I flew from Buriram in northeast Thailand to Don Meung in Bangkok, which is the old airport and then had to wait a couple of hours for my flight to Medan. All went smoothly and soon there I was in Sumatra, a name to conjure up all sorts of myths, legends and thoughts of jungles, wild beasts, treasure and ancient history.
You need quite a lot of documents to get here. They are quite officious in that regard, although once in, there hardly seem to be any rules at all! As I had filled in my customs and health declarations in advance and obtained my e-visa on line, I was able to saunter through the e-gates scanning my QR code at the customs desk and that was it, I was in. Quite a few other people were held up and were busy scribbling away filling out their forms and declarations that they had failed to prepare in advance. Tut tut.
I planned to hop on the train into the centre of Medan. The cost is 50,000 Indonesian rupiahs. (There are about 20,000 to £1) so not expensive. However, to my surprise the next train is not for an hour and a half. Disappointed I head to the Grab taxi stand and on my app they show me that it will be 177,000 plus 30,000 express way fees. It’s still only works out at about £10, so I say yes and off we go. I soon arrived at the Kama hotel in central Medan and checked in before the train would have even departed.
The hotel is fine, although I don’t have a window despite booking a superior room. But it’s only 455,000 for the night, so can’t complain.
It’s still at the tail end of the rainy season here and so it is hot humid with occasional bursts of rain.
I immediately head out to look around, no time to waste you know! I head for the central market, which fills a huge dilapidated building about 15 minutes walk away as well as stalls being outside too. The walking isn’t that easy, the pavements, or often the lack of them, are in poor condition with occasional big holes or things just blocking them. At one point I had to walk across the railway tracks, along with all the traffic. Two men were busy welding a section of the track as I walked past. I don’t think many people walk here, but the people are very friendly often calling out ‘hello mister how are you and where are you from’.
The traffic is crazy, masses of motorbikes, cars, lorries and their own version of a Tuk tuk, which is a motorbike and side car, all swerving in and out as they jostle for position. The side car looks a bit like a rickshaw, but without the pole to pull it along. They all look quite decrepit too, it’s wonderful, vibrant chaos.
I did get an an idea of the price for one of these when waiting for a grab bike. They asked 50000 for the drive to my hotel, but I knew a grab bike was only 12500, so I said no. By the time my bike arrived they had reduced the price to 20000. If they had started with that I would have gone with them and not booked the grab bike. Their loss, for giving me a foreigner rate to start with! No one stops at zebra crossing and occasionally not at red lights either. If you want to cross the road you just have to go for it, weaving in and out of the cars and bikes as they whizz by. Exhilarating you could say.
The market is huge and reminds me a little of one of the big markets in Hanoi. There are the usual sections selling clothes, which are amazingly cheap. Four cotton t-shirts for less than £5 for example. Sadly, I just do not have any more space in my bag. There are the usual shoes and leather goods and a whole area piled high with dried fish, which is rather hard on the nose, along with long trestle tables of meat and then live and also not so live chickens. Everywhere there are bright colours and noise.
I took a break outside for some street food and to listen to a band, who were really good. Mostly singing in Indonesian, there were some great guitar riffs and a lot of people watching. There seem to be quite a few celebrations as we are coming up to Ramadan and very soon the restaurants and food places will be shut during the day. Not sure what I’ll eat when that happens, better dig out that packet of biscuits at the the bottom of my rucksack.
There are masses of little shops, stalls and restaurants everywhere outside the market too, all of them hives of activity. You regularly see stalls with long lines of packets hanging from them of different coffees and teas. You sit down choose your flavour and they bring it you. The cost is pennies, but unfortunately they are all what they call mix. In other words the tea or coffee will often have a flavour added, maybe ginger or lemon, but also far too much sweetener.
Near my hotel is the Tjong A Fie Mansion, it belonged to a famous Chinese businessman and is now a heritage museum, still owned by the family. It is a lovely building, beautifully restored and preserved and looking how it was many years ago. I wandered around for quite a while, looking at the displays and the rooms.
My first and only evening in Medan, I headed for a bar/restaurant. Bars and beer are in short supply here and relatively expensive. Wine is exorbitant. As a predominantly muslim country they, like Malaysia don’t ban it, but it is expensive compared to other things here. In Malaysia it’s easier to find, as they have the famed 7/11 stores, which all sell beer. Here in Sumatra there are no 7/11’s, so it’s pot luck. A Bintang sign (most popular local beer) can be a giveaway.
The pub/club/restaurant I headed for was called the Soho Capital and was actually on the 2nd floor of an office block.
On my way there I came upon a big square with some interesting architecture and large impressive buildings, the city hall was one of them, plus some bank head offices. There is an open space with lots of locals chilling out, talking or just walking around. Towering over one end of the green open space is a big white disk/architectural thingy that looks like the saucer section from a Star Trek spaceship.
The bar was empty when I got there apart from the large number of staff having a pep talk in the corner. One dislodged herself from the group and came over, gave me a seat near the stage and brought a menu. The pint of Guinness looked good at 65000, but in fact it wasn’t a pint at all. It was a 330 ml bottle, so I switched to the local Bintang beer, which is very good anyway.
A few people drifted in and then after I’d eaten, the band eventually started. They were excellent. Very tight and professional, The music was mostly soul music with some pop/ soft rock thrown in and the two women singers were excellent, as was the man.
I ummed and ahhed about staying out longer, but decided to head back to my hotel at the end of the first set. It’s been a long few days, what with the well plumbing and then all the travelling today. The band all waved at me and thanked me as I left. I’ve seen very few foreigners here.
Before heading off the next day, I walked down to the main mosque in the city, it wasn’t too far, but they really seem to have all the parts of this city on top of each other. I walked along a street dedicated to steel and iron. Welding and blowtorches were everywhere, men carrying sheets of steel, others using machines to bend them into shapes or hammering away. All this just a stones throw from the posh buildings, shops and big mosques. The walk does me good though as my pillow last night was hard as rock or should I say steel. I had to dispense with it in the end, as I kept waking up. The bed was hard too, but nothing on the Vietnam scale, which as I said in a previous post was literally plank of wood hard.
I stopped for something to eat near the market again and this time went for the classic nasi goreng ayam. There was no cutlery, just a finger bowl. Everyone else was eating with their right hand, so when in Rome as the saying goes. Actually I often ate like this in India, when I was there twenty odd years ago, so it wasn’t really any difficulty.
My drive to Berastagi was great value. I decided against the bus as rain was threatening and often the luggage is put on the roof. The first Grab driver I booked cancelled, but fortunately the second turned up and off we went. We soon left the city behind and started the long climb up into the hills. It’s only about 50km from Medan, however the route is very twisty and climbs from sea level to about 1400m, so it takes about 2 hours.
Before long the rain started lashing down and soon there was a great river running down the road, my driver and others weaved around slow moving lorries and mopeds, as did what they call executive buses here. Painted a rainbow of different colours and with what look like giant bugels sticking out from the roof, the bags are indeed on the roof and there were a few hardy souls sitting on the roof too, soaked to the skin! Exposed to the elements and the swaying of the bus, these people are called berani in Indonesian, which means brave (or perhaps crazy might be more apt).
My hotel the Kaesa home stay overlooking the town is probably the friendliest most helpful place I have ever stayed and I have stayed in a lot of places! If you ever find yourself in Berastagi, head for here. I have a balcony overlooking the town and mountains and the room is decent. Breakfast is also included and they can help and advise you on anything in the area.
It’s a 10 minute walk into town, heading slightly downwards. The main street in the evening turns into a food paradise, with dozens of different eateries springing up selling everything from Nasi goreng ( a type of fried rice full of different spices and flavours) to satay and seafood.
One place recommended to me was a food truck parked up on a corner selling nasi goreng with an Indian twist. Nasi goreng Bombay ayem. (ayem being chicken). They only have a couple of plastic chairs to sit on, but as it was yet again lashing down with rain I sat under the awning next to the chef. The food was amazing, as was sitting there next to the chef watching him do his thing.
I discovered a market down a side road which was definitely not on the tourist route. I got stared at a lot and constant shouts of hello, how are you, where are you from etc. Occasionally a photo together was requested as well. There were tables groaning from the weight of all the different fruits and vegetables. Children and chickens running around, pig heads staring at you as you walked past. I decided to get a haircut as it’s been a couple of months and I think they did a good job, can’t complain for £2.
I met a German couple who are on holiday and they are planning to go up the volcano tomorrow, but not at silly o’clock ie 4.15am as this is the time most trips leave to be able to catch the sunrise at the top of the active volcano that is Mount Sibayak.
As it’s overcast I was happy to join them for the entirely more reasonable start of 7.30am. We have a guide and a driver and we were soon bouncing along a road taking us to the drop off point for the climb. Bearing in mind the route weaves its way partway up the side of an active volcano, I suppose you wouldn’t expect the road to be great and it wasn’t. Huge potholes, the like of which you normally only see in the UK 😉 dotted the road, together with the rain and mud we slithered and slipped our way upwards. The German lady, a pharmacist, held on for dear life. At one point the guide hopped out to pack a pothole with a few stones as it was a bit deep even for the crazy drivers you have here.
This is actually a very well travelled road. We passed numerous motorbikes and other minivan’s with bench seats just like our own, all in varying states of falling to bits. Our door for example is held open or closed by a loose bolt dropped in a hole.
Arriving safely we hopped out to see a milling crowd, but they have all been to the top already and are heading back. So we are soon left alone with our guide and head on ever upwards.
The climb is steep and rocky in places, occasionally going through tunnels created by old trees that have bent over the years to join in the middle. Finally after an hour of moderately hard climbing and an altitude gain of about 400m we had our first view and smell of the volcano.
Sheets of super heated steam burst from the sides and bubbling pools of water are dotted around. You can cook in the water and people have judging by the odd discarded egg shells at the side. There are also many small fissures in the rocks where tendrils of steam and sulphur seep out. The last eruption was in 1881, but that was mostly ash. I believe the last full lava eruption was around 400 years ago.
There are people camped up here as well, especially at the weekend they come up here to hang out, some to make offerings to a god of some denomination. The main crater is filled in with earth and rocks and is flat. People have written their names in pebbles laid out all over the crater.
Because it was overcast we didn’t get a good view from the top over the now distant town of Berastagi, but at least we were able to complete the climb without being roasted by the sun.
Going down was a lot quicker, of course and before long we were heading for the hot springs of which there are quite a few. We went to Gintings, which was recommended and there are various different pool heats. The hottest was pretty hot, at least hot bath level. And there were people having sulphur face masks. Myself and the German hopped in, but his wife didn’t as the strict muslim rules meant she’d need to wear trousers etc in the water. A swimsuit wouldn’t cut it, unlike for the men. While chatting in the van, they casually mentioned the war, (WW2) twice! It was hard not to smile. (Fawlty Towers reference for anyone bemused by this comment). They were a nice and interesting couple and have travelled extensively.
Refreshed if not slight smelling of rotten egg, we headed back to the hotel, arriving back at about 2pm. On the way we passed a landslide, which apparently took out several houses. One house was still standing, but the roof was bent at a strange angle and sadly 10 people were killed. Nature here can be very unforgiving.
After all that climbing a cold Bintang beer was in order and I went to a nearby restaurant, again recommended, for some food. I had a beef soup, full of vegetables as well as bits of clove and peppercorns that burst in the mouth with a fiery taste. It was wonderful.
The evening was spent wandering around the night food market again, trying a few different things. There is also a fruit market and I bought some what they call snake fruit as the skin resembles snake skin. Inside the fruit are 3 segments, each with a stone in. The flesh is creamy and crunchy and I like them. I don’t recall seeing them in Thailand, but Sasipa said they are called rambutan. Here the official name is salak pondoh.
Having spent a couple of exciting days in Berastagi, I am off to Lake Toba today. I am sharing a car with a guy from Singapore, his name is Bunking or Ben for short. He is young and has just started a good job in finance. He has travelled quite a lot and seen Europe and the UK as well as the USA, so we had a lot to chat about. He went off on a sunrise hike to the top of the volcano this morning, so we didn’t set off until he got back, which was about 11am. Sharing the car halves the cost to only 325,000 (£16), amazing for a 4 hour drive. Our driver was friendly and we stopped on the way at Sisipo waterfall, time constraints and a quick glance at the many hundreds of steps to the bottom convinced both of us that it was eminently reasonable to just view it from the top.
I notice very few women wearing headscarves in the towns around here and that’s because it’s mostly Christian. There are numerous churches dotted around with crosses atop their spires. In fact Samosir island in lake Toba, where I am headed, is around 99% Christian. Apparently it was only due to the Malay muslim visitors from Malaysia complaining that there were no restaurants suitable for them (ie Halal) that a few have moved to the island to cater for them.
We stopped at a little cafe with a nice view and had some lunch. The owner let us pick a couple of oranges from the trees in their orange grove, which were nice for breakfast the next morning. The road is very twisty and we wove in and out of the traffic as usual spending nearly as much time on the wrong side of the road as the correct side! There are lots of monkeys sitting on the barriers at the side of the road, watching us as we drive by.
At one point we pass a giant metal goldfish, it used to be a restaurant until covid put an end to it, like so many other things. We are headed for the town of Parapat on the eastern edge of the lake, where we will catch the ferry to Tuktuk, which is on the eastern side of Samosir island.
Samosir island is the largest island in an island in the world and the 4th largest island in a lake and at 630 sq km it is almost as big as Singapore. To save you looking it up, the largest island in a lake is Manatoulin island, Lake Huron, Canada.
The ferries leave at half past the hour and we are getting close to the next departure time of 3.30pm. Despite me mentioning to our driver at 3.05pm, when he told us there was only 9 km to go, that we’d like to catch this ferry, he drove ridiculously slowly often at 20km an hour. In complete contrast to his previous 4 hours of driving! It seemed like he wanted us to miss the ferry. Both Ben and I were annoyed with him as he finally pulled in to the port at 3.30pm. Fortunately for us the ferry hadn’t yet left and as I waved at them to wait they beckoned us to hurry as they were just pulling up the gangplank. We paid the driver in a rush grabbed our things and ran. What his game was I don’t know, perhaps he hoped we’d leave something valuable behind, overpay or not have time to wait for change in our hurry. Either way as we are both seasoned travellers, we had everything packed away and ready and the money correctly counted, gripped in our hands, so his game if that’s what it was, came to nothing.
The ferry is great, while the water being a lake formed from a volcanic eruption 75,000 years ago, is like a mill pond and the music playing is right up my street. The super volcano that created this was apparently the most powerful eruption in human history and it is classed as active, but dormant. The boat boy comes to each passenger onboard and asks where you’re staying. He then tells you the price, which if you are anywhere on Tuktuk is 25000. The journey takes around 30 minutes and then amazingly the boat moors up to let passengers off at individual jetty’s, rather than a central port. Nearly all the hotels and guesthouses have their own jetty, so you get dropped at the front door of your accommodation. What service !
My room has a decent sized terrace with a view right over the lake, it’s fabulous. The room itself is large and reasonably equipped if not a little run down. There is no air con, but we are at around 900m altitude, so it’s ok.
After a long journey, a dip was in order so I walked down a few steps from my room and jumped in the lake for a swim. The water isn’t particularly clear today because of the rain, but it’s not too cold and it’s fresh water.
I’m keen to organise the next part of my trip to Bukittinggi, which is some 16 hours drive south and is in the southern hemisphere, as the equator runs through Sumatra. It’s not been really clear how I was going to get there as no one was entirely sure at my previous stops. There was talk of a bus, but nothing certain. I thought I’d have to get the public bus with two seven or eight hours stints, breaking the journey with an overnight stop in Padang Sidempuan. Fortunately there is a sign at reception in my guesthouse with details of the ‘luxury’ tourist bus direct to Bukittinggi leaving every day at around 4.30pm. I booked straight away for 400,000 rupiah about £20. Pretty good for a 16 hour ride. Now I can relax, knowing that’s taken care of.
There isn’t a great deal to do here, but I hired a motorbike from the guesthouse for a very cheap 100,000 for the day. I am heading around the top of the island down to the west hand side and the town of Pangaruran. The road tracks the coast and the views are constantly impressive. I stop for lunch in the town and then cross the bridge back onto Sumatra proper. From there I head to Efrata falls, it’s interesting, but nothing special. What I have noticed, which makes a pleasant change, is that everywhere I have visited so far in Sumatra, including national parks, museums and natural wonders, has no rip off the foreigner surcharge. The entry price is the same for everyone and not expensive at all.
Next up was the statue of Jesus and at 61m tall it is, I understand, the largest in the world, bigger even than Rio. It is completely white in colour and gazes out across Lake Toba like a sentinel. It is really quite impressive.
The history of the people here are is the Batik culture. The houses are very different to anything else I have ever seen and many people still live in these type of houses as evinced by the numerous ones I have seen around the island. They vary as to the state of repair, with some better than others. There are also magic mushrooms, which are particular to Samosir island, where they grow in abundance. It is perfectly legal here to sell and consume them, but only on the island. You must not take them on to the mainland!
Next day I took the motorbike out again, but this time headed south and then inland to the jungle
interior, fortunately there are non of the famed Sumatran tigers in this area, they’re found further south or are they? The jungle is dense, so who knows. Yesterday when I talked about heading south I was told the road was closed, however apparently you can take it if you are brave. There was a big landslide and most of the road is gone. There remains a narrow path that a motorbike can cross, but for anything bigger it’s impossible. Naturally I headed straight there 🙂 It is pretty narrow, I must say and I saw a few bikes turn back including a couple of tourists, but as your intrepid explorer I felt compelled to continue.
Once over the landslide, the road headed steeply upwards and I climbed towards the clouds. After a while the turning came up that would take me through the interior and in I went. The road is not bad, but fairly narrow and the jungle in long stretches comes right up to the side of the road. Occasionally I come across a small village and the children playing in the road shout with excitement to see me, holding out their hands for a high five as I pass. Once or twice I have to stop to let small herds of water buffalo go past, their herders nodding and smiling as they see me waiting.
After about an hour’s riding it starts to rain, I have my Thai hoodie with me, as the air is a bit cooler up here, but it’s not waterproof and I pull up under a tree thinking that I might turn around and go back to an abandoned shack I passed a minute a ago, for shelter. I was just turning round when a man passing on a motorbike waved at me to follow him. About 200m further on we stopped at a cabin and parked under the eaves. A family was busy eating their lunch and they waved us in to sit down and join them and escape the rain. We couldn’t communicate much, apart from the usual how are you where are you from etc, but it was a welcome respite from the downpour.
After about 15 minutes it stopped raining and both I and the man who brought me there went on our merry way. There began to be more villages as I have crossed a lot of the interior now and I soon arrived at lake Sidihoni. I thought I would come here, not because it is anything particularly special, although it is pretty, but because it is the largest lake in an island in a lake in an island in the world. I also wanted to drive through the interior too. There is a cafe at the lake and a few cheeky school children who say hello and ask for money. All the school children that I have seen in Indonesia are smartly turned out in their school uniforms. The cafe has the usual packets in strips of different drinks on display. I buy a hot coffee, which is, as usual, shockingly sweet and sit by the lake for a while.
I could have continued on to Pangaruran again and then driven around the coast, but I enjoyed the drive through the interior so I decide to go back the same way. Unfortunately it starts raining again and doesn’t let up, so this time I drive on through it and I am soon soaked to the skin. Finally as I start descending the other side, the rain lets up and I get moderately less soaked from the wind drying me as I ride.
None the less, I head back to the guesthouse for a change of clothes before heading out again. |The nearby town of Toba, houses a museum dedicated to Batik culture and there are also some old stone statues and ancient relics. There is a long line of touristy type souvenir and clothes shops that run from the main street up the hill and they are undercover. It’s rather like a tunnel with stalls on either side. It is quite busy, but I only see one other westerner.
I stop at a nice looking restaurant for lunch, All the tables and chairs are wooden and the design is rustic. I order some chicken, rice and sambal (sambal is the super spicy sauce both here and in Malaysia) and when it arrives there is also a little bowl of soup. The soup is fairly clear, but there are little swirls of bright green oil in it, like a split sauce, as well as other bits of greenery and chives. It’s fabulous and I wish I had the recipe. When I asked what it was he said, chicken soup, but maybe that’s the only English he knew, because it didn’t look or taste of chicken at all.
For my last evening in lake Toba, I went to a restaurant that specialises in Rendang. Often called the king of curries, this is a rich, spicy curry from western Sumatra and was traditonally made using water buffalo, although beef is now more usual. It’s full of complex flavours and spices, slowly cooked for hours and it is delicious, if a bit sweet for me.
Tomorrow I am off to Bukittinggi, but that will be in the next post.