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Published: March 16th 2007
The King of the Swingers
In a very important jungle.Slung into Singapore our now worldly and bearded boys are on the return journey, the Odyssey has commenced and with it a new chapter of tribulations, considerations and felicitations unfolds.
Our stay with the Lion People can only be described as fabulous. This was thanks to our Singapore connection; Sarah. Having been whisked off from the airport we soon found ourselves on the 17th floor of Regency Park. Condominium luxury lifestyle ensued over Gin and Tonics, marble floors and practically panoramic views of the city.
We spent our time getting ourselves together, making and executing decisions, preparing and gathering our thoughts. All the while breathing in Singapore’s atmosphere.
Hawker centers, Little India, Chinatown, Clarke Quay, Orchard Road and Raffles may sound familiar?
Throwing peanut shells at one another in the Long Bar at Raffle’s Hotel, whilst sipping on a Singapore Sling in our khaki vestments one did feel oh so beautifully colonial.
To be honest we hadn’t been expecting great things from Singapore and viewed it more as a hub for onward travel. But we were honestly and pleasantly surprised. An interesting place and, most importantly for the young traveler - stimulating.
From
Singapore we have split up. Jona has jetted to Bali and its environs whilst Alec, Duncan and I have headed to Sumatra…
Now, to date, we haven’t really been off the beaten track. To the extent that we just casually stepped onto the ferry at Singapore’s World Trade Centre with not a clue as to where we were going. A place called Batam our ticket said. O.k. we said, let’s go. No map, no Lonely Planet, no knowledge. The only thing we knew, thanks to Duncan, was that Sumatra’s capital is Medan.
As a result of our ignorance we spent our first five days in Indonesia completely lost. Within a few hours over the water we stepped from 1st world to 3rd, English into “No Speak English”, Armatige Shanks into a hole in the floor. And boy does Dunc miss his ceramic throne.
Discussing it at length we have come to the conclusion that one can do without toilet paper, even if it is a good safety. According to Dunc, a
Great safety. But when you just want to relax, take five, take twenty five if you like, read the paper, get that chapter done, finish your
Cuppa' Chai Luv?
At 4am somewhere lost in the South. Tasted like nectar. homework, take a break from the fam, the Asian toilet is just not cricket.
Anyway, where were we, ah yes, lost. So when confronted with scores of people jabbering away we just said “Medan, Medan” to all and sundry. Then finally we met someone who spoke some English. Alec asked her where the white peeps go and she gave us our golden ticket - a piece of paper saying ‘TOBA’. Where, after many lovely moments and mini adventures we found ourselves,
Lake Toba.
Staying in Parapat at first we finally spotted some white folk in the form of two German thoroughbreds who gave us a map and advice! Blessed information.
In Parapat we would recommend “Charlie’s Guesthouse” and local music legend Tongham - our host and friend for the duration of our stay. The people around Lake Toba are the smiley, friendly, musical and Christian Batak. They all play Guitar and all rather well. Which perhaps fits as it seems sometimes to be the only thing they do!
After our long journey we spent our first day pretty much asleep.
Bus journeys in Sumatra are quite the experience. Firstly, Indonesians are small as are, accordingly,
the seats. Then the buses are impressively overloaded. Then there’s the driving. I shall not go into detail as I am aware Mothers are reading. Pretty cool though. Finally, strangest of all there are the mystery stops. We’ve been on coaches leaving the ‘main’ road, down a side street, up an ally way, STOP. Driver gets out, disappears. Comes back ten minutes later, and off you go. No idea! Nobody seems to mind so we don’t. Maybe he left the Iron on, maybe he’s pushing drugs or a secret girlfriend. Many a scenario has been entertained. We’re talking about a full coach load of 52 people, plus everybody on the roof just twiddling thumbs.
Such entertainment is why one needs to sleep and recover. Duncan and I sleep the most, Alec has stopped growing me thinks.
Then to the monkey kingdom. Feeding monkeys and watching them frolic kept us busy for a long while. Good fun and it put us in the mood for yet more naked swimming in the local river and a drink at Tongham’s local. One thing on tap - I say tap, not really a tap more like a large bucket - Jungle Juice.
Iboih Beach
That's the Dive Boat in the background, Mama's on the right and our beach shack is just behind where the photo was taken. Absolutely disgusting. Sour, bitter, fizzy, warm, dry, maybe a little woody. We did our best to sip it with smiles as we joined in renditions of Hey Jude and what not.
The following day we awoke bright and rosy for a jungle trek to the bat cave. Through rainforest and flooded canyon we scrambled all the while on the look out. All our favorite characters from The Jungle Book are here; Tigers, (Two Horned Rhinos), Elephants, Panthers, Orangutans and Honey Bears. All in a country that has over 100 volcanoes, 15 of which are still active, is split in two by the equator and is roughly the size of France. Facts for the visitor.
But the Bat Cave was bloody awesome. Split in two by a waterfall and pool, it was illuminated by sharp sunlight piercing through cracks in the canopy and rock. We climbed up into the darkness, sliding around on Bat shit just messing about when
FLASH!!!! Alec tries a photo and the Bats go mental. We’re talking Batman Begins style spectacle. Unfortunately I can’t add we were as calm, composed or sexy as Christian Bale. But hey! The photos didn’t come out so you’ll never
know.
After a sincere farewell to Tongham we left Parapat for the Island of Samosir in the centre of the lake. It’s a big lake by the way, the largest freshwater one in south-east Asia apparently. Over 450 metres in depth. Like most things in Sumatra it’s Volcanic, an old crater. It’s magnificent. Steep green mountains cliffs, from which miles of waterfalls leap, hold in the tranquil waters. A few boats here and there and even a few Swiss fish farms!
Apparently Samosir was an old hippy retreat back in the day. There’s certainly many a colorful guest house on the Island but the place is deserted. There are now tourists and as a result all the cafes and restaurants are kind of half open. In a week we must have seen no more than a dozen white faces.
I don’t know what day it was but we played in a semi-professional football match! Tuk Tuk Vs India Medan. A little tricky with the pot-holed pitch and the heavy heat but what a setting. The ground was so hard that most of the time I felt like I was heedlessly chasing a bouncy ball. Dunc was
left back, me on the right and Alec center forward.
Alec, desperate as Dan to play, had squeezed himself into some Indonesian mini-boots, several sizes too small and as a result had to come off at half time as he could no longer walk. So I had to play center forward, my size 8 women feet holding strong. By the way I’m pretty bad at football if you didn’t know.
Alec had to tell me what to do from the sidelines, off side and all that kind off stuff. Shouting encouragement, tactics, criticism, Iron Mike you would have been proud.
The game finished 1-1. Good times. And as we zoomed off home on our motorbikes, reflecting from cove to cove in the dusk light I said to Alec, I said, “Alec, did your mama never tell you, big feet, big blisters, pain and discomfort when playing in Indonesian mini-boots semi-professional soccer in Sumatra?”
The following day Duncan was laid low… Writhing in bed with a fever he was unable to attend the wedding. I’m sorry what?! Yes, we went to a wedding. Which was wonderful. However it didn’t last long as we were quickly whisked away
to a mall. I say mall, not really a mall. Where, this came to light after several hours, we were being used as bait for females, attracting local girls to our local ‘friends’, ‘hosts’ I don’t know. We didn’t mind as such until relations started to chill and Alec and I wanted to leave. It was a sour finish to what should have been a lovely day. Funny how a drop of bad blood can cloud a day full of good memories.
Duncan had recovered by Thursday so we decided to see the Island from the vantage of rented motorbikes. Very groovy day, even more so towards the end. For we got lost again! We were right up in the highlands and we were having so much fun on our bikes that we didn't stop to think. Eventually, with darkness setting in, we started to think. My headlights didn't work and the roads are very treacherous. We thought we were heading in the right direction but the road was getting worse and worse until it became a bit of a joke. This was terrain even the Big Dog wouldn't handle. It was a big forest with no signs of
Jungle Oasis
Jungle Trek, Jungle Trek, in Bukit Lawang, see the monkey see the bird, see Orangutan. life, your mind starts making up scenarios. Shall we sleep rough and wait for the light? What about the Tigers? They may be rare but still! Maybe we could leave my bike and I'll go on the back of Alecs (headlight) but then we'll have to pay for the bike. Then Dunc fell of and broke his brake pedal. Alec meanwhile was absolutely loving it says he wants to get into Rally Cross when he gets home. Then we come to a house and ask for help. Nice man escorted us to a crossroads and told us which one to take. And everything was fine...
For our final night on Samosir we had a fish BBq, courtesy of a friend we had made, Charles. He took us to local markets and we bought everything fresh and raw.
As meals go, it was divine. Afterward we monged out on the balcony to soft guitar. The only songs the Batak seem to know are love songs. That and Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson. Funny.
24 long hours later we were tired from traveling and crawled off our minibus in Bukit Lawang in the far North. That minibus ride will
Aladdin and the Jungle
Dunacan, Orienteerer extrordinaire, 10 Tors captain, somehow ended up treking through the Jungles of Indonesia in Pyjamas and Jester Shoes. take the biscuit in channel four’s forthcoming 100 greatest crazy bus rides in Sumatra.
Bukit Lawang is a small Village on the edge of the jungle. A national park in fact. Recently however, the village was destroyed when the river burst its banks and killed 400 people. Of 30 guest houses only 4 remain. I had the feeling the people there are still grieving over lost loved ones. I find the call of the Ajan in the morning quite stirring.
Within a few days we were off yet again, this time on foot, up into the mountains on a three day jungle trek.
I didn’t expect to have such a strong reaction to seeing the Orangutan. You know when you hear a monkey or something in a tree it rustles. When you hear the Orangutan coming it’s quite different. The forest branches swoosh, slow and steadily, with deliberation. Whole trees bow to them as they proceed, as they glide with majesty through the air. Then they step down to our level, as if off a cloud, and stop. They look at you. My days, you look into the eyes of the Orangutan and you feel the shiver,
Mesjid Raya Baiturrahman - Banda Aceh
The Mosque lies right next to the river. When the Tsunami hit the Mosque was untouched. Standing strong amidst destruction. you feel the presence of the great truth.
The Malay word for Orangutan is “Man of the Forest”. I don’t think I’ll ever look at my hands in the same way ever again. Big highlight.
When we finally emerged from the forest it was on tires racing down the great river.
It's really important that tourists visit the National park and Bukit Lawang so as to keep money coming in. If not the future of the park is not certain, it will most likely get smaller and smaller as people need to eat and cultivate more and more land. So do go and visit as it will help the environment and the animals that live within it.
When we left Bukit Lawang we realized we weren’t ready to leave Sumatra. We had wanted to go to the west, to lake Maninjau on the recommendation of my sister. However, racked by an Earthquake earlier this month we’ve been told it’s not easy nor appropriate to go there as a tourist when people are rebuilding their lives.
So, against other advice we have received from a different kind of source, we’ve crossed the border into Aceh. And
Sam With A Tan
Posing with the homie outside Raffle's we would thoroughly recommend it!
Surprisingly Banda Aceh was a lot more developed than everywhere else we have been. The luxuries of an Internet Café and even a Bakery for Duncan were much appreciated. Skinny likes his baked goods. Still though, if you want any milk in Sumatra, I would bring a cow.
Then we woke up on a beach hut on the Island of Pulau Weh where we have been since I can remember.
Tucked away in the North is Ibouih beach, all 50 metres of it. There is a little community here, out of the eye of Sharia (don’t know how to spell that) Law. And, it’s got some of the best dive sites in the world!
There are several guys here who have married local girls and through them are perfect balance of western/Indonesian has arisen. Most people have been here for years. It is a special place that attracts special people. At first people were a little, we felt, odd towards us, being so young and not coming for any specific reason. “How did you get here?”, “No Idea” we would say, "guess we're just lucky".
You may be surprised to
hear that we have in fact been working and even studying rather a lot here. Perhaps not when I tell you we are now all certified Open Water Scuba Divers ;-) It's beautiful here.
Our first snorkel sets the scene. We jumped off the Dive boat and within 10 mins we had seen an Octopus and a Turtle. I had been attacked by a honeycomb Eel and Alec nearly stroked a Lionfish.
So Sumatra, we've endured the spin cycle and earned our rest amid picturesque volcanic lakes. We've sipped on the mornig mist and can safely say we've swam through a land before time.
Samwise
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kate wright
non-member comment
just love the blog!
Hi Guys Have been following your progress with so much interest .... but this one is the best!!! Am afraid to say I was one of those aged travellers who stayed on Samosir so so so many years ago - your vivid writing brought back so many happy memories I just had to make contact. Lots of love and keep right on travelling Kate xx