Sumatra has been an interesting experience for me. After having left Sarah at the KL airport two weeks before arriving, and then touring my mom around Malaysia in comparative luxury, landing in Medan was a shock. For the first time in 3 months on the road, I was alone. I was the only westerner on the flight in, I was the only westerner in the airport, and apparently the only person in Medan that spoke english. While tourism is an industry in Sumatra, it seems it's spelled with a small 'i'. My phrase book got me to an ATM and to the bus station where my taxi driver excitedly pointed out the window saying 'ke Banda Aceh!' (to Banda Aceh- port town to Pulau Weh). I smiled, nodded and grabbed my bag without a clue where I was. Within the first few minutes stumbling through my phrasebook trying to purchase a bus ticket, I was struck by the country's eagerness to communicate. A young student on his way to Jakarta was able to decipher what I wanted with his one year of English study and bought me a ticket to Banda Aceh. He sat with my for the next 6 hours in the bus station teaching me Bahasa Indonesia (lit. Language Indonesia) in exchange for some help with English. I left that station with a mild grasp of the numbers one through one hundred, 'thank you', 'where is', 'do you speak English?' and 'help'.
It took 2 days before I met any other foreigners in Sumatra. You rarely hear much positive about Islam, but I think, ironically, that there is credit due in keeping Sumatra as unspoiled as it is. I can only assume that the same negative press that inspires mosque graffiti and racial slurs has alienated much of Indonesia from the backpacker community as no other reasonable explanation comes to mind. Absolutely beautiful areas are neglected by all save some apparently 'brave' souls, but i have yet to see or experience anything to make me think twice about my route.
On the ferry to Pulau Weh, and the village of Ibioh, I met a german (yes, again...) couple that had also recently arrived in Sumatra. We talked a bit on the boat about where we had been, where we were going, and decided to make our way to Ibioh together. The jetty presented us with 3 clearly distinct options for transport. A taxi for 50k each, the back of a motorbike for 50k each, or imitation Kawasaki ninja's with sidecars for 50k each. It was not a difficult choice. The sidecar race was an amazing introduction to one of the most beautiful islands I have visited yet. The 25km trip through overhanging jungle, mind bending hairpins and breathtaking viewpoints delivered us to a quiet rocky beach on the most northern tip of Sumatra. My first beach in Indonesia was quieter than the last beach in Thailand.
Daniel, Miri and I spent the days relaxing in hammocks, snorkeling the crystal waters or waiting at mama's single table restaurant for another dinner of sambal fish, chicken satay, or curried snapper. (Dinners were served communally at a single family table, with orders made by 4pm) I am sorry mom, but your peanut sauce may have met it's match. Don't feel bad though, it was made by an Indonesian grandmother, in Indonesia, with peanuts and chilies that were grown less than 50km away; and everyone knows that grandma's recipe is best. :-).
The amazingly warm people, and the outrageously warm weather made my third week away from Sarah almost bearable. The only thing that made it all ok was knowing that I would certainly have to come back here to show Sarah what she missed.
The lack of English, and white people for that matter, while a shock initially, has forced me to learn the language and interact with the local people on a level I've not yet experienced in Asia. It's allowed me to look past the 'scary' religion and see a startlingly free culture and engaging people. It's allowed me to order off the 'local's' menu and see people's faces light up when you try to make conversation in what is obviously a new language. The loneliness disappeared almost as fast as my daily evening meals at Mama's.
Sander
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