Teaching English and a Supervolcanic Lake Holiday – Bukit Lawang to Lake Toba

The drive to Bukit Lawang was busy and tiring. Getting out of Medan meant negotiating chaotic traffic. The rules of the road seemed to have been almost completely abandoned, and the result was that we had to fight for our place in the food chain. Thankfully we are used to crazy driving styles by this stage of our travels, so it was not nearly as alarming as it would have been if we had come straight from home. The road was mostly very good, much better than we expected. However, there were also plenty of bad sections, which were made more interesting by the fact that oncoming lorries and mini-buses kept swerving into our lane to avoid them, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that we happened to be in the way.

We made it to Bukit Lawang in surprisingly good time. Whilst searching for Couchsurfing hosts in Medan, we had stumbled across another lady's profile. She was a local woman (Yoan), who had set up free after-school classes for children from the village. She is currently kept pretty busy by a five month old baby, but was on the look out for volunteers to come and run a couple of classes. As a bonus, she was able to offer free (but very basic) accommodation in a house in a nearby village. Thinking it sounded like an interesting opportunity, we were keen to give it a go and to try out our skills as teachers.

We were met at the bus station by Yoan's daughter, and followed her back to the volunteer house. We were keen to meet Yoan, so just quickly dropped off our things and made our way to her home, in a smaller village just down the road. There were no roads between the houses there, and negotiating the narrow track between rice paddies full of water on our bike was a nice little challenge for Oli. Yoan fed us a tasty lunch, and we chatted for a while about what Oli and I had planned for the next day. It turned out that we would be managing the class on our own, so we hoped it would go okay.

From here we went back to spend the evening in the volunteer house. We took ourselves out on a mission to find fruit and water, hoping to manage to buy one of the mega 19 litre bottles that we had seen locals carrying about. We found the shop without too much trouble, but the owners seemed to struggle to comprehend what we wanted. We kept telling them we were here for three days, and eventually they got that we could actually get through that much water. When Oli asked the price the guy said $1, so Oli asked what that was in rupiah. The guy then answered that the price was 3500 rupiah (about $0.30). I think maybe he wanted to rip us off, but couldn't quite bring himself to go through with it. We staggered back home under the weight, then sat on our porch entertaining the local kids with the presence of the bike.

It was starting to approach dinner time. We couldn't be bothered to walk to Bukit Lawang, so decided to just eat close to the village. We ended up in what was very much a family run joint, and were kept entertained by the owner's four year old daughter, who was keen to show us that she knew her numbers in English (well, up to four anyway). The food was tasty but probably the most spicy thing I have ever eaten. I have now fully learned my lesson never to ask for something to be spicy by Indonesian standards. I don't want to disturb anyone, so I will just say my system was not happy about this later on. Not. At. All.

We settled in to the village house for the evening. It was insanely hot, and we had no fan, so we left the door ajar. Every now and then one of the local children would pop their heads in, shout hello, then giggle, which was rather sweet. As we were sat however, we suddenly became aware that we had a rodent house-mate. It was not a particularly large rat, but it was definitely not bothered by our  presence. It strolled down along the wall, before walking into the room in which we were going to be sleeping. Now call us wimps, but this was a little too much for us, especially as we weren't sure if it had friends. We ended up setting up the inner layer of our tent, and camping inside.

We hadn't slept brilliantly, so decided in the morning to move to Bukit Lawang. We had wanted to see the place anyway, and thought it would probably be more convenient in terms of places to eat etc. We were sorry to leave the house, as our neighbours were so friendly and the atmosphere of the village was lovely, but we knew we would be better rested in Bukit Lawang. We ended up finding a nice room for £5, the only down sides being the cold-water bathroom and the fact that we had to cross a rather precarious looking rope bridge to get there. All things considered though we didn't mind the cold shower, and Oli managed to negotiate the bridge surprisingly easily.

By the time we had moved house and had lunch it was time to get to class. We had some activities planned, but without knowing what abilities we would be teaching it was hard to have a solid plan. In the event the class actually went really well. Even though they were shy they were keen to try. We finished off by giving them cards with English words on, which they then had to draw on the board for the others to guess, kind of like Pictionary but without the time limit. After class, three of the kids took Oli and I for a walk around their village. The scenery was stunning, dramatically set off by the dark storm clouds brewing over the hills. We were slightly worried that we were going to get a drenching, but thankfully made it home before the weather broke.

The rain must have been coming down for quite some time in the hills. By the time we both emerged from our showers the river had risen considerably. It had transformed from a glassy snake of dark green to a raging torrent of muddy brown. Tree trunks and huge branches crashed along in the flow, smashing against the rocks. As both our room and our bike were on the river bank, we sat and watched the unstoppable rise with a sort of horrified fascination. In less than an hour the river had risen by over a metre, and the rain was showing no sign of stopping. Our fears were not assuaged by the knowledge that 2003 had seen a flash flood in the village, with a wall of water 20m high crashing down from the mountains. Over 200 people lost their lives in the disaster, and it took over eight months to rebuild. Thankfully on this occasion, the water did eventually start to recede slightly, and we deemed it safe to leave our post and go for dinner.

After a hearty meal and a very good night's sleep, we awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. The river had gone down considerably during the night, and created a completely different scene. We had breakfast out, accompanying our food with an excellent fresh coffee. It is made similar to Turkish style in this part of the world, and seems to be rather habit-forming. Whilst we ate we chatted with a local guy who works as a trekking guide. Bukit Lawang seems to have a lot of long haired hippies, and he definitely fell into this category. He was a nice guy, and told us his name is Dedi Black, apparently to distinguish himself from the other Dedi in the village, Dedi Cool. What a guy.

We kept it relaxed in the morning, sitting outside and watching the river go by. We ate a big lunch, then caught a bechak (tuk-tuk) down to the school. The previous day had been a holiday for the election, so the kids hadn't had to go to school. This day however our class followed their full school session, and they were definitely more tired and less inclined to concentrate. Thankfully my time with the Guides in Manchester served me well, so it wasn't too hard to keep them in line. They were good kids though, and we all still enjoyed the class. We were really pleased to have had this experience, but have to say that teachers deserve medals. Our classes were only two hours a day, but were still exhausting!

Although it was hot, Oli and I very much enjoyed our walk back to Bukit Lawang. We had showers and got ready to go out for food, but our departure was delayed by the sudden arrival of very heavy rain. We were convinced it wouldn't last long, but sadly we were not correct. Not wanting the luggage that we had left on the bike to get soaked, we ran around in the downpour and maneuvered it under our porch. We were glad we had, as the rain continued on and off through the night.

We got up early, packed up, evicted a little frog that had somehow found its way into our room, and got ready to go. Whilst fidgeting about we realised that our tail-light had blown. To be honest in Indonesia loads of people don't have working brake lights, but we thought we should probably try to replace it as soon as possible. Journey well under way, we were pleasantly surprised to stumble across an actual Honda service centre in the middle of nowhere. Amazingly they had the bulb we needed, and we were ready to go in less than five minutes. We definitely hadn't expected to find a replacement so easily, let alone a genuine Honda part in rural Sumatra.

The drive to Beristagi was an eventful one to say the least. We were cruising along on an open section of road, easily doing 50 mph, when unexpectedly an elderly man on a scooter just pulled out. He proceeded to tootle over the road in a slow arc. With the speed we were travelling and the direction he was riding, it was impossible to just change our path to avoid him. Oli had no choice but to slam on the brakes, and despite the fact that we were hammering the horn he didn't even flinch. We avoided him by mere inches, then pulled up alongside him. I shouted to him to be careful, repeating it twice. He squinted at me and gave us a look as if to say “What's your problem?” before casually turning off down a side road. He must have been pretty blind and deaf, and definitely falls into the category of road user that Oli and I have termed “Danger Grandads”. It was the scariest thing to happen to us on the road for a good while, and it was frankly a miracle that he wasn't hurt.

Luckily we didn't encounter any more kamikaze pensioners, and carried on our way. Unfortunately for us, there is no bypass road for Medan, so it was necessary to plunge back into it to get through to Beristagi. We have seen plenty of traffic on our trip, but never anything like this. It was utter chaos, even worse than what we saw in New Delhi. At one point an ambulance was trying to get through, somehow opening up a lane on the opposite side of the road. Ever keen to fit in, we joined the horde of cars and bikes taking advantage of this and followed in its wake. After a short while it was necessary to dive back in, and we found ourselves sandwiched between a convoy of military lorries. A few of the soldiers waved at us, and we all did our best to negotiate the free-for-all. At one point we saw a car just drive into the back of a scooter, squishing it length-ways between two cars (nobody was hurt thankfully). It should have been hell but we strangely enjoyed it. Still, we were very glad to turn off after a few kilometres.

We made good progress for a few minutes, before once again finding ourselves in a chaotic tail-back. We wove our way through as best as we could on our fat bike, wilting under the intense sun. The traffic was so terrible that we assumed there must have been a bad accident up ahead, so were a little apprehensive of what we might see. When we did eventually get to the source of the slow down we couldn't believe it. The problem turned out to be nothing more than a small section of roadworks, and everyone was struggling to negotiate a rough stretch of road that lasted for less than three feet. The impact of this was honestly insane. Happily though, once we had passed it the traffic almost totally cleared.

By this time we were hot and tired, in need of a little break. We stopped at an Indomaret (Indonesia's equivalent of Thailand's 7-11) and stocked up on cold water, as well as cheekily abusing their air-con. Refreshed, we got back on the road, quickly coming upon a queue of traffic at a red light. Here, a gang of ladies selling water descended on us. We pointed at the water on our bike, saying no thank-you. At this, one lady just stuck her hand out and said “Money”. Oli said sorry, which did not go down well. She started shouting at us in Indonesian, presumably something abusive. Not sure how to react, Oli just kept saying thank-you to her, which made the other ladies shriek with laughter. It was a really unpleasant situation, and very much an anomaly for us so far in Indonesia. I know we have to appreciate the fact that we are relatively rich, but having somebody demand money from us whilst ignoring the driver of a car worth five times the value of our bike just behind us was not nice.

Mercifully the rest of the drive was relatively plain sailing. We arrived in Beristagi and asked at a couple of guest-houses. Both were quite crap but cheap, so we decided to go for a bit of a drive and see what else we could find. We ended up winding our way up a minor road, every now and then getting glimpses of Sibayak volcano, quietly smoking away. We got a bit carried away, and thought we might try and ride closer to it. However, our plan was quickly ended when we rounded a corner and saw that the road suddenly became thick mud. We didn't really fancy this, so turned around and went on our way.

Rather enjoying the scenery, we decided to go for a little drive. We thought we were doing a loop, but accidentally took a wrong turn. We didn't realise this mistake, so when we were stopped by a couple of officials asking for an entrance fee we argued, saying we were just on our way home. Fortunately they were decent guys, and sensing our obvious confusion, just waved us through with no payment. Just a little further down the road we found ourselves at a viewpoint offering spectacular views of Sinabung. This volcano was dormant until 2010, and the most recent eruption was only two months ago. It was a deadly explosion, with several people losing their lives. Standing on the hillside watching gently billowing smoke, it was difficult to imagine the destruction that it had caused, and the danger it threatened.

After stopping to take in the view, we continued on our way. It was then that we realised that actually we had not been in the right regarding the entrance fee, as when the road had branched off we had taken the wrong option. As mistakes go it had been a fortunate one, and through our blissful ignorance we had even avoided payment. We ended up back in Beristagi, taking the cheaper of the two rooms we had seen. It may have been a bit crummy and had a few teeny cockroaches* that made an appearance at night, but it was £3.70, which really excuses a lot.

From Beristagi, our next destination was to be the beautiful Lake Toba. We decided to take the more minor route, which turned out to be a good shout. The road was actually very good for most of the drive, only disintegrating for the last 40km or so. I definitely prefer pot-holes to traffic, so was happy as Larry. The last part of the drive took us through dense, hilly forest, which occasionally opened up to provide tantalising views of the lake below. Somewhat strangely, we also saw this building in the shape of a giant fish, nestled amongst the coffee plants. Not exactly in keeping with the setting, but diverting nonetheless.

We weren't actually sure where the vehicle ferry to the island in the middle of the lake (Samosir) left from. Fortuitously our random guesses took us almost straight there, with just a short detour through a busy market. We managed to arrive at the boat just before departure time, and for the grand fee of 90p, both of us and the bike were on board. The crossing itself was painless, although we ended up being the main entertainment for a bus full of aunties, one of whom insisted that we take a photograph together.

We had ear-marked a couple of potential places to stay in and around the town of Tuk-Tuk. As it is currently the low season, the main area actually felt a little like a ghost town. We passed a few of the places we had researched, thinking they looked alright, but nothing particularly special. Whilst I am sure we would have been happy staying anywhere, we ended up being so pleased that we pushed on. A few kilometres out of Tuk-Tuk were the lovely Mas Cottages. The location was picture perfect, with our room looking out directly over the lake. For £7 we had a beautiful room, with hot water and a proper flush. It's amazing how quickly we had become used to cold water and a bucket, so it felt like absolute luxury.

Before settling in for a few days, we decided to drive back to Tuk-Tuk to buy fruit and attempt getting another massive water. We found fruit quite easily, then moved on to the water place. The people running it were super excited about our presence, looking thrilled, and insisting on taking our photo. We asked if we could buy a water, and enquired about the price. They paused for a moment and then wrote down 50,000 rupiah. Considering that the same thing cost us 3500 in Bukit Lawang we were shocked, so queried it. Maybe something got lost in translation, but this seemed very greedy to us, so we left. When we got back we realised that we had added up the fruit prices wrong as well, and that the lady there had also overcharged us. It wasn't by much, but it's not the point. We can't understand why people would do this just to make a little quick money, as there is no way they will then get somebody's repeat business.

Thankfully the rest of our Lake Toba experience has been far more relaxing. The lake was formed by a super-volcanic eruption, the largest known explosion on earth in the past 25 million years. The natural setting is hard to beat, with hills rising steeply from the water's edge on all sides. The lake is surprisingly changeable. At sunrise it is glassy smooth, with barely a ripple to disturb the surface. As the afternoon rains brew and the wind starts to blow, the previously still water is whipped up into choppy waves, transforming it entirely. We loved that one place could have such different characters, and spent plenty of time just sat watching it from our balcony. The wildlife here is impressive, with huge eagles swooping through the sky and countless tiny fish swimming through the clear waters.

As a plus, the food where we are staying is awesome. We both love the glass cabinet canteen style Indonesian food, but it is nice to have something a little different. Avacado is plentiful in this part of the world, and has been put to some genius uses.  Our hotel offers a delicious guacamole taco, but our favourite thing we have found in Sumatra is an avacado and chocolate drink. Why this combination isn't popular world wide I cannot say, but I can whole heartedly recommend it. We have agreed to limit ourselves to a maximum of one per day, as we will definitely get chubby otherwise.

We have spent the past two days relaxing by the lake side, chatting with other travellers, and eating lots of good food. We have been trying to re-train our body clocks for early rising in Indonesia, which has meant that we have been up just after sunrise for both of the mornings that we have been here. In our opinion, this is when the lake is at its most beautiful and atmospheric. Going for a quick refreshing dip first thing in the morning is something we will not easily forget, and we find ourselves wishing that we could stay longer. However, Indonesia is huge and our visas are only 60 days, so we have no choice but to press on. We have some long mile crunching days ahead of us...

*N.B. In light of the wildlife we have experienced in our accommodation since leaving home, we decided to make a list of what we can and cannot accept. All these are ones that we have shared time and space with:

Rats: No, would rather camp in the rain.

Mice: One is fine for below £5 (to be fair, not 100% sure if we definitely had mice yet)

Frogs: Okay.

Geckos: Yes please! (They eat the mosquitoes).

Centipedes: Just no.

Cockroaches: If the price is right, say under £5, then a few are okay.

Beetles: Come on in!

Ants: We like ants, except when they try to party in the bike helmets

The Onion Boat - Penang to Medan

In the end we loaded the bike a day later than originally planned. The Onion Boat had experienced engine troubles when setting off from Indonesia, so got to Penang behind schedule. We met Mr. Lim at his office in Georgetown, and followed him to the ro-ro ferry. We drew a few stares as we parked up our bike, as compared with the average motorcycle in Malaysia it looks like it accidentally overdosed on growth hormones. We were a little afraid that we would knock over a scooter rider in the mêlée of disembarking, but (perhaps unsurprisingly) everyone gave us a wide berth.

With Mr. Lim to help us with the paperwork it was a breeze, and the bureaucracy part was over and done with in about 15 minutes. Considering that five minutes of this was the customs official talking to Oli about Manchester, discussing the fact that he shares a name with a certain German goalie, and inspecting some random razors that were lying on his desk, it was pretty damn speedy! If only all customs experiences could be so painless.

From the customs office it was a short ride over to the boat itself. Its main cargo consists of vegetables, supplemented by the occasional overlander motorbike. Unloading was underway, but we were told that it would be at least another two hours, so we might as well go and hang out in the canteen. All too willing to escape the sauna like heat of the outdoors we readily agreed. Sitting in a fan cooled room sipping ice milo and lemon tea was far preferable to our usual shipping experience of running between port-a-cabins, so for the moment we were certainly not complaining.

Sadly for us, the process of unloading was brought to a grinding halt by heavy rain. Mr. Lim appeared and told us it would be at least one hour longer. We consoled ourselves with an early lunch, and were happy to be joined by two Australian bikers. They are doing the same journey as us, but in reverse, and were waiting for their bikes to be liberated from amongst the vegetables. They were lovely guys, and we made sure to take the opportunity to quiz them about their Indonesia experience. After a while they could no longer take the suspense of waiting for their bikes, so went to wait by the boat instead.

The hours slowly ticked by. We tried to amuse ourselves by taking photographs of the port, but there wasn't too much to see other than the odd stray dog. The heat was exhausting, and we were starting to feel worn out. Eventually we also tired of hanging around, and decided to make our way over to the boat instead. On closer inspection the vessel didn't appear too seaworthy, and was absolutely dwarfed by the enormous ship moored behind it. Still, it has made this journey on a weekly basis for years, so we were sure that it was tougher than it looked.

Finally, six hours after arriving at the port it was time to load our bike. Whilst they are used to transporting overlanders, our enormous beast of a bike presented a bit of a challenge. The boat has no special provision for vehicles, so any cargo (our bike included) has to be lifted on by a crane. The standard support gear was too wide for our lifting points, so there was a lot of head-scratching as Oli and the guys tried to work out a way to lift the bike without ripping out all the wiring and cables. Eventually they cracked it, and it was ready to fly. The bike is pretty much our only posession of value these days, so watching it soar several metres in the air and almost bash the side of the boat was a rather exciting experience. Thankfully it made it safely on board, and there was nothing left to do but hope it made it safely to Indonesia.

Although the ferry was only a kilometre away, we gained an appreciation of why everyone drives in Penang. It was insanely hot, and we were absolutely pouring by the time we got there. Feeling a little grim, we grabbed some ice-cold drinks from the shop, and wandered onto the boat. The foot passenger area of the ferry was surprisingly well equipped. Although it takes a maximum of fifteen minutes to cross from Butterworth to Georgetown, there was a small hawker stall selling food and drinks, as well as ample toilet facilities. The views across the water were an added bonus, and we ended up quite enjoying the ride.

The next day we were a little stranded without our bike. However, this was absolutely fine by us, as we were exhausted and very much looking forward to a day of doing not much. We washed pretty much all of our clothes, watched a film and ate a big home cooked lunch. It had been a good day. We rounded it off with a nasi kandar dinner of rotis and iced tea. The food was one the highlights of Malaysia for us, so we were keen to take advantage of it before leaving for new pastures.

After a chilled out Saturday (involving a pleasant drive to a quiet beach), we awoke on Sunday to our last morning in Penang. Kean's uncle was up from Singapore for the weekend, so he joined us for our final Malaysian breakfast. On the menu was something called 'roti-tissue', basically the regular amount of roti dough, but stretched out to staggering proportions. Although I can happily put away three normal rotis, I couldn't manage a whole one of these. Thankfully Kean and his uncle were on board to help out.

All too soon we were on our way to the airport. We had really become attached to Penang. Staying with Kean had made it a brilliant experience for us, and it had really started to feel like home. Despite being seriously excited for Indonesia, we were really going to miss Penang. It may suffer from a lack of public transport and some pretty heavy traffic, but it is a brilliant place with an interesting mix of cultures, a vibrant history and endless tasty food. We will definitely be back.

The flight itself was over almost before it had taken off. The distance is so short that we were in the air for less than an hour, and with the time difference our arrival time in Medan was ten minutes earlier than the departure from Penang. As we already had our visas we didn't have to faff with filling out forms on arrival, and went straight to immigration. The official at Oli's counter didn't seem too bothered, and just stamped his passport straight away and handed it back. However, the guy at my counter seemed to take an immediate dislike to me, asking lots of questions about where we were going, when we were leaving etc. I answered as best I could, and had my fingerprints electronically taken before I could leave. I have no idea why he was so suspicious, but seeing as they let me in anyway then never mind.

Rather than staying in a hotel, we had decided to Couchsurf in Medan. Pre-armed with public transport know-how from our host, we fended off the many offers of taxis and headed for the bus stop. Not having a clue how to recognise where we were going, we asked the driver to tell us when we got to our stop. For some reason the other passengers found this hilarious, but luckily one of them promised to tell us at the appropriate point. The rest of the journey passed without incident, and after battling through the heavy city traffic, we found ourselves outside the department store that was to be our disembarkation point.

Inside was a very pleasant form of chaos. Music blasted from the live band outside, throngs of people sifted through clothing, and there were signs presumably denoting bargains everywhere. A gaggle of teenage girls passed us, looking at Oli with blushes, whispers and giggles. We managed to find the point where we were meeting our host without too much trouble. Oli decided to go for a tactical toilet break at this point, causing two shop assistants to clutch each other in a fit of giggles when he asked for directions. Like a true Englishman he felt rather awkward and a little afraid of the attention. Luckily we were soon rescued by our host, Diah, who kindly picked us up and drove us back to her house.

Diah and her husband Yudi turned out to be a fantastic couple. We got on brilliantly, and went out for dinner later that evening. One of the reasons we love to Couchsurf sometimes is that we can learn so much more about the country we are staying in. We talked a lot about life in both Indonesia and England, and Oli and I felt really glad that we had ended up with such great hosts.

The next day was to be devoted to getting our beloved machine out of Belawan port, about 30km from Medan. Initially we had been planning to get a taxi there, but Diah and Yudi came to our rescue, giving us good instructions on how to get there via public transport. In lieu of a government run transport network, Medan has a lot of mini-buses, very similar to the Turkish dolmuş system. We managed to flag the relevant one down, but on going to climb in we realised it was choc full of passengers. We were fully prepared to sit on the floor, but one very kind man immediately jumped out, waving for us to take his seat. We tried to insist that he kept it, but it was too late. Off he went, and we very much hoped that he was close to his stop. The journey was hot and sweaty, but not unpleasant. At one point an elderly man clambered on, lighting a huge roll-up and filling the vehicle with clouds of thick smoke. Sometimes I love to imagine people's reactions if things we see travelling happened back home, and this was definitely such a situation!

Thankfully Oli had thought to mark the coordinates of the shipping office on the GPS the night before, so finding it amongst the warren of streets was easy. We got there at 10:00 a.m. as agreed with the shipping agent, waving goodbye to the gang of school kids that we had accumulated on the walk. Times are obviously flexible here, as the agent (Adnan) eventually wandered in twenty minutes later. Unfortunately I couldn't accompany Oli to the port, so I was left in the office whilst they went without me. Three and a half hours passed surprisingly quickly. I had a few chats with various people that popped into the office, including a random friendly police officer who appeared to have nothing to do with shipping, but hung around for two hours doing not much at all.  At this point I will hand over to Oli for a few paragraphs, for his account of the port:

“I hopped on Adnan's Honda Blade scooter which had the baddest of all bad-boy exhausts. The scooter bottomed out at every pothole and hurt my bottom as there were a lot of them. No worries though, the exhaust was so loud that no one heard my screams. First stop was the photocopy place just outside the port. After the usual photocopies of everything, the first customs office stop consisted of a long two hour wait. However it was air conditioned and I killed time by playing Desert Rally and Snake on my old Nokia, alas could not beat any of my previous high-scores. In the meantime Adnan got bored and went out for a very very long fag brake, although I think he went for lunch.. sneaky Adnan. He turned up just on time as the paperwork was ready and gave me a little talk about how dangerous it is to smuggle drugs in to Indonesia. He told me with a knowing look that customs may search my bike. Apparently heroin is very bad, but marijuana not so much. Drugs chat over, we were back on the Blade. We dropped one piece of paper in an office with a yowling cat outside its door. This office was was full of customs bods who evidently don't care much for cats.

After this we went for the “customs inspection” which consisted of a young guy in a Liverpool footie top asking me what I was going to do in Indonesia and how many cc the bike was. Back on the bad-boy Blade we drove a good few kilometres to another part of the port where I got given coffee, presumably Adnan heard my screams. Here I waited for another customs officer in an actual uniform to “check” the engine and chassis numbers. Instead he just copied them from the Carnet and wrote them into another form...Good checking sir! Also, this office was made from actual containers, it was two storey, and as a bonus you had to take your shoes off to get in. Thinking about it maybe it was a customs temple.

Following this we drove to the back of beyond of the port to a small office, where the “big boss” dwelled. This office had given up and had actually let a cat inside, probably to stop it from yowling like the other one. The “big boss” was “the one”, the “man of power” it was “He” who had the carnet stamping authority, but alas his Highness was having lunch. His middle aged lady secretary told me I looked handsome and gave me some sweets. I am starting to feel like a celebrity already. Then she gave me some more sweets to take to Charli. She also recommended us some islands to visit, and as a bonus did a terrorist impression, with a full automatic gun mime when I said we might be going to Bandar Aceh after Medan and told us not to go...

Whilst aunty secretary was shooting me with the automatic, the big boss finished his lunch. He actually turned out to be a nice guy, but did the typical customs “I have the power” thing of hovering over the signature area of the carnet with his pen, moving it away at the last moment, and kept asking me questions. At least he wasn't inspecting razors whilst I talked, like the guy in Penang. The questions were the typical where we are going in Indonesia, Manchester United, how long we've been on the road etc etc... He did eventually sign it and stamp it...

After the big boss was satisfied we drove another few kilometres to the warehouse where the bike was stored and here we waited for a man on a scooter to come and open up the big iron gate. Finally after just under four hours of nonsense, I was reunited with December. I gave her a hug, started her up and followed the Blade to the office to pick up Charli and ride in to the sunset.”

Paperwork hoops all dutifully jumped through, Oli picked me up at the office, and we got on our way. For some reason the guys gathered there kept warning us to be careful. This was said with a very serious expression by everyone, which was not exactly encouraging. Luckily we are not easily put off, and cheerily waved goodbye as we set off down the road. We didn't get too far before realising we needed to put on our knee guards. As we were stopped a group of men talked to us about where we were from, what we were doing etc., before again warning us to be careful.

It turns out that the warnings were well founded. Whilst in Cambodia, Oli and I had often wondered aloud how dangerous the driving would be if the volume of traffic was higher. Well, Indonesia has the answer to that particular question. The driving style for most road users seems to be erratic and highly unpredictable. In theory you drive on the left here, but in practice this is loosely interpreted by a rather sizable minority of road users. At first I was slightly nervous, but quickly realised I was going to have to adopt my India strategy of just not paying attention to the traffic and focusing on something else. This helped me to relax, and soon I was loving it. Crazy driving styles can actually be immense fun. It usually looks worse than it is, and the answer is almost always to just get stuck in.

We stopped for a late lunch at a random road side restaurant. Diah and Yudi had furnished us with the appropriate phrases for explaining my vegetarianism, so Oli went to try them out. They did kind of understand us, but we were very grateful for the help of a random student who was happy to translate. We ended up chatting to him and his friends whilst we ate our meal. They were  pretty tickled by the size of the bike, all taking it in turns to sit on it or stand with it for photos. Eventually we said goodbye to our new friends, and continued along our way through the hectic traffic.

By the time we arrived back home we were hot and exhausted, so were all too happy to sit in front of the fan and drink water whilst chatting with Diah. Monday night happened to be the evening that Diah does yoga, so she asked me if I fancied trying it out. Keen to give it a go I readily agreed. It turns out that yoga is surprisingly hard work. If done regularly I can really appreciate how it would build strength and flexibility. I had imagined it to be a lot of relaxing breathing exercises. These are an important part of it, but it is also incredibly physical, and on some poses my pathetically out-of-shape muscles felt like they were screeching with pain. As it was my first go I was pretty rubbish, but  I still enjoyed it immensely.

After this activity I felt like we had earned a good dinner. We ended up going to a rather classy cafe with excellent food and coffee. We got caught up in conversation, and before we knew it we were politely being asked to leave as the place was closing. Time does indeed fly when you are having fun. We made our way home, and Oli and I collapsed into bed, shattered after a very busy day.

As we didn't have far to go the next morning there was no need to rush. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and had a little photo-shoot with the bike. Medan had been a great start to Sumatra for us. After just two days we were already big fans of this country, and we were very excited for what might lie ahead.

P.S. This post is now a little out of date, posted late due to lack of Internet. More updates to follow as we manage to upload photos.

Highlands and Islands - Back to Penang

Due to the tides, the first boat leaving Tioman wasn't listed until 1 p.m., meaning there was no need to rush. We enjoyed the luxury of a very slow start, sitting on our porch with the cat until it was time to wander down to the jetty. Knowing that the Tioman ferry times can vary from the schedule, we had double checked at the info counter the day before. The lady there had confirmed that the ferry was indeed at one, but we had seen on a board at a restaurant that it was listed at 12:30. We decided to play it safe and get there early.

It was a good thing we did. When we arrived at the jetty it was already busy, and the boat was already waiting. After hanging around for a short while everyone was invited to pile on. Oli and I settled into our seats, wondering whether it was indeed going to set off at the earlier time. Surprisingly it did actually leave at 12:30, leaving us feeling very smug that we had spotted that sign!

It was an easy crossing, and the time passed quickly. As we approached the Mersing jetty, the majority of the people on board leapt out of their seats and started twitchily trying to barge their way towards the door. Usually Oli and I would have stayed well out of this scrum and waited until the end, but unfortunately Oli's bladder was in urgent need of an emptying. With this in mind, Oli was perturbed to find that all those people that had been in such a desperate hurry to get off the boat  were in no rush once they had actually disembarked. They proceeded to wander along at a dithering snail pace, frequently pausing and blocking the narrow walkway entirely. Thankfully though we managed to negotiate the crowds, and disaster was averted. Phew.

The car park attendant was not in the least bothered about collecting the fee for the additional two nights we had stayed, which was nice of him. After a quick pit stop and a nasi kandar lunch we were ready to get back on the road. It was a four hour drive to Malacca, and we were keen to get there before dark. Biking in the dark is never a good thing, and the golden rule of never driving at night is one that we try our best to rigorously stick to.

Luckily the traffic was okay for most of the journey, but the lack of highway for half of it created its own interesting dramas. Whilst overtaking a lorry, we were shocked to see it suddenly swing out into the road (obviously without a glance in the wing mirror) without warning, almost taking us out. It was the scariest thing to happen to us on the road for a long time, and Oli was furious with the driver. They did offer a wave of apology, but we still decided to pull over to the side of the road for a breather and to calm down. Considering how developed Malaysia is as a country, the driving here is shocking. We're not talking Laos or Cambodia bad, but there is a lot more traffic on the road and it moves a lot faster, making people's mistakes or carelessness a lot scarier. Still, we suppose it is good practice for when we arrive in Indonesia in a few days.

After negotiating more drivers with wing mirror phobias as we entered Malacca, we eventually arrived back at our hostel. It was nice to see the owners again, and it felt a bit like going home, albeit only for one night. Arriving back at somewhere familiar is quite a rare feeling for us these days. Usually we love arriving somewhere new, but for once it was great to just know the way around and where was good to eat with no effort required. We went back to one of our haunts from the first trip, and had a tasty dinner of curry and nan. Despite the Mr. Potato branding Malacca really is quite a special place, and we were actually delighted that the forgotten bag gave us a chance to return there.

From Malacca we were headed up to the Cameron Highlands for a couple of days. Once we got off the highway the route became much more interesting. The road wound its way up through the hills, becoming rather narrow as it climbed. The sharp bends seemed to provide an interesting challenge to the local drivers, and I would guess the average speed at which they negotiated the curves to be under 20 mph. To be fair though most of the roads in Malaysia are excellent, straight highway, so most people wouldn't need to negotiate mountain roads often. Luckily being on a motorcycle means it is relatively easy for us to overtake, so we made good time regardless, enjoying the beautiful views over the hills. Just outside of Tanah Rata, the road took us past one of the many beautiful tea plantations dotted through the area. Needing a break we stopped to admire it, looking forward to exploring further the next day.

After settling in to our hostel and enjoying a far too large (but awesome) nasi kandar dinner, we checked our emails to find a message from a fellow overlander. Ben is doing the same trip as us, and is also riding an Africa Twin in the same colours as ours. We quickly messaged him back, and keenly agreed to meet at the bike in ten minutes. He turned out to be a lovely guy, and we had a great evening chatting about our experiences on our trips so far. Unlike us, Ben had got his Pakistani visa with no problems. Aside from not being allowed to leave his Quetta hotel for four days (due to security problems), Pakistan sounded absolutely amazing. This has made Oli and I even more determined to return to that area in a few years, as it would also be a handy excuse to visit Iran again.

The next morning we were up and eager to explore the Cameron Highlands. The area is famous for its (relatively) cool weather, tea plantations, and strawberry farms. Already appreciating the first item on that list, we decided to go and check out some examples of the other two. Sadly the traffic did not provide the greatest introduction. To get to our destination it was necessary to negotiate the small town of Brinchang, just a short distance from where we were staying. To say the traffic was ridiculous is a huge understatement. The tailbacks started a few kilometres outside of it, barely easing once we had passed through. Even with the bike allowing easier overtakes it still took forever to crawl along the road, and was definitely an exercise in patience.

Once we turned off the main road, we could finally appreciate the real beauty of this area. As everything we planned to see that day was on this minor route, we decided to start by heading all the way to the top of the mountain. The road was narrow, twisty and of varying quality, so we were glad we didn't meet much traffic coming the other way. It was light work for our wonderful bike, and we easily pulled up the steep slope. Also, nothing makes you appreciate the Africa Twin like watching two ladies struggle up a near perpendicular hill on a 125cc scooter. Impressively however, they did make it. We gave them a cheer when they finally arrived at the top.

At the peak of the hill lies a wooden walkway, providing an easy way to get a look at the dense forest. Admittedly it takes away from the wilderness aspect, but it was still an enjoyable little stroll. We wandered through the forest, on the look out for the Rafflesia Arnoldii flower. This is the largest flower in the world, so should be easy to spot. Sadly however we couldn't see any examples of it, as it is apparently rather rare and not easy to locate for the uninitiated. Although giant flowers were lacking, the mossy trees and quiet forest provided a peaceful atmosphere. We even managed to catch a nice view before the fog rolled in across the mountains.

Following our decidedly untaxing walk, we headed back down the hill. About half way down we spotted a strawberry farm. This place offered pick-your-own fruit, which seemed a temptingly British activity. We eagerly took our baskets, and were led over to the rows of strawberries. Unfortunately it didn't turn out to be as relaxing and enjoyable as we anticipated. Rather than being left to our own devices, the attendant insisted on taking a load of horrendously cheesy photos, all of which played on the apparently hilarious concept of making the berries appear to be giant. In true English style we awkwardly went along with it to keep him happy. However, he then started telling us that  they get a lot of rich tourists from Singapore and Europe that give him money for this service. We were a bit taken aback, and told him it would have been polite to say he wanted money first. He was after the equivalent of £5, which seemed pretty steep. We appreciate that we relatively are richer, but nobody likes being treated like a walking cash machine, especially when the well-off looking Malay visitors were not getting the same treatment. We felt a bit mean but the way it was done really annoyed us, so we just bought a few strawberries and got out of there. Here is a sample photo:

Leaving the strawberry farm behind, we continued on our way back down the mountain. The road wound its way through part of the BOH tea plantation, which seems to stretch for miles. I have said it before in a previous post but tea really is one of the most visually pleasing crops in existence. The vivid green rows highlighted the contours of the landscape beautifully. The vistas stretched out before us were stunning, calling for several photo stops although we only covered a relatively short distance.

Once we arrived at the plantation itself, we decided we had earned a brew. It doesn't get much more local than this, as their tea is both picked and processed on-site. To be honest it tasted like pretty much any other normal cup of tea, but the beautiful setting made it totally worthwhile. We were too late for the factory tour, but weren't too bothered by this. Somehow it was  nicer to ignorantly imagine that the process was non-industrial, far more in keeping with the grand setting!

Leaving the plantation took us a while, as we kept stopping to photograph the jewel green hills. Even though it was incredibly busy with tourists it still just about managed to hang on to a tranquil air. Apologies for all the pictures, we just loved the way the rows of tea enhanced the already spectacular landscape.

The drive back was still horrendously traffic clogged, although fortunately it was better than the morning. The Cameron Highlands area is a strange place. The jury is still out as to whether we liked them. On the plus side, the natural setting is wonderful and the climate provides a very welcome respite from the intense Malaysia heat. However, the place has been partially ruined by terrible traffic, cheesy 'attractions' and stall after stall selling tacky crap (think neon, giant strawberry pillows). Admittedly we did not have much time in the area, and undoubtedly a more peaceful experience can be had if one deviates from the popular parts. However, it was definitely not the tranquil retreat we had imagined it to be.

Back in Tanah Rata we met up with Ben for dinner. We took him along to our favourite nasi kandar, as we were keen to try some of the delicious looking nan breads that had been appearing from the tandoor the night before. The elderly owner of the place was extremely tickled that we had brought a friend along, and spent a while chuckling to himself, popping over frequently to see how we were doing. The food was excellent and cheap. If we had happened to be staying a third night, we would undoubtedly have ended up there again!

The next day we were headed back to Penang. Once we successfully negotiated the horrific Brinchang weekend traffic, we eventually found ourselves on a wonderful stretch of road. Thankfully most people don't seem to venture much further than the village past there, so it was relatively quiet and the traffic could flow freely. Sadly the hills and valleys were cloaked in a heavy mist, so what may well have been stunning views were totally obscured. However, as we worked our way downwards it did clear slightly, and we could see dense, untouched jungle, punctuated by rising columns of mist. The more remote parts of the highlands seem to be the best ones, so perhaps it is worth a return visit after all.

Once we hit the highway, the weather was starting to look threatening. Ominous grey clouds blanketed the horizon. Our hopes that we would somehow avoid it were futile, and what started as a light rain quickly morphed into a downpour. We were wearing our Draggin' jeans, and despite Oli's waterproof over-trousers we were soaked in no time at all. Whilst our boots were initially holding up well, passing lorries in the flood-water was an experience not dissimilar to having a bucket of water chucked at us, so the rain quickly ran and soaked our feet. We also had to negotiate some rather deep sections of surface water, not brilliant at highway speeds. Eventually the rain did ease, but not before we had the appearance of badly drowned rats. Arriving back at Kean's felt like coming home. We enjoyed a lazy Saturday evening and a very relaxed Sunday, readying ourselves for the busy week ahead.

Monday was planned as a day of bureaucracy; applying for Indonesia visas and sorting out the paperwork for the bike shipment. Finding the Indonesian consulate was not as easy as we anticipated, and we spent a considerable amount of time negotiating one way systems before parking the bike and walking the remainder of the way in the steaming heat. For some reason our GPS is convinced that Malaysians drive on the right (not true), which is not exactly helpful in such situations.

The reward for our efforts was finding the embassy closed due to an Indonesian public holiday, and a sign on the door announced that they would remain shut until the next morning. Brilliant. Thankfully the bike paperwork consisted of merely photocopying the carnet and Oli's passport, so at least that part was easy. The day was finished off with some awesome veggie food, and a beautiful sunset from the roof of the Queensbay mall.

We woke early on Tuesday, wanting to get our Indonesia visa applications in as early as possible. We were unsure as to how long the process took, and our passports were essential for the planned port visit on Wednesday, so had no time to waste. Sod's law, the weather was against us, with a huge storm breaking twenty minutes before we had planned to leave the house. The rain is always rather heavy in this part of the world, but even by those standards this was torrential. Add thunder and lightning into the mix, and we were not exactly keen to venture out on the bike. After almost an hour it showed little sign of abating, so we realised we would just have to put all our waterproofs on and suck it up.

Fortunately it did start to ease a little shortly after we got on the road, so we didn't receive as bad a drenching as the highlands to Penang drive. Our applications were turned in with minimal fuss, and we were relieved and delighted to be told that we could collect them the following morning. The woman on the reception desk at the embassy definitely deserves a mention. She was unfailingly friendly and polite, even when faced with a horde of customers that seemed unable to queue but very able to ask endless questions. We left the place with fingers crossed, hoping that our applications would run smoothly, as we didn't really have enough days for anything to go wrong.

With not much else to do that day we busied ourselves with a couple of coffee stops, and Oli got his hair cut. We did a lap of the island on some gloriously twisty roads, and sorted out what luggage would be going on the boat with the bike, and what would be coming on the plane with us. The best part of the day however came at the end. Kean took us an amazing seafood restaurant right on the beach. Obviously the seafood aspect was a little wasted on me, but the boys loved it and the veggie selection was also excellent. The place was called Khun Thai, and got a big thumbs up from Oli and I. We would definitely recommend it to anyone visiting Penang.

Today we headed to the Indonesian Embassy to pick up our visas. The time pressure was reduced slightly, as due to an engine problem we are now loading the bike tomorrow instead. Our passports were returned to us with 60 day visas all present and correct, so as long as there are no hitches with the boat and the flight we are good to go to Indonesia on Sunday. Now, we just have to get the bike on the boat without panicking about the fact that it will be dangling from a rope during the loading process!