Janet mentions in the About page that she prefers to have a plan, and I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants. Well, it's just me now, and I think I've forgotten what plan means. I am planning to fly out of Jakarta next week before my visa expires, planning to get there by bus, and planning to stop at several towns along the way to see the southern half of Sumatra where no one can speak English and there is no tourist infrastructure. That's where the plan ends.
On Sunday I wanted to leave Bukittinggi and head south, but I didn't decide where to go until the afternoon. I looked at a map and decided that the capital "city" of Bengkulu, Sumatra's most isolated province, would be my destination. Unfortunately the once-daily bus from Bukit to Bengkulu had already departed. So I decided to hop on a bus and head two hours south to the provincial capital, Padang, in hopes that there would be a bus leaving for Bengkulu. There wasn't.
The driver dropped me off somewhere in Padang, and I hopped on the first minibus that said it was heading to the terminal (the Indonesian word for bus station). When I got there, I realized that it was the local bus terminal and there were only minibuses there. By now it was already dark, so I started asking other minibus drivers if they were heading to the "terminal to Bengkulu." Apparently there is no long-distance bus terminal in Padang, and each bus leaves from its company's office. One driver was really nice, and he stopped off at several of the agents and inquired about a bus to Bengkulu for me, all while his bus was full of passengers. Eventually it became apparent that there were no buses to Bengkulu that leave that late. It's so far away that the night buses leave earlier in the day. At this point a college student sitting near me who couldn't speak much English said that I could come stay with him, so of course I accepted!
The student, Rahmat, lives with four of his classmates. They were all really nice, and one of them spoke better English than I speak Indonesian, but most of the talking was in Indonesian. First we got some dinner and brought it back to the house. After eating, they made some coffee and the four of us played dominoes, ate Durian, and drank coffee. The teams were Rahmat and I verses two of the other guys. I feel bad for Rahmat, because they are all clearly very good and our team lost every time. I guess my dominoes skills are lacking. There was a punishment for losing - the winning team smears coffee grinds on the losing team's face.
The losing team.
The boys.
They also taught me that Durian and coffee go well together. You drop a chunk of Durian in your coffee, and it gives the coffee a nice flavor. When you finish you coffee, the Durian is coffee-flavored. Yum.
I am one of the few Durian-eating bule out there.
Later that night we watched a martial arts movie that was made in Bukittinggi. The movie was surprisingly good. The plot resembled a Bruce Lee movie, and I understood everything that was happening even though I only understood 3% of the dialog (no subtitles). I guess dialog isn't too important in that type of movie.
The next morning, after they insisted on treating me to a Padang breakfast favorite, we headed to the beach. At the beach we saw local men "fishing." Groups of about 10 men were pulling on a rope that went endlessly into the sea. I imagine at the end of the rope is a net full of fish. I was encouraged to join in, so I spent a couple of minutes as an Indonesian fisherman.
After that we went to a bus agent, and I jumped on a bus to Bengkulu that left at 10 AM. It was over an hour before we left Padang because the bus just drove around picking up more passengers. These buses refuse to go until they're almost full. Finally, at 6 AM the next morning, I arrived in Bengkulu! The hotel I'm staying at is supposed to be very popular with backpackers. I asked one guy how many bule (white people) come through per month, and he said two or three at most.
I'm not a good enough writer to describe to you how insane this trek was, but I'll try.
Near the city of Bukittinggi lies Mount Merapi, the most active volcano in Sumatra (there are 35 active volcanoes in Sumatra). Ben, a new Dutch friend I met at the hotel, and I decided to hire a guide and trek up the volcano at night to catch sunrise from the top. We met a guide who's grandfather was a shaman, lives at the foot of the volcano, and promised not only to take us down a different way than most groups go but also to teach us about the wildlife, healing plants, and survival in the wilderness. He told us that we didn't need to bring anything, because everything would be taken care of in terms of food, water, flashlights, etc.
Our guide came to pick us up at 10:00 that night. He had hired a van and driver to get us there. After we paid him and were already in the van, a 20 year old kid hopped in. Our guide told us that he had a bad knee and couldn't take us, hoped we didn't mind, and disappeared. So off we went with our new guide..
Ben and I had the bright idea of checking out of our hotel before the trek. Why should we each pay for a room when we won't be sleeping that night? We thought that we could just leave our stuff in the guide's car. That didn't work out quite as planned, because our guide didn't have a car. So we ended up having to hike up the trail a little ways and hide our stuff in the woods. Keep in mind that this was at night. We made some markers in the trail so that we could (hopefully) find our stuff the next day.
Shorty after we started, the torrential rain began. I'm not talking about just any rain. This is Asian monsoon rain. At first, you get annoyed when any part of you that was previously dry gets wet. Eventually, when you're so drenched that its impossible to be more wet, you stop caring. It was at this point that I started caring more about not getting injured. You see, the trail was very steep. Did I say trail? I meant the river/waterfall was very steep. There were many points where hands were needed to climb further, all while a raging river came down at us. I was climbing with one hand, because the other hand was carrying my flashlight tucked into the sleeve of my rain jacket. I didn't want to know what would happen if the flashlight died.
Safety was only my main concern for a short period of time. The rain was cold, and as we got higher, the air was also cold. The only way to keep warm was to walk faster, so I tried to push the group to go as fast as possible and rest as little as possible. This kept me warm for about four hours until we were about an hour from the top, when our guide informed us that we were more than an hour ahead of schedule. By now the rain had stopped, but we were completely soaked and the temperature at this elevation was very cold. We had to camp out there for an hour because it would be much too cold and windy to wait at the summit. Luckily our guide had some flammable powder (gunpowder?) and dry wood in his bag, so we lit a fire and avoided hypothermia. Ben was a little nervous after our guide admitted that this was his first time doing this trek in the rain. The guide took his shirt off to warm himself by the fire, and was shivering uncontrollably. By the time an hour had passed, I was cold to the bone. I tried doing push-ups and jumping jacks to stay warm. I sat by the fire and roasted my socks like marshmallows, accidentally setting one on fire.
Finally we continued our ascent, this time at an even faster pace. When we made it to the top, our guide lit another fire and boiled some water so that we could have instant coffee. It was possibly some of the best coffee I'd ever had. It was cold and windy at the top, I was still freezing, and we were almost out of wood and gunpower, so I went on a mission to collect all of the trash I could to burn. Unfortunately, there was very little trash around (possibly the only time you will hear me say that). The wind made life hell for an hour, but proved to be beneficial in the end. We dried up pretty quickly, and finally felt warm again hiking around the craters. There are no clear pictures of sunrise because Ben's hands were still trembling from the cold.
Still wet and freezing. When not smiling for the camera, I looked very disgruntled.
The biggest of the craters. This volcano was what I imagined volcanoes should look like: a deep, smoking, perfectly round crater.
Above the clouds.
To our amazement, we were able to locate our stuff the next day and it was still dry! Piles and piles of banana leaves do wonders for keeping the rain out. We finally reached the bottom before 1:00 PM the next day. After 13 hours, 11 of which were spent walking up/down a mountain at a fast pace, we were finally done!
I forgot to mention a few things. Our guide did the trek in cheap plastic flip-flops. He also only had two flashlights for three people, both of which ran out of batteries. Luckily we brought our own flashlights. He brought a change of clothes for himself, which he changed into when we camped out for an hour. It would have been nice if they had told us to bring a change of clothes.. Live and learn.
On the way down we took some pictures of the trail with Ben's camera:
This tree had fallen and was blocking the path. It was more difficult at night in torrential rain.
Even with legs so tired they were trembling, we couldn't resist climbing this awesome tree that was covered in vines.If you zoom in, you can see me at the top.
some holidays are good no matter where you are and are definitely hard to give up - specifically the all food, all day holiday - thanksgiving. So even though i don't think HK has had any historical pilgrim & indian sit down dinners...I couldn't resist and hosted our first HK thanksgiving dinner!
Starting on Friday, as our oven is about the size of a microwave we began prepping dinner for some of my nearest and dearest.
the adult table the kids table
partners in crime
Following some pretty great recipes - thank yous go out to Catherine! (cornbread was a hit - who doesn't love butter, sour cream and jiffy??) Paula (Deen) and Martha (Stewart) or as my dear mother said "just like Margaret Stewart" - we managed to cook a feast for 18!
Ari, this is what you missed (Don't worry, we'll do a repeat at Xmas)
FOOD
Star of the show - Tryptophan
clockwise from the fork - cornbread, mashed potatoes, turkey, ham, stuffing, green bean casserole with homemade funions, caesar salad and grilled vegetables
last but not least dessert - pumpkin pie with whipped cream and a pound cake
I met Jarno the Dutch in Berastagi. Since we were both heading to Lake Toba, we went together. Jarno had previously met an Englishman named Keith in Penang, and Keith had invited him to stay with his family on Samosir Island. Keith, his Batak wife Norma, and their two young boys are currently living on Samosir in Lake Toba on a sabbatical from British life for a year. Their family is awesome and they basically adopted me and fed me every night like a starving orphan. Norma cooked food that I didn't know I was so desperately craving until I saw it - pizza, a proper British wild pig roast, fish and chips with fresh tuna, and curry chicken. And she's an amazing cook.
Jarno didn't have the best week. First, he got food poisoning and locked himself in his room for two days. Literally the day after he recovered from that he got in a motorcycle accident that by all accounts, including his own, was his own fault. He was on the wrong side of the road and had a head-on collision with another bike. He wasn't hurt too badly. His foot is very swollen and he has a possible fractured wrist. This is one of those situations where the expression "you should see the other guy" is completely applicable. The other guy had a dislocated jaw and went unconscious a few hours after the accident. Keith was home alone with the boys when Jarno showed up with some angry Batak locals who don't speak English, so he immediately called Norma for help. By her telling, the conversation went something like:
Keith: Hi honey, how are you? Norma: I'm fine. Keith: That's good, because everything is not fine here.
Norma was able to convince the other family not to involve the police. "It's just another person to pay." As is normal with these accidents, the injured man was taken to his house because the family can't afford to take him to the hospital. When they have assurance that Jarno will pay the hospital bills and have some cash up front, then they'll take him. Norma will take her cousin who is a local in Samosir to do the negotiations with the other family. All in all, this will be an expensive ordeal for Jarno. What will likely happen in the end is Jarno will pay for both motorcycles to be repaired (one of them belongs to Norma and Keith) and the victim's hospital bills, in addition to some additional cash as a good will gesture. He's just lucky that he has Norma on his side. The locals don't take well to foreigners causing accidents..
Poor Jarno.. but my week was fun. The staff at my guesthouse was awesome and I spent a whole lot of time doing nothing and hanging out with them. One night they had a fish barbecue after work, made some Batak sauce to dip it in, and hung out by the lake playing guitar and singing. I stayed longer than planned on Samosir because Norma convinced me that I should experience a Batak wedding. It was worth it.
After Samosir, I headed to the Batak village of Dolok Sanggul to which I was invited by the English teachers Lina and Frita the week before. When I hear the word village I immediately think of a quaint little place with a few cows grazing and a population of 20. Not so with Dolok Sanggul. This is a large village, kind of a Batak population center. When I got there, Lina and Frita picked me up from the bus station and took me to the wet market, where Lina's mother has a food stall. Lina's mother made me some spicy noodles with squid and some coffee. Of course, people were quite interested in me because foreigners never come here. Well, almost never. One man said I look like a terrorist. Don't worry, the irony is not lost on me. Apparently Afganis and Pakistanis have been known to use the area to make bombs to detonate in Batak churches and across Indonesia. So the man thought I might be from Afganistan.. Maybe it's time to shave and get a haircut.
That night I stayed in a hotel in town. Here's the view from my balcony:
My Afgan appearance was reaffirmed the next day when we were stopped by three plainclothes police officers demanding to see my passport. I handed them a copy. Ok, American.. So I'm not a terrorist. Next they asked to see my visa. Since I'm not a terrorist, they were hoping that I at least had an expired visa so that I could pay them not to arrest me. No dice, my visa is valid. At this point they changed tactics and asked Lina and Frita for their phone numbers, and for money (I'm not sure in which order..), both of which the girls declined.
Before I go on I should talk about Lina. She is 21 years old, still a university student (English language major), and a brilliant entrepreneur. She is currently running two language schools in two separate villages, with 8 teachers working for her and over 100 fee paying students. Her schools offer different class levels as well as private tutoring. The first school, and main office, is run out of her mother's house in Dolok Sanggul. The second school is in the remote village of Sipahutar, where I spent the last few days. Lina bought a "house" in Sipahutar where the teachers sleep, and they use rooms in the local senior high school to teach after school. She rotates teachers between the villages every few months to keep the kids interested, and she plans on opening two more schools in different villages next year. Her stated goal is "to develop my country." By creating a business, employing her friends, and encouraging more education I'd say she is on the right track. Pretty impressive, huh?
So that morning Lina and I headed a few hours into the rural abyss to Sipahutar to meet with Tia, who is the teacher currently stationed in Sipahutar. I would honestly not be surprised if I was the first white person to come to Sipahutar since the Dutch missionaries tamed the locals 150 years ago. Ok, sorry, maybe that was culturally insensitive, but first listen to the history. Just 150 years ago the Batak people were warring cannibal clans, who ate their enemies and ate their criminals. In fact, though they are now God-loving Christians, they are far from tame. The Batak have a reputation throughout Indonesia of being abrasive. As Norma puts it, "it's because we don't take sh%t from anyone." When Norma was younger she worked at a hotel in Sulawesi, and the hotel manager had to make a special exception to their "no hiring Batak" policy.
For three nights I slept on benches that didn't fit together well and weren't the same height. I was basically sleeping on boards, and I used my dirty laundry in a plastic bag as a pillow. After the first night, I had bruises on my hip bones. Making it even harder to sleep were the pigs f$%$%%g right outside. They really get into it. The male grunts and the female squeals. "Uhhgggggg, ughhhhgggg, uhgggggg, skreeeeeeeeeeiiik, shreeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiik." Well, I guess I asked for it when I told Lina that I can sleep anywhere. I also confirmed that yes, I can sleep anywhere.
There were many examples of the infamous Batak personality in my few days in Sipahutar. While we were having some delicious pork soup with huge chunks of pork fat and skin (sooo good!) at a local restaurant, a young teenager came up and starting recording me eating on his video camera. After a minute or two I became annoyed and took my video camera out and starting recording him back, but he didn't budge (see below video). Even the young kids aren't shy. After leaving the restaurant, a chorus of children chanted, in sync, "Bule! Bule!" Bule is the Indonesian word for white person. I have a feeling that it has a negative connotation, but its also the only word available.
Don't get me wrong, I was warmly received by most of the villagers, but the exceptions stand out. Sipahutar is apparently a relatively wealthy village because they grow pineapples. Quick question: Am I the only one that thought pineapples grew on trees?! They don't.. they grow off the ground on a small bush. Anyways, Lina wanted to get me some fresh pineapple so the next day Lina, Tia and I set out on a mission to find some. Near her house we passed a soccer field and someone in a group of guys from a different village was yelling at me "Come heree! Comme heree!" Now normally in that situation, its best to keep walking. But for some reason Lina said "He is interested to know you! Why don't you go talk to him!" Really? I guess, if you say so. Predictably, it would have been better to keep walking. I got the feeling they were mocking me in Batak language (dead giveaway: the loud guy says something and everyone else laughs hysterically). Translated by Lina, while he was biting the air: "Aren't you scared of Batak people? We eat people." No, not scared, unless you eat skin and bones. My suspicions of their less than friendly nature was confirmed when Tia said "I don't like these guys, let's go," looking very uncomfortable. They wanted me to referee their soccer game. Sorry guys, I don't speak your language, don't know the rules, and don't want to sit here for an hour. So they thought I was arrogant for refusing the honor. Lina said "If we don't give them what they want, they will bother us" also looking uncomfortable, but we eventually just walked off.
One of the guys was genuinely friendly and spoke good English, so the four of us jumped on two motorcycles and continued the mission to find pineapples. We drove around for a couple of hours and I got to see a lot of the surrounding area. We first went to the guy's family farm, but didn't find any ripe pineapples. The second farm was also a dud. The third and final farm we went to was Tia's aunt's farm. Her cousin disappeared into the field and came back with three small pineapples. It was, without exaggeration, the best pineapple I've ever eaten! Success! They also picked us some Tiu (undoubtedly spelled incorrectly), which I'd never had before but was also very good. Sumatra is full of delicious fruit that I never knew existed. Before we left, Tia's aunt grabbed a papaya from a tree and handed it to us to take home. By now it was getting dark, and on the ride home a motorcycle zipped by with no headlights. I was just thinking of how dangerous that was when I noticed that our motorcycle also had no headlights.
Until now I have been trying to explain my complicated religious viewpoint to Indonesians. Well, I guess it's not that complicated: One parent Jewish, one parent Christian, and I'm an agnostic with no religion. This does not make sense to Indonesians. In Indonesia, you are required by law to declare your religion, and you can choose from (according to Wikipedia) several options: Islam, Christianity, Protestantism, Roman Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism. I also tried to explain it to Lina, but being Indonesian she didn't really understand. So when a bunch of interested Batak people inquired about my religion she looked at me and I gave up; "just say Christian." Being a religious village, almost everyone in the entire village goes to church on Sunday, and it would be disrespectful as a guest not to also go. So.. I went to my second Batak church service last Sunday (the first being last Thursday's Batak wedding on Samosir). I actually learned something at church. I learned that 5 minutes is a very long period of time. This became apparent to me because I only checked my watch after a very long period of time had passed, and it always seemed to be exactly 5 minutes. Two hours and an eternity later, church was done!
Also speaking of religion, I should mention that while Lina was praying before meals I used the opportunity to hope that I didn't die of food poisoning from the meat that had obviously been sitting out all day. It worked! Food delicious, me alive. I experimented with pork, buffalo, and even fish, all sitting out all day, all amazing!
My last full day in the village was on Monday, and we went to the senior high school all day. Like in Java, instant celebrity status returned (I'm not gonna lie, I like it). We went into every senior and junior level class to talk to the kids. Basically, Lina and the headmaster both wanted me to tell the kids how important learning English is to their success. But.. I didn't feel comfortable coming to their country and telling them that my language is more important. However, after a couple of classes, I had the sales pitch down. The gist of it was: "In Indonesia, you have many different people and hundreds of languages, but you all can communicate using one common language: Indonesian. Similarly, English has become an international language, and with it you can communicate with people all over the world." Something like that..
Later that day we came back to the school to teach Lina's course. Part of how they teach the course is by playing English language songs and writing the lyrics on the board. They help the class translate, read along, and then sing along. By the sixth time through Celine Dion's "God Bless Us Everyone" Christmas song, I was convinced that I had actually died of food poisoning and gone to hell for saying I was Christian. Luckily, the sing along ended and I got to take over the class. First, I taught a little about the word "do," and then just opened up a question and answer session to help the kids practice their conversational skills. Aside from the standard questions (are you married? what is your religion? what is your girlfriends name? do you have facebook?), one kid asked "Where are your friends?" I'm alone. "You are not afraid of the Batak people?" Nope. "Mister, you are very brave. I would not travel to another village without my friends!" Even the Batak are afraid of the Batak. But my favorite question of the day was "Do you want to play football (soccer) with us?" So after class I played in a 5 on 5 soccer match with all of the boys.
This is random, but here is what a conversation with a Batak girl is like: "Mister, you're so handsome! You're sooo tall! And your nose is so pointy!" Yes, almost every Batak person mentioned that I have a very pointy nose. By now I am convinced that I could write a letter with it if I dipped it in ink. At first I was kind of annoyed, but then I realized that they actually think that having a pointy nose is a desirable attribute. Don't get me wrong, it's no where near as important as height. I am absolutely convinced that height is the number one physical attribute Indonesian women look for in men. But the Batak also have a strang fixation on noses. One church worker stood next to me for comparison and said (translated): "He may be taller, and his nose may be pointier, but I am more handsome. Look, I am dressed much nicer!"
Meet Lina, Tia, and Tyna, and delicious Misop (Padang food, not Batak food):
So after a few days, a great experience, and a very sore back, I set off to Bukit Tinggi where I am now. The bus left at 2PM and arrived here at 5AM this morning. I only slept for two hours, and my back is in even worse condition than before. I haven't showered in two days, I tragically dropped my soap into the toilet back in Dolok Sanggul, and all my clothes are dirty. After this, I will find a hotel with hot water and a laundry service and treat myself. I'm willing to pay up to $10 a night for luxury! But first I will tell you about another tragedy. Near the start of the bus ride, we came about another motorcycle accident. This is now the third motorcycle accident I've seen in Indonesia (I'm not counting Jarno's because I didn't see it). A mother with her two daughters (both looked between 8 and 10 years old) were standing next to a downed motorcycle. Of course none of them were wearing a helmet. The older of the girls had blood all over her face, and it was still gushing out. She was standing still, quiet, with a shocked look. The younger girl had dirt all over one side of her face from where she landed (it was a very rocky dirt road), but I didn't see any blood. She was walking around, crying loudly, yelling something unintelligible. The mother was standing, also shocked, with dirt all over her back and legs (the clothes protected her), and bleeding from her calf. Five men got off the bus to help them. Help consisted of picking up the motorcycle, getting them all on it, and watching them drive off. They will go home, not to a hospital, because a hospital will be too expensive. I didn't record this on my video camera, firstly because its not right, but also because I don't want to see it again. I hope the girl is alright.
It's been an eventful week.
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And since I didn't write enough yesterday, I've decided to give you an update! I got a hotel (cold shower) but I forgot to buy new soap! So I used a bar of Tide laundry detergent to clean my entire body and hair. You'll be glad to know that I didn't get a rash and I smelled amazing all day long! And tonight, instead of catching up on sleep - instead of sleeping - I will go for a 10-12 hour hike up Mt. Merapi, Sumatra's most active volcano. (Note that this is not the volcano of the same name that is actively erupting on Java).
and i was mistaken for a 16 year old...completely irrelevant but both equally exciting.
i wish they could standardize all applications...for everything - regardless of if you're applying for undergrad, graduate studies, a job at mcdonald's, an ibanking job...
it would be incredible to only have to fill out one application, similar to your resume, for your entire life...
i think I just found my goal in life. similar to shi huang di who standardized money, roads etc. in China . I am going to standardize applications.
Yesterday I attended a traditional Batak wedding. The Batak are Christian Indonesians living in North Sumatra. I've now attended church services in English, Spanish, Cantonese, and Indonesian (or Batak.. not sure which language was being spoken). Not bad for someone with no religion, eh?
After the church service, there's something like a reception for the next 12 hours until 2 in the morning. I went for lunch to have some kind of spicy fatty pig, a traditional Batak wedding meal. Yum. The younger people come at night, so I went back with the staff of my guesthouse. We each put some money on a plate under dry rice as an offering to the newlyweds, and then did some kind of Batak wedding line dance with our hands together, followed by all-out energetic dancing to Indonesian disco music, and then some more traditional Batak dancing. Good times.
I've been at Lake Toba for 5 days now, and will be moving on tomorrow. Since this is the only place that foreigners come to in the area, groups of students and their teachers come here every Sunday from surrounding villages to practice their English. This is exactly what happened last Sunday, and after talking to one such group for a while I was invited to their village "so that they can introduce me to everyone because they have never met a foreigner before." So of course I accepted. Tomorrow I'll bus three hours to the village of Doloksangul. Should be interesting..
Last week I climbed a volcano in Berastagi with two Dutch guys that I met. It was awesome. It wasn't as visually stunning as Bromo or Ijen, but we were literally the only ones there and we were able to walk down into the crater. The volcano had many geisers with smoke pouring out, most of them pretty small, but one decent size (not nearly as big as Ijen or Bromo) and there was water sitting in a pool boiling. Each volcano is so unique. I'm starting to think I may be a volcano enthusiast..
I've got a couple of videos. I'll post pictures later when I get them from one of the other guys..
Ari and I also made a short trip to Pulau Langkawi (approximately 3 hours from Pulau Penang) and unfortunately, although the island had the same "chilled out" vibe, we were slightly underwhelmed by the beaches and completely overwhelmed by the intense waves and serious undertow. Basically it had me wondering how anyone could survive a tsunami.
(Note: Looking at these photos again has made it very apparent that we were/are completely spoiled by the white sand beaches and beautiful clear calm water of The Perhentian Islands. And the above statements are probably even more ridiculous compared to the quickly approaching New England winter...sorry. Sometimes, looks can be deceiving...)
So when we arrived we rented a scooter and drove around the island. Ari usually the designated driver, had me ride up and down a deserted street with him on the back...
and it would be INCREDIBLE to have a scooter in the US- do you know how much faster it would be than walking?
Anyway the map we had, boasted a black sand beach "Pantai Pasir Hitam" on the other side of the island. Sounds pretty awesome right? Sadly,
this is me giving the beach a (deserved) thumb down...
and if i wasn't holding my helmet in the other hand i would have given it two thumbs down...
we drove around for awhile before it started to rain and we headed back to Pantai Cenang (where we were staying), went swimming for about 30 mins, had some pretty good lebanese food (there's a large middle eastern community) and basically that's it...
And, those are our highlights of Pulau Langkawi. We only stayed one night and probably only had a tiny taste of the island but we were pretty excited to get back to Penang...
did i mention that we saw some of the historical/touristy sites in Penang?
Protestant cemetery from the 18th century
with some famous "residents" - many who were British or Dutch settlers that died of Malaria and other random tropical weather related illnesses. The husband of Anna from the "King and I" is buried here.
Gravestone of Francis Light (in the middle), founder of Penang.
a crazy second hand book-emporium with tiny stalls and literally floor to ceiling books - anything you could want in almost any language and that I can only describe as a huge fire hazard
and local stalls. Here Amelleia and I are attempting to procure some batik sarongs
we have to give a huge thank you to Amelleia who was an incredible tour-food guide, host and brave soul for hosting us without hesitation even though Ari had some suspicious insect bites and an on-coming cold - all while she is in the middle of exams!
GOOD LUCK ON YOUR EXAMS!!!!!
And of course thank you Rudy for (gently yet firmly) goading us to visit Penang and Gerry and Rosalind for letting us crash at your place!!!
Rudy and Amelleia after the Philippines I think you need to start planning a trip to the states!!!!!
After sadly realizing our visas in Indonesia were not going to be renewed unless we left the country (hence changing our itinerary) we tried to figure out the most cost effective/time effective/somewhat environmentally friendly next move on our trip and decided on Penang! (This decision was also greatly influenced by Rudy and Amelleia who said with utter disbelief "What??! You aren't going to Penang? You haven't been to Malaysia if you haven't been to Penang! Everything is better in Penang!")
So, off we went. And Rudy, Amelleia you were right. Penang was incredible! if you're looking for cheap eats, a plethora of variety, incredible cost to taste ratio (or is it taste to cost ratio? mmm - low cost, big taste) all on a chilled out little island with beaches to boot - then Penang (Malaysia) is your/our Utopia. Am i starting to sound like a travel guide?
We stayed in Batu Ferringhi for a few days at a cute guesthouse on the beach. Mostly we slept and tried to recuperate from "sleeping" at the airport...
And then moved to Amelleia and Rudy's place to begin a three-day food tour - food stalls, hawker centers, restaurants - Penang was the perfect respite from Indonesia.
Here we are enjoying some fresh soy milk...
Indian food to celebrate Deepavali...
Fresh coconut juice ice cream milkshakes...
Pickled nutmeg (this is the fruit)...
Nasi Kandar - named after the carrying baskets it used to be sold in (we had a selection of chicken, squid, cabbage and okra with rice flavoured with chicken and various curries)
chicken rice, char kway teow and oysters...
and burgers from a night stall - that is two beef patties marinated with some worcestershire sauce, pepper, wrapped in a fried egg topped with cheese, onions, hot sauce, mayonnaise and a partridge in a pear tree.
Don't worry, we didn't consume all of this in one day...actually all this was in two days. haha
So what did we learn? In Penang food is everything. In one day you can have breakfast, brunch, lunch, dunch/linner, dinner and then the original "fourth meal" (as taco bell calls it) which I guess would actually be "sixth meal". This is distinguished from dinner and called supper by the locals. AND the best part is, sixth meal is not just for drunk college kids.
...to ride a motorcycle in Indonesia. Nevertheless, its the main form of transportation for Indonesians, including children and old people.
Today, my bus hit a motorcycle carrying two fifty year old women. It's the second motorcycle accident I've seen thus far in Indonesia. The aggressive driver (they all are) forced the motorcycle off the road, and while passing we heard a couple of loud thumps from the side of the bus. Neither woman had any visible injuries. One was sitting on the grass, completely dazed (possible concussion?) with her helmet five meters way, and the other was angrily arguing with the bus driver and ticket collectors. The bus crew was "kind" enough to get off the bus, move the motorcycle further off the road, and get the women's luggage out from under the bus tire. I got off the bus and gave the dazed woman my bottle of water. There's not much you can do in that situation. Five minutes later we were back on the road. The bus driver didn't seem bothered. I'm sure he'll sleep just fine tonight. Such is life in this part of the world.
Apologies - we've been neglecting the blog this week! We spent a week in Penang (Malaysia), but we'll have to do a post-dated post on that. Penang really is king when it comes to food.
Anyways, our trip has radically changed. Janet is back in Hong Kong working on grad school applications. I'm in Sumatra going solo with just a day pack. This pack is so small that I had trouble packing it for a weekend trip back home. Janet kindly took all of my unnecessary stuff back to HK.
If you've heard of Sumatra before, it's probably because of natural disasters. This island is very disaster prone. Devastating earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis are frequent. Perhaps you've heard of Sumatra because of the very strict sect of Islam practiced in the province of Aceh. Sumatra is also known for its diversity of wildlife. Here, tigers, rhinos, and orangutans still live in the wild.
My general itinerary had me flying out of Padang in a few weeks, but apparently an earthquate/tsunami combo just hit the region. Current plans are very fluid.. I'm currently in the city of Medan. According to the guidebook, it's "featureless transit point" with not much to do. This might be true, but its a lot of fun being completely immersed. I'm actually at the point where I can [painfully] converse in Indonesian. People are so surprised to see a white guy speaking Indonesian (in addition to their initial surprise of seeing a white guy, full stop), I have to admit, it's fun.
On another note, Obama arrived in Indonesia on the same day as I did. Its much nicer to have strangers excitedly talk about Obama (who spent his childhood here) than talk about American priests burning Qu'rans. Most of the little food stalls had their TVs tuned in to his speech today. It was subtitled in Indonesian. I was thinking back to any time a foreign leader speaks for an American audience, and realized that it's always dubbed [poorly]. Are we too lazy to read?
Oh, yeah. No more pictures. I don't have a camera. I do have my flip though.. expect plenty of videos and low quality screenshots of the videos in place of pictures.
This post is long overdue. What amazed me more than the natural beauty of the crater lake was the daily struggle of the local sulfur miners. Twice each day, they walk several kilometers up the mountain, climb down into the volcano, dig out 60-80 kg of sulfur, climb back out of the volcano, and walk back down the hill. According to Lonely Planet, they make about 600 rupiah per kilo (roughly USD $10 per day).
A miner mentally prepares to descend into the crater
There weren't many tourists, but most of the ones that do come here stop at the lip of the crater and don't climb down the steep path to the lake. Our guidebook mentioned that a French tourist fell and died some years back. Perhaps it happened again, because by the time we got there it was "forbidden" to go down.
Kurang selamat
So naturally I went down. At first I was hesitant, but I really wanted to do it. After all, I thought, if these guys can do this every day with 80 kgs on their back, why wouldn't I be able to? And it helped that one of the miners was urging me to come with him. I pointed at the sign and said to him in Indonesian "less safe," but he shrugged his shoulders, and so off we went. Janet decided to wait at the top, as she's prone to trip on your average sidewalk.
Following my guide down into the abyss.
As we got closer to the bottom, gusts of smoke would hit us. My guide gestured that I use my shirt to breath through. At one point the smoke was so thick that he pulled me to the ground. We squatted there, blinded by smoke, coughing. At the bottom, it was almost constantly that thick.
Just another day at the office.
When we got to the bottom, two guys with gas masks told me not to go further. When they weren't looking, my guide pulled me further. After more than five minutes, I handed my guide 7000 rupiah and headed back up the cliff.
The bottom of the volcano during a very brief moment with less sulfur smoke.
Sulfur smoke is not pleasant. You duck down and hold your breath. You can't see. You can't breath. Your eyes burn. Tears pour out. Your lungs burn a different type of burn than you've ever felt. A sharp, crisp, poisonous burn. And if you're my guide or the hundreds of other laborers, you suck it up and dig out some rocks.
As you can see, there is no high-tech pack to distribute the weight to his hips. All of the weight is resting on one small part of his shoulder.
If you ever hear me complaining about my job at any point in my life, please punch me. Much respect for these guys.
Below you can see a guy having a casual cell phone conversation while driving.. his motorcycle! The video quality isn't very good.. I was filming from inside of an angkot (public transportation van).
you're probably as tired of reading as i am of writing...so basically we went to mt. bromo with three other volunteers from PWEC. The views are supposed to be spectacular but we were plagued by rainclouds and sulfur clouds. All volcanoes on Java are being closely monitored for increased seismic activity - hence the additional sulfur smoke. However, we optimistically got up for sunrise and then hiked up to the volcano itself.
And for your enjoyment, here are the highlights in photo form.
the extent of the sunrise
gunung bromo and gunung semeru smoking away
hopefully you can see this if you zoom in, but this is a photo of ari and toby hiking around the crater
The losing team.
The boys.
I am one of the few Durian-eating bule out there.
fifty year old women. It's the second motorcycle accident I've seen thus far in Indonesia. The aggressive driver (they all are) forced the motorcycle off the road, and while passing we heard a couple of loud thumps from the side of the bus. Neither woman had any visible injuries. One was sitting on the grass, completely dazed (possible concussion?) with her helmet five meters way, and the other was angrily arguing with the bus driver and ticket collectors. The bus crew was "kind" enough to get off the bus, move the motorcycle further off the road, and get the women's luggage out from under the bus tire. I got off the bus and gave the dazed woman my bottle of water. There's not much you can do in that situation. Five minutes later we were back on the road. The bus driver didn't seem bothered. I'm sure he'll sleep just fine tonight. Such is life in this part of the world.
