Indonesia: Saving the best for last - Sumatra


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Asia » Indonesia » Sumatra
May 15th 2011
Published: October 10th 2011
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(N) A little while ago, we packed our bags and headed to Heathrow to board a flight to Nairobi, full of excitement about our planned epic journey around the globe. Our bank accounts were healthy, our batteries charged, and our minds incredulous of the prospect of having 15 months of freedom and adventures. We thought it would never end. But somehow – it crept up suddenly – we are now in the very last destination of our world trip. How did this happen? Nobody knows. But here we are.

Perhaps in anticipation of not wanting to end our trip, we applied for a two month Indonesian visa in Kuala Lumpur. Indonesia is huge and we didn’t want to rush things but soak up and savour every last bit of travel freedom. We flew from KL to Banda Aceh in North Sumatra and boarded a boat to Pulau Weh, a tropical island that has lately been gaining fame in dive circles for pristine coral reefs, impressive marine life and great visibility – without the crowds. We headed to Sabang, an average beach home to a highly recommended dive resort, Lumba Lumba. Currents are known to be vicious in this area, and we wanted to go with somebody who knows what they are doing. We stayed on site, in a very fancy (not so) budget room at the back, along with a couple of great fellow divers we hung out with when we weren’t under water. One of them was Dylan, an Aussie former journalist whose claim to fame was having talked himself into the position of government anti-terrorism and piracy advisor whilst consuming beer bongs at a party in Canberra. Naturally, Dylan had our immediate and highest respect.

We wasted our days and evenings with light banter, counting the minutes to our next dive – it was that good. The first time we went down, we had 35 metres visibility; the clarity and colours actually startled me and I thought to myself: “Wow, what a great mask!” Everything was beautiful; lush jungle-covered hills and islets above water, and stunning rock formations, walls and pinnacles below. On two of our dives, we encountered extremely strong currents, alternating drifting above the magnificant coral gardens with serious “rock climbing” to prevent getting swept away into the blue. It was challenging but a great experience, reminding us that the ocean is a playground to be respected. We also dived the house reef by ourselves, with Matt as navigator, which was interesting, as the compass apparently was “upside down”. He he.

After four days or marine bliss, we crossed back over to the mainland, to the little village of Lhok Nga about 20 km out of Banda Aceh, the capital of the semi-autonomous, conservative Muslim province Aceh. “Eddie’s Homestay” was going to be our abode for the next few days; and after only minutes, it felt like home. The place is run by Eddie and Dani, two Acehnese brothers who are some of the loveliest and most welcoming people you will ever meet. We shared the house with their friendly, devout Muslim father and three surfers, the latter being the only foreigners we encountered in Aceh the entire time we were there. Tourists don’t come to Aceh, put off by the fairly recent civil war in the province, the introduction of sharia law, strict behavioural codes (alcohol is illegal; dress codes apply), and not least, its near total destruction by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. In the villages of Lhok Nga and neighbouring Lampuuk, four out of five people were killed by the wave, which flattened everything in its way for 3 – 5 kilometres. In Banda Aceh itself you can see two massive ships that were swept inland by the wave; one of them came to rest on somebody’s roof and remains there until today. Tsunami flight path signs dot the landscape, and there is a larger than average number of roadside cemeteries. Besides these grim reminders, you wouldn’t know that this was the scene of so much destruction - reconstruction has been swift and efficient. However, when you talk to people, this changes: Everybody has a story to tell. We spoke to men who lost their entire families and heard heartbreaking tales about the shocking number of orphans the tsunami created. The brother of a local we became friendly with, tried to outrun the wave, and escaped with his life – but nothing else.

Despite the utter tragedies and trauma that they lived through in recent years, people in Aceh are amazingly friendly and warm. You can tell they are not used to tourists; wandering through conservative Banda Aceh, we drew more than one stare - but they were friendly and curious rather than hostile. If you listen to the guidebooks, Aceh is no place to be; the South East Asia Rough Guide omits the province entirely for safety reasons, the Lonely Planet reckons it’s a destination for “intrepid souls” only. Well, thank you Rough Guide and LP, because your write ups meant we had a stunning and fascinating piece of paradise all to ourselves!

We discovered the beauty of the place on day two, when we rented a motorbike, rode around the village and discovered the beautiful, and mid-week utterly deserted Lampuuk beach. A sweeping white sand bay, cows trodded along in the distance; the only other sign of life was Joel’s Bungalows, a surfer’s hangout and restaurant; a gem of a place. We promptly changed our flight to Medan for a couple of days later – after all, it’s difficult to find a beautiful and tourist-free spot – so if you do, you stay. For the next few days, Matt went surfing with the boys, I took dips in the sea (fully clothed) and made friends/practised English with inquisitive local youths. We explored the surrounding countryside on the motorbike and found more deserted beaches, more beautiful scenery, and more smiling people. Every evening, we’d head to Lampuuk to watch a spectacular sunset - complete with a bat exodus from a cave that kicked Borneo’s butt – and sipped overpriced, sold-under-the-table beers at Joel’s with new friends.

It was bliss. Still, our Indonesian itinerary was ambitious – we planned to visit Sumatra, Java, Bali, Lombok and Flores in two months – and after four days, it was time to move on. After emotional goodbyes with Eddie and Dani and promises to see each other again, we headed to the airport and caught a flight to Medan, Sumatra’s main city. From there, we would make our way to Bukit Lawang, a jungle village which offers great chances to see orang utans in the wild. You would think such an attraction would be fairly comfortably accessible, but... well, think again. The roads were atrocious, making even a private transfer just about bearable. Of course for us, it was back to public transport. We crammed into a battered Chinese minibus with way too many people, our backpacks in the bulging trunk, held closed only with a piece of string. Everybody smoked in the car. The driver drove like a maniac. We felt like we belonged– it was just like being back in Africa! Some 80 kilometres and three hours later, we arrived, bums sore but happy – it takes more than a crazy minibus journey to faze us these days! Upon arrival, we were met by Eddie, a friend of an NGO worker we’d befriended in Aceh, and our jungle guide for the next two days. Eddie was lovely and a complete star, scouting the whole village for the best and cheapest accommodation with us, and carrying my backpack to boot. We found a great room for eight bucks, in the best location in the whole village: at the river bend, in the middle of lush jungle, and opposite the former orang utan sanctory, where some of the animals still come to feed. The view was spectacular; every day, we saw monitor lizards, different species of monkeys and even orang utans from our balcony! It was unreal, and one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The people were great, too, and we immediately made friends. On day one, I had already been given the recipe for two yummy Indonesian dishes and received a lesson in Bahasa. First word: orang utan = people of the jungle. Isn’t that cute?

I loved sitting on our balcony, or in our restaurant, drinking strong, Indonesian coffee while staring at the beautiful jungle canopy and wildlife. So much that Matt had to drag me away kicking and screaming when it was time for our two-day jungle trek. “I can see everything from our balcony! Why do I have to move?” Of course Matt was stronger than me, so early in the morning, we headed into the bush, flanked by our guide Eddie, and a bodyguard. Yep, a bodyguard. No joke. You need a bodyguard to keep you safe from Mina, a violent orang utan female that regularly attacks trekkers and guides. The story goes that Mina used to be a friendly and people-loving animal, but changed when a “guide beat her up”. Ever since, she’s been acting aggressively towards humans. Eddie had been bitten once before, and is since terrified of her; our bodyguard was bitten “four or five times”. This didn’t stop him from fulfilling his duty though – and thank goodness, because we had a rather close call with Mina. Entirely unprovoked (we weren’t even close) she climbed down from her tree and started chasing us. I wasn’t aware of this at the time as I was just running for my life as I was told to, but I later found out that she was a few metres behind me and had only diverted her course when our bodyguard distracted her with carrots and bananas and led her into a different direction. My heart was beating fast, I tell you... We had a second close encounter with a black gibbon – a beautiful, large male that we observed happily for some time, until Matt put his bag on the ground to take out his camera. He had been warned against doing this but chose to ignore it. So the gibbon jumped off his branch and tried to grab the bag; Eddie managed to salvage it, and, again, ordered us to run, while the ape chased us through the jungle. It really was wild out there!

After a few hours of hiking, we arrived at our camping spot for the night, a square of bare earth next to a jungle stream where our bodyguard had set up a makeshift shelter for the four of us and was now prepraring a tasty meal with minimal equipment (I don’t know what that says about fancy kitchenware, because in all three continents we visited, the meals that were prepared for us in the jungle or the bush were some of the best we had) Lucky, too, as Matt tried his hand at fishing and didn’t get as much as a nibble. The evening was lovely and enlightening; we learnt some more Bahasa and rather interesting facts about our guides (nothing I can replicate here) - a great time was had by all. That is until we settled in for bed and suddenly the heavens opened, unleashing rain like you’ve never seen before and which turned our neighbouring stream into a raging river. After not too long, it had doubled in size and was rising by the minute. I became rather worried – being at the bottom of a hill in a jungle, there was a very real chance of a flash flood of the kind that not so long ago killed scores of people in Bukit Lawang and destroyed large parts of the village. Eddie tried to reassure me that it was going to be okay but failed as I saw him checking the water levels every two minutes himself. Luckily, the rain stopped at some point, and while the water level continued to rise for quite some time (water gushing down from the top of the mountain), it reached its highest about five inches below our shelter and then began to recede. Visibly relieved, Eddie got up, distributed some more salt around our shelter (it keeps the cobras away) and everyone went to sleep.

The next day started with a real struggle – all the rain meant we couldn’t hike through the stream as planned. Instead, we opted to hike straight up the hill through thick jungle. It was hard. Steep, muddy and slippery, we had to pull ourselves up by holding onto wet bushes, duck under fallen trees and frequently hold onto each other to stop us from losing our footing. It required so much concentration that - until we got to the top some two hours later - I didn’t even notice the leeches... The leeches loved me and attacked me every two minutes. Everytime I saw one, I screached “Leeeeeeeeech!” and Eddie would come and remove them dutifully from my legs. My hero. All in all, I was glad when the hike was over. I was shattered, tired and dirty, but of course it had been worth it once again. “Proper bundu bashing!!”, Matt declared with an excited, sweaty grin upon our return.

I loved loved loved Bukit Lawang and could have easily stayed another five days. Which, retrospectively, we should have done as our next destination - Lake Toba – didn’t exude much love from us. Lake Toba is the world’s largest volcanic lake and is inhabited by the Christian Batak people, who are famed for their love of music. Our guidebook informed us Lake Toba was THE hippie hang out in the Seventies and promised three guitar-playing men on every corner. Naturally, I couldn’t wait to get there, but when, after an eight hour drive, we caught our first glimpse of the lake, all I could think was “looks like Germany - but not as pretty”.

Things did not get much better after that. One night on Samosir Island we bore witness to an impromptu jam session by five local guys who could all sing like rockstars, play the guitar, the bass and the drums – which was amazing – but other than that, there was a distinct lack of music, hippies and atmosphere. It was obvious that it once had been a happening destination, as the place was full of rather fancy, aged hotels. But it was deserted and felt like a ghost town. One evening we went to find a bite to eat and walked past one empty restaurant next the other, bored staff beckoning us to come in and put some money in the till for the first time in two years. Every single business in the village, including old ladies offering to launder your clothes, has resorted to the sale of magic mushrooms in a desperate attempt to generate some income and restore the place to its former hippie glory. It was depressing.

The only saving grace was our accommodation – and our company: Sasha and Jay who we’d met in Lhok Nga were there, too. We paid four dollars for a simple but charming house with a balcony right by the lake. The boys at “Reggae” guesthouse have built a floating platform and made a swing - a rope with a tyre tied to the branch of a big tree – and we spent hours swinging and throwing ourselves into the water. If it hadn’t been for the swing, I don’t know what we would have done with ourselves. We left three days later, and were glad to. While everybody else said they loved the place (can’t think why...), we felt like Lake Toba has had its day of glory. I predict a resurgence in popularity when the mainstream backpackers find it, but it’s never again going to be what it used to be – rather, it will turn into another stop on the party pancake trail. At least the old ladies will cash in.



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11th October 2011

great times
wow guys it sounds like you have had the best times these past few months, I am going to miss your travel updates! hows things in oz?

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