Friday, January 27, 2012

Tokyo on a shoestring

(coming soon)

For now here is a photo/video montage of our trip:

Planomania in Pulau Weh

GapangBeach
I came across an obscure word that resonated with me, planomania meaning the urge to roam. Which was what I needed to do my two weeks in Sumatra. Pulah Weh is the island off  Banda Ache, the very northern tip  of Sumutra and also the very western frontier of Indonesia. Pulah Weh has all the qualities of a first class, SE Asian island, a divers paradise, cheap, easy to get to, beach hut accomodation, nice beaches, even friendlier locals, but has not been spoiled or even overdeveloped like say Bali, Ko Phi Phi, or Boracay. I hope it stays like this!


Beginning our second week, we returned to Medan sick (now me with a sour belly which didnt last long) and took a taxi from Berastagi to the domestic airport where we took a delayed afternoon flights, via Sriwijaya Air to Banda Ache.
Z walking to our plane to Banda Ache

Banda Ache has earned a bad reputation lately, the horrific tsnumani Christmas 2004 which they are still recovering from and also the Christian Muslim political instability (actually Christian minorities and their churches are attacked.) About a week before our flight to Medan, Banda Acha had a major earthquake of 7.3 and issued another Tsunami warning. The people are still so traumatized by the 2004 Tsumanai, the people ran into the streets, no major damage or injuries  thankfully. I even met some travelers who were avoiding Banda Ache entirely. Glad to say I influenced at least one Italian gentleman to take his chances.

It was Chinese New Year weekend the Sat we flew to Banda Ache on Sriwijaya Air. My immediate impression of BA was wow I could live here. Everything was new, bustling, ordered, dissimilar from the thug like vibe of Medan. I suppose it was because of the tsunami’s aftermath, the pouring in of donor money, the presence of NGO’s and an expat community that drove up the prices and standard of living. Still, it has this energy and freshness to it, a hopeful vitality in spite of the trauma. We got a mini tour as I had my driver chauffeur around to all the banks so I could change some dollars, none were open.  (I still had some rupiah). There were new mosques, churches, new shiny banks. It was a holiday, banks closed, but street markets bursting, spilling over into traffic.

There are only 2 ferries, twice daily to Pulau Weh and we made the afternoon ferry. There is a “fast” ferry that takes an hour and a slower ferry that carries cars and takes only 30 minutes longer. We took the fast ferry and paid for no AC seats and were melting. Sitting outside meant convening with the smokers (everyone smokes in Indonesia). The plan I had on my itinerary was to stay at backpacker diver beach called Iboih, at Erick’s, 50,000 rupiah a night with Wi-Fi.

We arrived at Pulah Weh around 5 and took a motorcycle taxi. I ran into my Italian friend who said the whole island was booked. He just came from Iboih and he had to get an overpriced room in Sabang. He recommended his place in Sabang (Holiday Hotel), which I checked out and decided against. I came to the island for a beach abode, not an eyesore in a town. Anyway, I went back to the main road and got a becak who took me to Sumur Tiga. That beach just outside Sabang had 2 beautiful accommodations with first rate beach cabins built into the cliff with stone steps winding downward to the beach, with absurdly turquoise views of the warm, tropical waters. These places were slightly more expensive than Iboih or Gapang, but still cheap if you are thinking in US dollars or in my case NT. Both places were booked so I had to stay at the place above Casa Nemos, 200,000 rupiah a night with AC and TV, which Z was thankful for. Blasting the AC (not too cold as she was sick) helped hide her nocturnal coughing fits, unlike some of the places we stayed before. Strangely, when she watched cartoons it took her mind off her cough.

Waiting for our fast ferry at Balohan


Sumur Tiga beach
Casa Nemo's Sumur Tiga
Sumur Tiga

 Our first night at Sumur Tiga we ate at one of these bungalows and met a wonderful couple at the table behind us. The woman was American with a down to earth accent that makes one immediately feel comfortable. She was with her Kiwi consort, Sydney and Alistair. They were a gem. I couldn’t even finish our ‘expensive’ dinner as Z was passing out and coughing at the same time, I carried her on my back up the vertical stone steps to the road and one of the guys working at the bungalow, gave me a ride on his motorcycle up the street (a long walks with a 6 year old on my back) back to my room. 
Suffice to say Z and I didn’t sleep, well she seemed to think she did, if coughing with eyes closed is sleep. We ate breakfast and recovered on the beach in the shade of the palms trees. Still sick and losing weight, Z’s energy was for the first time this trip, up enough to play on the beach with me. We made a mermaid with the coral, I swam, I was feeling encouraged that she might actually be well enough to play, participate, enjoy this trip. This day was my birthday. Sydney and Alistair appeared on the beach later and kindly invited us to dinner at Nemos. I told them how grateful I was as today was my 37th birthday. They also told me how that first night, Erick’s on Iboih had a major party, everyone (backpacker) went. When I found out, I was so grateful I had missed going there and found the romantic cliff cabanas on the Sumur Tiga side. Once upon a midnight, that was my scene (ahh Dahab, Ko Phen Gan, Utilla what memories…) but with a sick kid and sleep deprived, soothing quiet, the resonance of the waves was the voice of Providence.

Z w/ a new friend, Sumur Tiga, my morning coffee view
 I rented a scooter the afternoon of my birthday for 50,000 from Casa Nemos, which was like FREEDOM for me.  A good price for 6 hours of the island wind blowing in my hair. The scooter was new and fast, and the roads of Pulah Weh were all recently paved and so the best I’ve seen in Sumatra. The jungle roads had teams of gray, combative monkeys and the views from the jungle mountain clearings, of the water and islands were phenomenal. I intended to go to Iboih and check it out, but never made it. We went to Gapang and it was bustling with families from Medan and Ache and it seemed more of a child friendly vibe than the assumed backpacker, party vibe of Iboih. I thought Z should play with kids and found a cheap bungalow on Gapang beach for the next 2 nights.
Here are some photos of  our stay at Gapang beach:  Bringeen Guesthouse, with the owner and her baby. The last one is also our view from our front deck.
 a vereaye
Wto pl

On my way back to Sabang I stopped for gas (huts full of empty plastic water bottles filled with gas) and bought a liter. I asked where the waterfall was and happened to be right at the intersection where the road led up to the waterfall. I took the road along the river, kids splashing and frolicking, mothers washing clothes, until the road became a walkway no wider than a foot, barely wide enough for me to control the scooter. The one side falling down to the river. It took some control and care and I had to stop and park the scooter and finish the rest on foot. The trail was much harder than I anticipated. The trail started ok, a normal jungle trail, slippery, wet, roots poking out ready to trip, and then we had to jump stones across the other side. Soon we were stuck. I thought about quitting and turning back because I could barely scramble up the slippery rocks with my flip-flops, let alone assist Z. Fortunately there was this helpful local. Z was not kind to him and kept on saying he was a bad guy, which he understood. I am teaching her to respect her gut instinct people, especially traveling, entrusting one’s safety to strangers in strange lands, but I knew he was a godsend. He def worked for her trust and he held her most of the time as we river traced, back and forth from one side of the river to the other, sometimes setting her  down to come and get me. At one point my flip flop broke and he tucked my pair of sandals under a rock and gave me his own. He continued on barefoot, holding Z, climbing the wet boulders like a pro and helping me, until finally we made it. The waterfalls,   gray mineral water, a gray pool. We rested; he went off for a well-deserved smoke. Then a bunch of local school girls appeared, climbing the wet boulders as if they were the tiniest stones. I was impressed with their skill. Z went into the water and our new friend/guide encouraged me to swim. I didn’t find the gray water appealing enough. When we were ready to leave, our new friend helped us just as sufficiently and selflessly as before.
Being an island, I ran into him two days later as he was selling his morning catch. I bought a good looking tuna for 20,000 rupiah and had one of the local places I went to cook it up for lunch (which we couldn’t finish and had to make fried rice with for dinner.)
Pria Laout River waterfall, Serung Keris Mountains, in the middle of the jungle
 
Z makes new friends


Local who helped me and Z

That night we were 10 minutes late for dinner and Sydney and Alistair were waiting with some Vodka and Tonic which we were drinking freely, exchanging extraordinary stories of close encounters, spirits and ghosts and having a great time. Z was playing with some local girls, so I was able to really enjoy adult conversation, with probably the most fascinating expats I have met in a long time. Sydney was teaching jewelry making at a University in Kuala Lumpor and her journey of starting from scratch in a male orientated, Muslim Academia made me just sit at her feet soaking in my own admiration of her independence and her carefree, self-sufficient, American boldness. And on top of it she was an artist, practicing and teaching her art. She spoke of her love for her students, how she found new amity with Alistair. Not much older than me, maybe 10 years (she seems so young), this was a woman I could be awed at. She seemed to think well of me and I admit it was nice to have someone, a stranger, appreciate my life journey with respect and marvel. It’s not like I get to hear that kind of approval or admiration from people I interact with on a daily basis. Alistair was a cool enough guy, had a college age kid, living in Melbourne and just well-traveled, knowledgeable, witty and generous. Then they both presented me with a gift, a T-shirt of Sabang, which was just the icing on the cake of an amazing day. I felt the waterfall experience meeting this kind local who just went out of his way for and Z to have this adventure, and Sydney and Alistair who went out of their way to have this wonderful meal and companionship and the gift I was just brimming with happiness and gratitude at such grace.

 
Z goes to the hospital for new meds

That’s what I love about travel, and travel time, the rallying of strangers, locating kindred spirits, compelling a connection; later to follow up on that bond of geography and moment, eventually. How many times have I done that? Been able to continue and deepen decade’s long friendships in other countries, homelands, new adventures. Sydney is one of those and her place in KL is always open for me and Z. I hope to visit her sometime this year. Travel is like condensed life, I meet one of these incredible people after a few days or weeks or months of hard, lonely, and voyaging.

Lunch! fresh Tuna, bought from the waterfall guy who is also a fisherman






We moved to Gapang Beach and all the families had left, their Chinese New Year holiday over. That was kind of a bummer because I wanted Z some kid social time, but on the upside I had the whole beach to myself. On the other side of the beach, as you first enter, there is Lumba Lumba, a more “upscale” backpacker bungalow (AC) that had diving and most if not all of the foreign travelers were getting their PADI certification. I didn’t even consider diving, Z was sick or recovering and I didn’t meet anyone I could leave her with, that I trusted long enough for a dive. Z liked me to push her on the tree swings, or look for tiny crabs which were everywhere. We rented a scooter once, but mostly just hung out, dividing time between meals, playing some Uno.

The morning we left, I had arranged a driver, an ojek to take me to the 7am ferry back to Ache, that driver never came and I was kind of panicking. No one on Dapang was awake at 6am, I saw at the end of the beach 2 tourist vans pulling out, full of their divers, my last hope to make the morning ferry. If I missed this ferry Id miss the plane to Medan and thus my plane to Singapore and Taipei. I ran as fast as I could, trying to get the attention of the van that didn’t see me. One of the Lumba Lumba owners, pitied me and took me and Z in his car (for 150,000 no less) and we made the ferry with 10 minutes to spare in a seat in front of Sydney and Alistair. They had a late day flight back to KL and were going to take a tour of Banda Ache, go see the Tsunami Museum.
Sydney and Aalistair on the ferry back to Banda Ache


We said our goodbyes at the ferry terminal as the taxi drivers overtook anyone with a foreign face. It wasn’t worth the haggle, I agreed to the 90,000 back to the airport a good 40 minute ride. Suddenly two foreign men asked if they could share my taxi to the airport, sure, why not a spit 30,000 each and they stopped at the bank so I could change my dollars (there is an exit tax leaving Indonesia that must be paid in rupiah, although the entering visa must be paid in US dollars.) Anyway, it was a long drive and I got to chat with these two guys, Alan a Dutch DM (Dive Master) and Cris, a Basque travel guide. These two must be the other most interesting expats on the island. Seriously, Cris has been everywhere, speaks German, Dutch, French, Catalan, Castilian and was speaking Indonesian with the taxi driver. Alan was making funny jokes the whole time and filling me in on what underwater delights he saw on his stint as a DM.
We arrived at the airport with time to spare. We spent several hours surfing on the wifi, and drinking cups of coffee, and of course chatting. Cris needed to get out of Indonesia because his visa expired and was busy trying to buy a ticket (or waiting for one of the airline offices to open). Alan was an oil man, made his money, and decided for a sabbatical as a DM. He sold his house and was just living the dream life of being more wet than dry. At this time he was flying back to Europe to connect with his college age daughter and return to Asia, being a DM in Eastern Borneo at a  3 star resort, then going back to Gapang. Very cool people. I hope to run into them again someday. With Alan it’s a total possibility, my dear friend Sandra (Guatemala, S Korea) is also in Eastern Borneo.
Came to find out I could of dived with Alan at Lumba Lumba and that the local women who worked at LL could of watched Z, but oh well I guess. Made me question if I have some weird mother martyrdom going on, and so the next time I am in diver’s paradise I will at least check out the possibility because my diving merriment has been too long at the back burner. 

Last Indnesian meal Medan
Banda Ache airport with Alan


LINKS and info:
  
Bus to Banda Aceh A bus trip from Medan to Aceh takes around 11 hours. Most buses travel overnight and cost 150,000Rp (500NT).


Flights to Banda AcehThe airport at Banda Aceh is called Sultan Iskandarmuda Airport. A taxi will cost 70,000Rp from the airport to the centre of Banda Aceh. Lion Air has direct flights from Banda Aceh to Medan and Jakarta. www.lionair.co.id Sriwijaya Air has direct flights from Banda Aceh to Medan and Jakarta. sriwijayaair-online.com

 

Northern Sumatra: Around Medan

Northern Sumatra: Around Medan

Z has been sick the whole trip and though her illness wanes and morphs, isn’t any better. Today (Wednesday) is probably her at her worst, now she has an earache. We spent our whole first day at TukTuk, Lake Toba at our room/deck at Carolina’s. I finished my book.
It started on the plane to Singapore, she puked. Actually she had a slight fever on the night bus from Tainan, she slept, but our ride was brief. I didn’t sleep a wink on that night bus. It left Tainan round 11pm and arrived at JongLi at 3am. We took a bus to Taoyuan airport and slept an hour on comfy leather sofas in the arrival waiting area. We were too early to check in. she slept a little on the plane to Singapore and puked. It was her 6th birthday and the plane was showing the film “Puss in Boots” which was she has been pining to see lately.

Butterfly Garden, Chani Airport, Singapore


II
We were too tired to indulge in Changi airport’s free city tours, so we checked out the butterfly garden at terminal 3 and then checked into the nearby transit hotel. Z was fascinated by the prehistoric, carnivorous flower the Monkey Cup. We were too wound up and tired so watched TV and showered for the first 3 hours and slept the next 3. She woke, her fever worse 100F, so with the last of my Singapore dollars bought some Children’s Panadol. She wasn’t drinking enough water and I had to beg, plead and threaten to her to even drink (theme for the trip thus far).

We were tired when we arrived in Medan. We had to pay for our visas, go through immigration, and pay blood money to the taxi driver to take us to the Blue Angel. I was kind of nervous about the whole airport taxi situation. I knew I would be ripped off, and I knew if I just walked down to the street, which was not even a 2 minute walk I could get a Becak (3 wheeled motorcycle rickshaw/tuktuk) for super cheap. Recently, like October 2011, an American traveler did just that and instigated a fight between the airport taxi drivers who surrounded him and his cheaper street taxi,  eventually he got knifed for it--not worth it to me.  The “Angel” was nothing to write home about, maybe indicative of Medan generally. Our room was 120,000 rupiah a night, a cold shower, AC (supposedly), noisy street traffic, crowing roosters  and spotty sleep (another theme of our trip.)

Our cottage, Indra's Bukit Lawang

 

The next morning we were up early. I was keen to make a move. The Angel arranged a ride to Bukit Lawang, the both of us for 100,000. I see in retrospect it was a good deal. I have been paying 100,000 each on the tourist bus from Berastagi to Parapet and back again. Also we took a becak from Blue Angel to Pinang Baris,  the bus station north of Medan a 40,000 trip+ 40,000 chicken bus to Bukit awang ( a savings of only 20,000, not worth a beer, if we took the new silver, tourist van, with AC from the Angel) It would have been worth to wait till 1030 and take it. Oh well Z was all smiles on the becak.
On all these long distance chicken bus rides Z totally withers. She sleeps and sweats. I see her vitality waning w/each hour she sweats and she stubbornly refuses to take in liquids but for angry sips.
Buckit Lawang
III.
The bus stopped outside of Bukit Lawang and we took a tuktuk to the main street, a muddy, pot holed path surrounded by wood shacks that sold water, trinkets, tours. We had to cross a makeshift “bridge” which just was some pieces of wood no wider than a foot, with some rope on one side to act as handrails. It was a little unnerving w/ Z, I had to hold her hand and her bag and it wasn’t wide enough for us to walk side by side I had to hold her hand while she walked in front of me, the roaring white water river swollen from recent rains, racing under us. We walked along the river past some guesthouses, white bearded monkeys playing in the trees, and stopped at the cute bungalows at Indra’s. It was cheap enough 50 rupiah a night, our room had a queen and a single and was poorly lit. That night, Saturday was party night. Indra’s was full of jungle boys (trek guides) and travelers, several guitars and shouting songs on the tops of their lungs well into the night (their cover of Floyd’s Wish You were Here, was immensely good and nostalgic). The river parties moved to some discotheque in a cave blaring mediocre electronic music as loud as possible, echoing its bass into the whole town, needled to say I got little sleep, a pattern to set the night tone this trip.
At Bukit Lawang I had hoped we could do some kind of jungle trek and have a close encounter with a group of wild orangutans. All the travelers there, and later on our trip had incredible stories. Z was just too weak and tired. She could hardly go across the bridge for some shopping and food. We tried to walk to the feeding area the next morning, but it wasn’t an easy walk for a kid on a healthy day so we turned back. I heard we didn’t miss anything as orangutans aren’t showing for the feeding lately and it isn’t an organized event like in Borneo. We turned around to the main path into the stalls and bought some much needed flipflops.
I was so looking forward to our orangutan trek, it was so cheap, a 2 day overnight camp trip, with the guides carrying all the camping equipment and cooking all the meals was only 60 Euros. I was confronted with my own entitled travelers ego, “I came here for my damn orangutan experience and I aint leaving until I get it.” But my mothering instinct is fortunately much stronger and I couldn’t risk Z’s fever getting worse in the jungle, far away from any medical clinic. She had this on and off fever for 3 days. The only thing she would eat was papaya, loads of it and the next night some soup and pizza.

III.


Jeep to Tangkahan
Since we weren’t going to do any trekking I thought we might as well head to Tangkahan and the elephant treks. I already knew the price before hand and scheduled an early next day 4x4 jeep to the out of the way town of Tangkahan. It was a supposed 2 hour journey, but was longer. I wish I could of taken photos of the road, potholes were the size of the road, we got stuck once. My driver was excellent, he was 25 years old, spoke no English and looked like he was 16. Z just collapsed in the backseat and slept. I was amazed that there were homes, little villages (5 houses together) sprinkled here and there along this road, cattle chewing cud in between jungle trees replaced by palm. There were a few churches, it was Sunday morning and I had the driver stop at one and joined the service. Of course it was in Indonesian and no one spoke English, it was still amazing. The men and women sat apart and the women covered their laps with a thick weaved cloth. Z and I were sweating so bad that’s the only reason we left early.



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Church in the jungle
  Just when I thought the road couldn’t get any worse it did and it ended at Tangkahan, the kampong (village) was 7 km of nearly impassable road to the river where the elephants reside. We had to pay a small fee for entering the park and crossed the river on a wood raft, climbed the stairs up and checked in at Mega Inn. Our cottage was amazing, little details of carved wood a large bed, our bathroom was mostly outdoors with a small garden, so I had the luscious feeling of bathing outside in the jungle (it was enclosed and private). After checking in and lunch we with our driver and his friend (who spoke English) walked down to the river for a swim. Women in Sumatra like all good Muslim women swim fully clothed. I had these balloon pants that were the worst for swimming, it was unnerving as the river was swift. I somehow made it to the other side where a small hot springs was in a clef of a rock. It could fit 4 people, there were some laughing teenage boys there (laughing at me trying to speak English w/ them and laughing when one of them tried to speak English back). I was scared to swim back, the river was fast, but made it ok. Z and I hung around to watch the monkeys jumping back and forth from a tree. It was a quiet night. I was surprised when they told us the elephants wouldn’t be available the next day Monday, so that would mean us staying a few extra nights there (lovely place but nothing else to do). On top of that they raised the price for the elephants trek. Before a 3 hour trek was 360,000 IDR, which I had budgeted for. Now they wanted 650,000 for one hour, completely ridiculous.


Our outdoor bathroom

Our cottage, Mega Inn
Basically Tangkahan is one big tourist trap. Supposedly the bus to Medan leaves 2x a day, once at 7am and the other at 2. I had to make a bit of a fuss for them get me to take me back across the river, so I could make a bus that wound up not existing. Well if we were going to make it to Berastagi our next location we must get the am bus. But because of the road conditions there was no bus. We had no choice but to pay 50,000 IDR to a guy on an Ojek (dirt bik taxi) to carry me, Z and our 2 bags  to the bridge outside of the kampong  7 km away.

Our driver carrying Z who was too sick to walk down to the river

Teens at the hot springs

Z, Tommy and our driver
 It was a hard road. I had one bag on my left shoulder and was because of the way I was sitting on the back (Z was between me and the driver) doing one giant abs crunch, my core was getting some much needed exercise. Just when I couldn’t take it any longer, we crossed the bridge where the make shift bus station was, a bus left 10 minutes later. He dropped us off outside Medan and we caught a blue local opelet to Berastagi.

IV.
On the way to Berastagi it became cooler as we headed up the highlands. The guy I paid was asking me for more, he knew I was going to Berastagi and when we got there didn’t tell me this was my stop (how was I to know?) So when I was getting a bad feeling that we passed it I told him “ Berastagi?!” and he wouldn’t tell the driver to stop so I could get a ride back the other way. I was getting mad and the lady next to me told him (for some reason I understood her Indonesian perfectly) that he has to tell the driver to stop so I can catch a ride back to Berastagi, so everyone was waiting for him to do something and he wasn’t , a world class simpleton, so I started yelling at the driver to stop and then those around me chimed in. I got my bags off the roof and crossed the dangerous road to the other side. We caught a local yellow Bemo (minivan) that got a flat tire after 10 seconds and waited 10 more seconds for another local minivan to drop us off right at our guesthouse, the Wistma Sibayak Guesthouse, where I got eaten alive by bedbugs (Z was spared we had separate blankets).  It happens.


Hot Springs at the foot of Sabayak











Z was too sick to make plans to hike the volcano. We checked in, I did some laundry and we walked to the Gundaling hill to catch a view of the sunset. It was an easy walk but Z was tired and complaining. We walked up the road in between terraces farms, lush and verdant from the rich volcanic soil. We caught a local minivan up the top of Gundaling Hill, admired the green valley surrounding the nearby volcanoes and walked to a small market. The top of that hill has some restaurants where locals go and some tourist trinket shackss to hike the volcano. We checked in, I did some laundry and we walked to the Gundaling hill to catch a view of the sunset. It was an easy walk but Z was tired and complaining. We walked up the road in between terraces farms, lush and verdant from the rich volcanic soil. We caught a local minivan up the top of Gundaling Hill, admired the green valley surrounding the nearby volcanoes and walked to a small market. The top of that hill has some restaurants where locals go and some tourist trinket shacks. I bought Z and I a sweater (it was surprisingly cool) and we took a horse and buggy ride (Doken), not exactly an elephant, but Z was happy. She was playing with a crazy little goat. This goat kept on rearing up, trying to head butt her and making us all laugh.


The next day we were catching an afternoon tourist van to Parapat, Lake Toba. So for  the morning we went to the local hot springs at the base of the volcano Sibayak. The spring’s facility had 6 or more pools of different temperatures. The only patron there was a German American (German passport, 30 + years in Florida) who was there. He married a local and retired in Berastagi. They had money, a house on Langkawi, a house here or there. He made me feel guilty for how much I paid my driver, “and you work for your money?” I tried to explain it wasn’t worth the hassle sometimes, saving 10,000 rupia (1 dollar). Anyway, he like the Italien I met at my guesthouse, both advised me to stay at Carolina’s when I went to Lake Toba, so that’s just what I did.

First views of Toba
Ferry from Parapat, Z's pink
V.

The ride to Parapet was shared by 2 Dutch girls, a couple (a German man w/ a Dutch woman), me and Z, and an American from PA living on Shanghai. The Dutch were the predominant traveler in Sumatra, naturally as it was until recently a Dutch colony. I paid 200,000 for the both of us in an AC, clean minivan, it took about 4 hours, most of the road was bad, but not as nuts as the road in and out of Tangkahan. From Parapat we had an hour wait for the last ferry to Tuktuk , our backpacker town on the island.

Z recovering on our deck, Carolina's
Lake Toba is the result of an exploding super-volcano, creating an island (sorta) the size of Singapore in the middle. It is the largest lake in SE Asia and reminded me of the vastness of Lake Nicaragua and the beauty of Lago Atitlan in Guatemala. We had the ferry drop us off right at Carolinas and I paid 130 rupia for the deluxe room with hot water showers ( I figured Z couldn’t handle the cold water w/ her cold). It was amazing. The staff was like a big family bent on making my stay absolutely carefree. The first day I did nothing but stay at my room my front porch overlooking the lake as Z coughed herself in between sleeps.


 The next day we rented the scooter for half a day and rode around admiring the Batak people’s monoliths, traditional homes and last king’s grave. We stayed at Carolina’s for 4 days, 3 nights and left on a tourist bus back to the Wisma Sabayak, Berastagi. Z coughed the whole time and after we checked in, I took her to the local recommended Dr.


Batak council circle seats, 500 year old  traditional Batak homes
The clinic was basic, the floor was dirty. I approached , carrying Z on my back and there were several people waiting at the door. I didn’t know one of them was the Dr, he looked like a sick patient. He was old, bald and had a tube coming out of his nose, wrapped around his head, disappearing somewhere looking like something out of Star Trek. He listened to her lungs and said she had an upper respitory infection and if she had this before, which she did. He gave me some meds, which turned out not to be so effective. To see him plus the meds, cost about 30  bucks US, which quite a bit in rupiah but cheap for the US.  At the Wisma Sibayak we stayed at the cheap rooms this time, the 50 rupiah a night room and Z hacked all night. I paid the 10,000 for a hot water shower which was worth it.
Early the next day we left on a 30,000 taxi to Medan airport to catch our flight to Banda Ache and ferry to Pulau Weh. We left Berastagi at 7am and didn’t make it to Pulah Weh until til 6pm. My belly was a mess and I had our taxi driver stop at an Apotik in Medan for some meds. We killed some time in an airport café with wifi and watched some Simpsons and boarded our delayed Sirwajaya flight. Here we are 10 minutes before our flight time at our gate and there is no Sirwajaya staff. I started to panic that they had bussed the passangers already, but no. Right at the time of our delayed, new flight time, we walked to our plane, Z under the shade of her camisole and boarded.  I had to pay 35,000 rupiah each, as an extra tax on our tickets for some barcode on our tickets. It was 75,000 each when we left the country a week later.

LINKS
http://www.carolina-cottages.com/lake-toba/home/6449

Blue Angel Guesthouse Pondok Wisata Angel, Jl S.M.Raja No 70, Medan North Sumatra
Indonesia             Ph:   (061) 732 0702        Fax: (061) 732 6050

Mega Inn, 8 rooms w. bath: Rp. 75-100.000. Discounts for longer stays. Ph: 081 370 211 009, 081 370 454 572. megadepari@yahoo.com www.experiencesumatra.com

http://indonesia-guidebook.blogspot.com/2011/02/destination-sumatra-north-sumatra.html