Sumatra

After a few months in the tropics, the cold nights and lack of humidity in mountainous Berastagi initially appeared to be a blessing, until it was time to take a shower - a giant cold bucket of water manually scooped onto your back with a smaller bucket. Making this painful experience worthwhile was a trip to Danau (Lake) Kawar and an overnight stay with a family in the lakeside village. Despite a nonexistence of English speakers, body language helped communicate the cost of my stay, resulting in a place to sleep on the floor for $1.50, one of the best meals I had in Indonesia for 70 cents, and a bonus of free games of badminton with the children of the village.

Lake Kawar lies in the shadow of Sinabung volcano, reached by a trail that climbs from agricultural farmland into dense jungle, where I managed to get stung twice by a giant wasp, and eventually emerging on the top of an active volcano. At the summit, sulfur escapes from every available crevice, mixing with the fog which blanketed the surrounding area..

On the way down, mother nature unleashed a furious rain and thunder storm which poured down relentlessly, turning the path into a muddy river. While splashing through the mud, I kept looking over my shoulder expecting to see a giant T-Rex chasing me through the jungle. After a minivan ride back to Berastagi, soaked to the bone, I was confronted with a dilemma when I discovered that my guesthouse offered hot showers, (which I had not experienced for the previous 3 months), for the sum of 10,000 rupiah ($1). I am fully confident that what followed was the best spent dollar of my life.

Yet another minivan adventure brought me to Danau toba, a massive crater lake which was created by a series of volcanic explosions, the most recent being 74,000 years ago, in a blast that killed all but 10,000 humans on earth and affected the earths temperature for 1,000 years. The lake region is home to the Batak people, the vast majority of whom have been converted to Christianity, resulting in some interesting architecture and a church located about every 100 meters.

While touring the area by motorbike, a visit was paid to the Batak museum which featured the worst cultural performance I have ever witnessed. For 30 painful minutes, a group of "Batak" people shuffled around to a "traditional" drumbeat without an ounce of enthusiasm escaping from their faces. The performance ended in bizarre fashion with a strange puppet summoning members of the audience to donate extra money.

Not surprisingly, as soon as the performance ended, the entire cast rushed into one of the nearby traditional houses where they quickly emerged wearing their street clothes and checking their cell phones.

Accommodation at lake Toba is located on Samosir island,which is the size of Singapore, making it the biggest island inside of a lake in the world. After several days of relaxing by the lake, I felt the need to combat the atrophy in my legs and make a trek across the island. The midpoint of the 2 day trek was another lake - which is a lake (Sidihoni), inside of an island (Samosir), inside of a lake(Toba), inside of an island (Sumatra).

Upon leaving Lake Toba, it was a tortuous 17 hour bus journey south to Bukitinnggi, a ride that featured chain smoking ,monsoon rains and endless potholes. The lasting memory of this journey was the midnight stop at a roadside restaurant, in which my identity as the only non-sumatran in sight became a spectacle for all to see. My order of Nasi goreng (fried rice) was late to arrive, much to the delight of the gap toothed man sitting across from me. After making small talk with our respectively weak English and Bahasa Indonesia, we were able to communicate that I was from California and hungry. When my food finally arrived, my new friend erupted in laughter, shouting "Na-si go-rayng" and pointing at my dish. Back on the bus, he made sure to remind me with hourly updates; "huh huh - nasi goreng, ha." Maybe because it was such an unoriginal choice? Maybe he really enjoyed the combination of the words nasi and goreng? Maybe he was just good old fashioned crazy? I may never know for sure.

After surviving this journey, I was greeted by a worthy reward. One of the highlights of all of Southeast Asia was watching the nightly migration of flying foxes (large bats) through Sianok canyon at sunset, to the soundtrack of the call to prayer, emanating from various local mosques. As the day faded, the prayers seemed to call the bats (who are so large they visibly struggle to keep themselves airborne), out of their caves towards the sun, setting over a landscape blanketed with volcanoes.