Finishing Up in Sumatra

The bus trip from Bukittinggi to Lake Toba stretched a couple or so hours to a nice round 18. After the first 12 social order took a hit, and my fellow passengers' smokes came out adding to the memorability of the trip. However, it did end. To be followed by a quite pleasant 30 minute ferry ride across Southeast Asia's largest lake. I stayed at a hotel at Tuk-Tuk, a kind of past travellers' hangout hoping to recapture a more prosperous time. I wish them every luck. The people are very nice and the locale is special.

I did, however, have a bit of a bike problem at Toba. Not this one. I just managed to avoid mayhem with this young driver. I was not so fortunate when I was behind the controls.

Yes, I managed to dump myself not once but twice off this rented barely bike. Neither circumstance is worth retelling, though I do have a fair example of gravel rash on one arm (remembering that "wounds go sceptic in the tropics" I liberally applied antibiotic cream!) and some bruises on a leg that are purpling quite nicely.

There were greater dangers during my tour of the area around Toba. As I suggested earlier, the tourist trade is nothing like what it was, but the locals seem to be carrying on gamely. This includes running cultural events to thin crowds. The local ethic or tribal group, known at the Bataks, seem to practice a type of Christianity with a pretty heavy seasoning of local animist belief.

The cultural show I saw, with a young German couple (arriving on a much better driven and larger motor bike), involved nine scenes with a total of 15 performers, not counting the kind of creepy giant wooden puppets seen just behind the dancer in front, with a far creepier story involving a royal father unable to accept the death of a son and heir. The dangerous part was in scene seven, described in the helpful handout as, "the performers ask eager audience members to join them in a joyful dance ...". To be clearer, if necessary, there are no back rows in an audience of three.

The local Batak people go in for over the top funeral memorials for their notables. As best as I can tell, this is a continuing tradition.

When not falling off a motor bike or soaking up culture, I did some souvenir shopping. A sale in this tourist starved region could give rise to joyous reactions.
It may have been my poor negotiating. It may also have been the I'm sure non-binding chat about my marrying her 19 year old grand daughter, seen edging from the picture to Grandma's right.

Next stop was Berastagi, stopping along the way to learn the differences in domestic architure between the Batak of Toba and the Batak of Kato And if you didn't know before, now you know.

Berastagi, for a visitor, is about the cool air, the sulfur baths or the volcanoes. They have a very nice colcanoes in the area, including two that are active: Sibayak and Sinabung. I climbed Sibayak, with the help of a guide older but far fitter than me. Thank you Mr. Marisan. The way up was mainly a walk up a hill. At the top, volcanoish stuff. And some actually likeable grafitti, if that should be the word for it. The crater floor is covered in hard mud with lots of names spelled out in rocks.

The way down was just plain hard, through jungle on a steep, slippery path with 1003 steps (per Mr. Marisan), few of which are solidly in place. However a stop at one of the sulfur baths took some of the ache away. I also had the fairly common occurence of being a school project to distract me. A group of students, girls about three times as often as boys, will come up, ask to speak English for a while and then want a group photo. This apparently leads to some credit is school. And in moderation it is kind of fun. And yes, my hair is gently and I'm sure quite becomingly darker than some of you may recall.

I also checked out local markets, finding a good number of women chewing betel nut. It makes a large moist wad, often held in fore of the slightly open mouth. It stains lips (and chin) a bright red and teeth a not bright black. Presumably this further explains my interest in all things betel nut. Beyond seeing the market and women with frightening mouths, I saw some street theater. I generally don't get street theater. However, they were not mimes.

Yesterday afternoon and today I've been in Medan, the big city in Sumatra. I saw local sites and spent a long and strangely enjoyable time boxing up souvenirs to send home and working my way through the post office routine to get them mailed. Expect them in 3 months Mom and Dad! If they get home before I do, please just douse them with everything repellent and keep them away from the neighbors pets. Unless you do not like the pets.