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.
 |
| 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.
 |
| 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.
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| 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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