Soutern Thailand and Indonesia Pictures

Here are the pictures from my trip to southern Thailand and Indonesia.

Enjoy!

Large Lakes and the Trans-Sumatran Highway Epic

Arriving in Medan was uneventful. I was on the overnight bus from Banda Aceh and as such arrived early in the morning. I found a ride into town and a room quickly and was ready for the day. I spent the day mostly just wandering around town and catching up with emails and such. One of the more interesting happenings of the day was when I strolled up to the Northern Sumatra Military Museum. I had seen it on the map and had wandered over there. Much to my dismay, it was closed. However, there was a guard at the gate. I told him that I had walked all the way out here just to come see the museum. He apparently took pity on me and quickly offered to give me a private tour of the museum. He ran off to get some keys and we walked around the museum with him unlocking and locking different doors as we passed from one room to another. Along with opening doors he gave me some information about the displays in his best English. Unfortunately his best English was hard to understand and I missed most of what he said. But the thought was appreciated. After we had gone through the whole museum, we stood at the entrance and I thanked him for the tour. I was about to walk away and he put out his had to shake mine. I did. I pull my hand away and he had slipped a 20,000 rupiah note into my hand and began to walk away. I stood there very confused. Of all the things which could have precipitated at that moment, this was not one I could have predicted. I had expected him to ask for money – a fee for letting me in and giving me a tour which I would assume would go straight into his pocket. But that wasn’t asked for nor even alluded to. Instead he slips me money. And 20,000 rupiah is a good bit of money as well. You can buy a nice lunch for 10,000 rupiah. Not knowing what to do and him having gone off back into the back of the museum, I simply walked away. Nothing much else of note happened that day.

The following morning I was up at the crack of dawn and caught the bus to Parapet, the town closest to Lake Toba. Lake Toba is a huge volcanic lake and is the largest lake in SE Asia. About four hours from Medan, this bus ride was uneventful. Coming around a corner, we were given our first glimpse of the lake and the imposing volcanic mountains surrounding this body of freshwater. The bus slowly wound its way down to the edge of the lake and parked right across from the pier so it was simply a short 100m walk from the bus to the waiting ferry. Shortly after I boarded, it began to pour. Passengers clamored aboard but workers and locals continued to carry on as if nothing happened, now only slightly inhibited by the plastic rain coats that they threw on with the first drops. Crossing the lake was uneventful. Arriving in the midst of a downpour creates problems and makes finding a place to stay quite hard. After a very wet motorcycle ride, I arrived at a guest house and made myself comfortable and had lunch while I waited for the rain to stop to go off in search of a place to stay. The food was amazing. I had a freshly caught fish from the lake smothered in a spicy sauce with an avocado salad and all the while the rain fell. I was quite content. Venturing out after the rain stopped I followed a small ring road around the peninsula. The island is rather large, but this small peninsular sticks out towards Parapet and that’s where many of the guest houses and hotels are located. As I walked, the town felt abandoned – there weren’t many people out and about. I attributed that to the rain at first, but that judgment soon proved wrong. I found a nice place to stay right on the northern tip of the peninsula which offered lake front views for 180 degrees. A walked around the rest of the peninsula and dinner rounded out the evening.

The following day I rented a motorbike and took off to try to see more of the island. There is a road which circles the island along the coast and passes by several sights of interest and has good views. So I hit the road. I stopped at an old village which still had the old batak houses (the traditional house) as well as many different rock carvings and statues. Here they had preserved the “courtroom” where thieves and criminals were brought and guilt determined. Should they be declared guilty, there was also an execution rock around back were death sentences were carried out. Along the road there were many rice fields and other fields. In Thailand, there are spirit houses placed near the rice fields where offerings can be made. It’s come out of the animist tradition. In Indonesia, the animist tradition was blended with the influx of Christian missionaries and there what can only be described as spirit houses that look like small churches in the fields here. The further south you go in Sumatra, the more Christian it becomes. Aceh is very Muslim and Parapet and Toba are almost all Christian.

This conversion to Christianity was a result of Dutch missionaries coming to Indonesia in the 19^th and 20^th centuries. They established themselves here and began converting the locals. One man I talked to reinforced my previously held views on missionaries. As he talked about his culture and heritage, specifically about their previously held animistic beliefs (many of which have been blended into a local form of Christianity), he was very critical of his ancestors and their beliefs. He spoke in way which to me seemed to be so influenced and dictated by missionaries. I’m having a hard time articulating this conversation at the moment. But he dismissed what his ancestors believed as magic and claimed that the magic was gone. I’m sorry this is so poorly worded but to me reinforced my dislike of the whole concept of missionaries.

Coming back to Tuk Tuk, the name of the peninsula, I dropped the motorbike off and took off for another evening stroll around. This time it wasn’t raining and the town was equally as deserted. The infrastructure here could (and did) support a large number of tourists. But as tourism has declined in Indonesia (for many reasons, many of which are supported by false claims) these hotels and restaurants are left empty. My usual method of determining where to eat – by finding a place with many people – was ineffective as in every restaurant there were only a small number (if any) of people. My business was welcome and I had my run of the island.

The next chapter of this story is an epic journey. From Lake Toba, I had to make my way down towards Bukitinggi and eventually Padang. I was flying out of Padang to head back to Lampang to teach summer school. Before hoping on the boat to cross back to the mainland, I reserved my bus ticket. I would leave Parapet at 4:30 and 14 hours later arrive in Bukitinggi. I got on the ferry at 3pm. I didn’t stop traveling until 4:45 the following day as I crawled into a hotel in Bukitinggi. Arriving at the bus station, I met several guys who had been there for a few hours already waiting for their bus that had yet to arrive. It was now several hours late and proved to be an ill omen for me. 4:30 came and went and there was no bus. There were about seven of us waiting for the bus, three people for the early bus and four for my bus. At about 7:30, the early bus arrived. It was supposed to arrive at about 1:00. Ours didn’t arrive until an hour later. We were overjoyed upon its arrival but that joy was soon swept out the door and replaced with disbelief. The bus we had been waiting five hours for was full. There were no seats on this bus. Our reservations hadn’t been passed on to the right person and so all the seats in Medan were sold. After another hour of heated discussion between the bus operator and the folks working at the bus station, a solution was presented. They would put several people on seats in the aisle. Three of us would sit on a bench against the back wall. These were normal seats but couldn’t recline. The last person, me, would be on a makeshift bench squeezed between the last row of seats and the toilet. Hard wooden benches and a back that was vertical. I was given a pillow to make things easier. We finally left and were settling in when we stopped again. After being on the road for about five minutes we stopped to eat dinner. Eventually we did move on but it wasn’t until about 10:30 that we actually started to make some progress. Between the pillow I was given, my own travel pillow and my rain jacket, I was able to make my seat somewhat comfortable and got some sleep. But at about 3am I was woken up and told to get off the bus. Bleary eyed I looked around and everyone else was filing off the bus. I grabbed my rain jacket and followed suit. Stepping out of the bus I realized what was happening and hopped back on the bus to grab my camera. We had stopped at the base of a hill. All night we’d be rocked back and forth along the Trans-Sumatran Highway which in places in barely more than a dirt road and at its best a windy and narrow road. At this point, the road was dirt – clay would be a more accurate term – and was riddled with potholes and rocks. Looking ahead of me was a truck halfway up the hill with more lights up top of the hill. Looking back was a line of headlights stretching as far as I could see. Walking up the muddy slope to the top of the hill we passed by several men kneeling in front of the truck. They were attaching a cable to the truck which in turn was attached to a winch which would pull the truck up the hill. Once this was accomplished, our bus was up. As it revved the engines and roared up the hill it was bounced back and forth over the rocks and bumps tilting precariously to one side and then the other. Eventually it reached its limit and stopped. Cables attached and winch straining under the weight and our bus was dragged up the hill. We happily climbed aboard and continued our way along the Trans-Sumatran Highway which continued to be dirt and bumpy for several more hours preventing sleep.

As I drifted off, I noticed that we had come to a stop but since I was finally asleep I was uninterested. As the day broke, I woke up to realize that we were still stopped. Climbing out of the bus and walking down along the road I realized what was keeping us. During the night, two landslides had slide across the road. The first was the smaller of the two but as the rain continued to fall it washed the slippery clay across the road causing a bus to slide off the road into the ditch, partially blocking the road. The second slide came after and was larger and blocked the other part of the road slightly behind the now stuck bus. Eventually things were maneuvered in such a way that we could pass and did. The line of trucks, cars and buses stretched for kilometers. Many of the trucks were loaded down with oil palm fruits.

Eventually we arrived in Bukitinggi. There wasn’t any other hindrance (other that the nature of the road) and we made decent time. Overall it took about 25 hours to make that 500ish km journey, a distance comparable to Bangkok-Lampang. But that journey takes only 8-9 hours.

As a result of the delay I only had a day in Bukitinggi so I was confined to just walking around town. It was a beautiful little town nestled in the mountains surrounded by active volcanoes. It was occupied during WWII and there were some old Japanese caves nearby which I explored as well as several markets and mosques. But pretty much I just recovered from my journey. The following day, in the afternoon, I headed to Padang. I spent the evening there and was off to Kuala Lumpur the next morning. I had to stay in KL for a day to catch my flight to Chiang Mai the following morning. It was good to be back in KL. I really enjoyed my time there. I treated myself to some good food and took in the Petronas Towers again as well as a movie and an art gallery. Then the flight to CM and the bus ride to Lampang and I was home again.

Banda Aceh

After a few days on Pulau Weh, I made my way back to Banda Aceh. I arrived in the evening after having taken the afternoon ferry back. I quickly went into town and found a place to stay and got rid of my bag. I had a few hours of light left so I went out to explore a little and get my bearings. I spent about an hour walking around the area near the hotel. One of the things I enjoy about new cities is period of exploration or getting my bearings. Whenever I arrive in a new city, I always like to take big blocks of the city and walk them – essentially walking in a big square. It helps me to gain a better perspective of where I am in the city, the size of the city and gives me landmarks to help me navigate over the following days when I’m sure to wander off in search of things and inevitably get a little turned around. Plus it’s a great way to see the city – simply walking around. I passed by some busy markets, one of which was a fish market which in the evening after the afternoon heat didn’t smell too pleasant. Near the river I found a project sponsored by USAID and some incredible views upriver of the main mosque in town. The sky turned menacing and black and the wind picked up so I started to work my way back passing some pool halls whose location I mentally noted so I could return later or the following day. As I walked back, the pangs of hunger which are so common after these long walks returned, I began looking for a food stall – my only criteria being that they have large avocados. I found one, sat down and was immediately engaged in conversation by a young man sitting at the next table. Now this wasn’t extraordinary – in Indonesia, much more so than Thailand, foreigners are fairly rare. The national greeting for foreigners in Indonesia is, “Hello, Mister”! It’s shouted indiscriminately and often. You’ll hear it from, at times, every warm body you pass by on the streets. It’s charming at first, but as the daily grind wears on you this inevitably changes. However, this man’s English and the quality of his thought took me by surprise. Rex owned the shop next door and quickly became one of the more interesting people I’ve met traveling. Over the next few hours we sat there chatting, interrupted only by the need for him to take care of the occasional customer. Originally from Banda Aceh and having lived there all his life and having learned English and spent a good deal of time with foreign aid agencies had a unique perspective on many of the “issues” in Banda Aceh. Banda Aceh is known for its longstanding history of natural disasters, the Boxing Day Tsunami in particular, and its desire for independence from Indonesia.

My first exposure to Banda Aceh came as I was whisked from the bus station to the ferry terminal on the back of a motorcycle on my way to Pulau Weh. We wound our way through villages - each house identical to the others - which had been built by aid agencies after the tsunami destroyed the previous village. Villages which prior to the tsunami were made up of a diverse collection of houses established over many years and whose boundaries often paralleled family lines where now distinguished only by the different aid agencies which built and designed them. The villages quickly gave way to the sea and the shore. We wound along the shore for several kilometers. Looking over my left shoulder towards the ocean, one could only attempt to imagine what others would have been looking at as the huge wave raced towards shored. The shore line was denuded. Even after four years it looked unnaturally bare and featureless. There were a few pockets where some vestiges of life had sprung up along the shore. Buildings were rebuilt, ports and docks refashioned and reopened and these pockets bustled. But they were still dominated by the landscape and barren terrain that lay between them. As I slowly absorbed these powerful images, the landscape which had dominated my vision slowly gave way to another now ubiquitous feature of Banda Aceh – construction.

Passing through those coastal regions twice (on the way to and from the ferry) gave me a limited, but powerful visual understanding of how the tsunami impacted the town. Talking with Rex, and then traveling with him to a few other places, added a more personal understanding to that visual experience. Rex was in Banda Aceh the day the tsunami hit and has been actively involved with the reconstruction of the city. Off and on over the last four years, he’s worked with different aid organizations and rebuilt his own business. He’s been a translator, a guide and a teacher all in addition to running and managing his shop. Rex describes the events and the tsunami and despite the clarity and power of his descriptions my attempts to visualize them fail. The power of this wave defies comprehension. I tell Rex this. Minutes later we are standing at the base of a large ship. Easily 30m tall and 60m long, this massive bulk of steel and iron now sits three kilometers inland -then ocean isn’t even in sight. Originally two kilometers out to sea, this mass was lifted out of the ocean and carried five kilometers to its final resting spot right in the heart of a small village. The village has now been rebuilt, but the ship remains. A small handwritten message has been inscribed on the side of the ship with the date 24-12-2004. The conversation gives way to absolute awe and disbelief but soon we’re driving through many of the new villages built by the aid agencies. They have been hastily built and are all identical – one village, one design. Inconsistencies between villages has resulted in a lot of conflict as one family is given a house with certain specs only to learn that another family is given a different house in a different village which has better specs. Some villages sit empty or unfinished. We headed towards the shore and towards one of the mass graves that were constructed immediately after the tsunami. I wasn’t sure about going. Had I been alone I probably wouldn’t have gone. However, Rex wanted to take me and so we went. It was very simple. A large grassy area surrounded by a small fence with each post carrying one of the many names of Allah in Arabic. They are constructing something in the shell of the old hospital which stands behind the site. The road that passes in front in under construction as is most of the surrounding area. Traffic rumbles by bumping along the dirt road. We join the steady march of cars passing this lone green patch of land and meander along the coast. Our last stop is at a small house which during the tsunami was given an unwelcome addition. A large fishing boat ended up on top of the house with the lower walls remaining intact. Now the house still stands with this boat perched on top. The government had provided funds to turn the house into a museum/memorial of sorts and the house and boat have been stabilized and other work is currently being done. Like matchsticks, these boats were picked up and flung across the city. One ended up here. Another landed in front of Rex’s shop and countless others were found throughout the city. Most have long since been taken apart. Rex tells me about the boat in front of his shop. Casually he mentions that that boat and the area around his shop were cleaned up by a group of Israeli soldiers. That stuck me as interesting. I probed him further and he came back quickly saying that after the tsunami everyone forgot about politics. They welcomed anyone who would come to help. But, he adds, that attitude quickly faded. His frustrations with the government in Jakarta finally surface. The government began to place tremendous restrictions on the movement of aid workers confining them to certain areas. In the case of the Israeli soldiers, eventually they were forced to go home, he claims. Aid was mostly restricted to Banda Aceh. Many of the villages and towns on the west coast are still in shambles. And slowly he transitions into his obviously previously delivered laundry list of grievances with the Indonesian government. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he desires independence, but accepts the fact that achieving that would be difficult. Money, not culture, lies at the heart of his grievances. Corruption, favoritism and bureaucracy top this list. Ironically, those are same criticisms which are listed to me by a woman from Medan as she complains about Aceh and her frustrations with them. I spent several days talking to Rex and others in Medan and still lack a clear picture of the roots of the conflict and its issues, but I’ve at least been given an introduction to it. These few days gave me lots to think about and process, but they have been rewarding. I’m glad I endured the 24 hour return trip to travel to the northernmost tip of this island.

As a last note, I guess I should mention that I'm actually back home now and am finishing the blog entries. I'll try to get them and the pictures finished and up in the next few days.

Bye!