The World's Largest Volcanic Lake - Lake Toba, N. Sumatra

Before I left on this journey, I was watching a nature special with Darryl on the Sumatran Rhino and found myself entranced with Sumatra. I am the first to admit I have a horrible sense of geography, so when I found out that it was right next to Malaysia, I was sold.

When I landed at the airport in Medan, Sumatra, I realized it was the most "foreign" I had felt since I started this trip. Let's start with the obvious: I was the only white person on my flight, and saw maybe one or two white people throughout the entire airport.

Calls of "LADY!" and "MISS!" would follow me from the airport until now. I don't expect it to stop. Thailand was certainly not like this at all, probably because it is overrun with tourists, and I only got a small taste of this in Malaysia. Here people are very, very curious about me. And unlike the states where someone would gawk but not say anything, many will brazenly walk up and say "Hello Miss! Where you from?"

America, the promised land. They believe in the hype, and I can't blame them, because this is also the most impoverished country I've visited. Which is another reason for the attention - my money. And again, that's OK.

My least favorite question: "You travel alone?" ... because I can't answer honestly. It's just not smart.

The first full day here was a long, confusing day full of non-stop travel to reach my required stop: Lake Toba, the site of a massive supervolcanic eruption (and the largest known explosive eruption on earth in the last 25 million years, THANKS WIKIPEDIA). A resulting collapse from the eruption led to the formation of Lake Toba. My end destination was the island in the middle, and I hoped to take in its beauty and reflect on life. 

The local Batak people are predominantly Christian
and these buildings dot the side of the roads

It was about 9 hours of travel, which started in a rundown minibus with the locals, who again asked probing questions, and even wanted to take pictures with me. I agreed, but only on the condition that I could take a photo of them back.

A hot, smoke filled 5 hours later (you can smoke on these buses and ferries, and the driver chainsmoked the whole way), they dropped me off in Parapat, the town with the ferry to Samosir Island in the middle of Lake Toba. They didn't drop me off with any directions, so when another minibus full of schoolkids (some of them smoking) pulled up and said "Ferry!" I hopped in. I paid about 50 cents and was dropped off at a ferry terminal. 

Definitely the wrong ferry

I suspected it was the wrong terminal, as the "right" ferry came every 30 minutes, but as no one spoke English except to confirm that a ferry stopped there, I waited 2 hours. Once on the island, I hopped on the back of a scooter to my guest house, a 40 minute, very uncomfortable bumpy ride due with my 15kg pack on.

When I showed up at the guest house, I was greeted by a friendly employee, Jelita, who looked shocked at my time and mode of arrival. I had definitely taken the wrong ferry, and she told me that the right ferry would have dropped me off right at the guest house. 

But suddenly everything was OK, because she was so sweet and comforting. Her voice purred with her "r"s gently rolling every time she would say "No problem, my friend." I felt right at home.

I dropped my luggage in my room and sat down for dinner, only to witness the spectacle of an overweight middle aged Russian man arrive in the same way, but this time on the back of tiny Jelita's scooter. He was exclaiming "THIS IS IS JUST CRAZY" in a thick Russian accent, and I knew we had something to bond over. His name was Vladimir and he was a physics teacher. For real. We agreed to rent scooters together the next day and explore the island.

It turned out that Vladimir liked produce. Like really, really liked produce. So when we went to the market the next morning, he must have bought at least 8kg of fruits and vegetables, including tiny chilies that he eats raw. Our small trip proved tiresome to Vladimir, so I continued on my own to the Stone Chairs, which were used by the ancient empire for judgment and execution... and apparently cannibalism.

There are no words to describe the sheer variety and beauty of the island landscapes on Samosir, only pictures. I spent the next day just driving in one direction until I thought I might run out of gas, and was greeted by scenic vista after scenic vista. The photo opportunities were endless. Whenever I would drive by other tourists we would give each other a knowing smile: We were somewhere very special.

Unreal

Working the land

On one hill I was greeted by children who ran after me "HELLO! HELLO!" and then they chanted "Money, money, money, money, money!" - the only English they spoke.

Back to money, which kept running through my mind. On my "meager" budget, I was still wealthy in comparison and these people had so little.

Jelita and I had become fairly well acquainted over the past few days, so I asked her that afternoon (my last day) to take me to her shop, as well as help me find some authentic wood carvings, which the Batak people of the island are known for. She drove me to her store and showed me some woven textiles made on the island. I selected a few items as "maybes" and we headed to the woodshop.

As she drove we chatted, and remembering that earlier she had asked me if my parents were "around," I asked the same of her. She let me know her father had passed, and that her mom was very sick in Medan. As she is a single mother trying to put her son through school (she never finished school) and makes very little money at the guest house, she admitted she couldn't afford to go see her mother. She was able to take the time off, but with the cost of transporting her son to school, it wasn't possible.

I asked how much the trip would cost and she said about 300,00 Indian Rupiah (IDR), or $25 USD. I felt myself tearing up. Yes, it's a lot of money for a local, but I couldn't imagine $25 standing between me and my family if they were sick. And this is a reality for many, many Indonesians, and well, anyone in poverty in the world.

Jelita then took me to her family's carving shop and I bought a few fantastic pieces to send back home with Darryl. When we got back to the guest house she asked if I wanted to buy the textiles we had discussed. I handed her the 300,000 IDR, but knowing she wasn't making much of a profit off what she sold, I told her I didn't want to buy anything. I just wanted her to go see her mom.

I spent the rest of the evening grappling to wrap myself around this reality. We all know poverty exists in the world, have maybe even suffered through it, and I have seen it throughout my travels - especially noticed by me in the form of animals suffering. But you just never know when something is going to hit you hard, and this did. 

The next day I was supposed to take a bus to Bukit Lawang up north, the place that National Geographic dreams are made of, to see orangutans. The guest house had told me it was a 4-5 hour drive, but once I go to the pier they gave me a more realistic 8-10 hours. Knowing I had a busy week ahead of me, I just couldn't fathom that much time in a car. I'm glad I just went back to Medan, because it took 6 hours and I was OVER IT by the end.

So now I have a big reason to come back to Sumatra. Hopefully it will be on a big trekking expedition in a few years with Darryl, when we can spend extra time really getting lost in the jungle, seeking out the elusive and rare Sumatran Rhino.

Next stop.... Java!

-Erin