are bathing, washing and gossiping.
 |
| View from balcony at Philli's homestay |
Kota Gadang village is apparently well known as a breeding ground of eminent politicians recognised in Holland. It's legacy is one of the few school systems set up by the Dutch from which the local populace also benefited. The village is full of elegant Dutch colonial houses, Ria mused of turning one into a Wisma.
A lazy day, relaxing, swimming, getting sun burnt, reading, eating at Shrikandi; beginning to think Maninjau was going to be a locus eating stay in a western enclave.
Friday 10 May
We decided to take a bus back towards Bukittinggi as far as Matur and the take bemos (mini bus) to Lawang, Lawang Top and Puncak Lawang. But missed the bus because we stopped to buy water. Fearing the next bus would be another hour my mod worsened as the bus receded into the distance. The the gentle hassle started from a boy sitting on a nearby wall, 'hire a minibus, not expensive 20,000r', but very soon another bus arrived and the boy had disappeared, they really will keep trying it on, but that is so unnecessary given the frequency of local buses.
It was market day at Lawang so we stocked up with fruit before leaving on the bus to Puncak Lawang where there is a fine view of the north end of the lake. We walked down a steep rough track through the dense jungle full of coffee trees and cinnamon bushes, the remnants of a plantation perhaps, saw lots of butterflies and monkeys with long red tails.
 |
| Descent via jungle path |
The only residents were a charming young English couple who had stayed here, isolated in the jungle, for the last 4 weeks. The young man showed us the journal started by a previous long term English resident which looked like mumbo jumbo not English, he had to break the letter code before it made sense. At the time I was not aware of the type of coding behind the Enigma code used for scrambling vital military messages, but in retrospect I conclude it must have been a similar deliberate transposition of letters.
The only light was an oil lamp, the cooking was done in a single pan over the wood fire, the water was from a natural waterfall, there was no TV, yet there were six rooms and some incredibly good write ups in their book including one very poetic piece in English by a Belgian called Franke. Definitely somewhere to try next time. We were very tempted to stay a few nights until remembering the girl village teacher we had met on the bus was coming to Phillies to meet us on Sunday. Another 90 mins downhill we were back on the lake shore.
That evening we went to the most fantastic display of all male drumming, playing and graceful dancing it has been my privilege to see. It was performed by farmers from a local village who had been doing it for 20 years, since having been shown the way to make a little money by an Aussie.
A young American had lived with them for 2 years whilst researching for a Ph.D on globalisation of cultures, joined the initial dance and introduced each session.
There were martial arts dances in pairs including defense against knife attacks.
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| Martial arts dancing |
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| Bamboo Flute |
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| Music with drumming, gongs and banana leaf |
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| Dancing on broken glass bottles |
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| Two men Plate Dancing on broken glass |
A Dutch couple were recording the sound and another another fat rather large American man - who I suspect was was in some sort of media job. I think he was filming, though my record is not clear on his role. The group had only arrived at 5pm after a 36 hour bus journey from Jakarta. The enthusiasm in the audience, no more numerous than the performers, was infectious. All this for 4000r ($2USD) per head, incredible.
Sat 11 May
A superb but hard walk in the mountains. Minibus to Kota Baru then up a tarmac road rising through a continual stream of houses, continuing in a partially made up form to the viewpoint of Bukit Sukora, which unlike Puncak Lawang gave a view of the whole lake and the river entrance on the far side. The step bends were being concreted, the cement being brought up by mule trains. The road had been entirely hand built without machinery, being hacked out of the rock on the inner side and carefully laid stone on the outer side.
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| Road Building by Hand |
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| Road Builders take their lunch break |
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| Lake Maninjau |
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| Lawang washing lines |
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| Paddy Fields, Lake Maninjau |
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| Paddy Fields, Lake Maninjau |
Sunday 12 May
No record of meeting the Indonesian village school teacher who had intended to rejoin us all, so I guess she didn't turn up. We again lazed on the balcony this time watching the fishermen in their dugouts putting their green nets around the five areas they had pre-marked with banana leaves, and immediately hauling them back in with their catch before moving to the next marked site. Maybe the banana leaves provided the fish with shade and a hiding place or maybe they just marked the points which had been baited. There were also rods standing from the water to which were secured horizontal fishing rods, the lines being checked from time to time. Two red roofed buildings with nets and tanks were taken out to sea by a distance changed each day and controlled by ropes to the shore. Occasionally a canoe came around selling fish or collecting rubbish.
A final meal at Srikandi with the best pumpkin soup ever, it really always cooks unbelievably high quality food. Then by bus back to Bukittinggi and the Wisma who had a large party in from Exodus, the adventure tour outfit, they had been overland in Asia for seven weeks.
Also new arrivals were Louise and Phil Shambrook from Pilsley House, Bakewell, Derbyshire who are on a 60 month tandem cycle tour of the world. With one year still to go they had already cycled across America and parts of Australia and New Zealand. They do not fly but do allow travel by land on pre-arranged trains and buses and cross oceans on cargo boats. I still have the name card they gave me.Their current route includes cycling to Medan via Lake Toba then Thailand and India before retiring in New Zealand for which they already have immigrant visas. They reckon on cycling 50 miles per day but only 20 days in a month.
I had not previously realised that the power to weight ratio on a tandem was so much better than two on separate cycles, hence tandem racing produces high speeds. Reg Harris the Olympic hero of my cycling childhood raced both types of bike. Their tandem was specially built for the trip following an earlier experience of fishtailing on a 50km/hr descent. It had four brakes and they carried 22kg of luggage including a tent. They prefer to pedal seated uphill, however slowly, because the bike is so awkward to push uphill.
(Ten Years later in the Taklamaken desert of China we were to meet Lina from Latvia and Andreas from Germany on a trip of similar intent on individual cycles. He had just broken his second v cycle frame and was trying to retrieve the replacement from the Beijing customs. They finished their journey across China and then cycled across the middle of Australia and eventually settled in New Zealand where Andreas sadly died, though I never found out how.)
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