A Long Ride to Bukittinggi

 

My next destination was a town in central Sumatra called Bukittinggi.  The short Sumatran bus trips were over; the drive from Parapat to Bukittinggi I took over 16 hours!  The buses were full on account of a Muslim holiday (the end of Ramadan), so instead I had booked a ride with an SUV.  When it finally showed in the evening up two hours later than advertised the driver told me I could take the front seat.  Great - more room for my legs!  What I did not anticipate was that a kid would sit on the middle consul with his legs pressed against mine on the passenger side.

Yeah, back on the Trans Sumatra Highway (to be fair
it's not always that bad, just not really a highway)

Not surprisingly I had a crappy night's sleep.  A few passengers got off before me so at least I got a few hours to doze off alone in the front seat.  By the time we reached Bukittingi it was already late morning!  Another guy in the SUV who was headed for Bukittinggi directed me to the center of town where I could look for accommodation.  I found a small guesthouse owned an operated by an older German man who had been living in Indonesia for years.  He was more than happy to provide information about the town and nearby excursions.

The room was pretty cheap - about 7 dollars for a bed and private bathroom!  But I have to say the place was in dire need of a makeover.  The bathroom had no shower head, just a bucket with cold water and a scoop for washing.  I had used this system before and didn't mind it except that the nights in Bukittingi can get chilly.  That's the time when hot water would be great and you want anything but a freezing shower.  In Berastagi I had a shower head but no hot water either.  It was cool outside and the water so cold I could barely even stay under long enough to wash off!  But it's hard to complain considering the price.

A typical Indonesian mandi (bathroom), with squat toilet and a
tank of water for scooping to shower (and to flush the toilet)

Also the room was only available for one night.  Many places were booked because of the Muslim holiday.  After Ramadan Indonesians travel back to their home towns to celebrate with family, and Bukittingi seemed especially busy.  The central square was packed with an outdoor market and crowds of tourists.  I figured I'd either look for a different place to stay in town the following night or move on somewhere else.

The central clock tower in Bukittinggi; the parking lot was  
converted into an outdoor market for the holiday

Surprisingly I wasn't too tired after a rocky, cramped few hours dozing off on the ride, so I wanted to take advantage of the day in Bukittingi.  The German owner suggested I travel to a nearby village to see the Rafflesia arnoldii, the world's largest flower.  The flower pedals only stay for a few days and then die off; a glimpse of the flower in full bloom is rare.  The petals had been spotted a couple day's prior so the sight would soon be gone.

The world's largest flower; apparently it smells like rotting flesh!

Checking out the Rafflesia sounded like a cool idea, but the bus times were erratic and I would need to hire a local guide to take me through the forest, not cheap for a group of one.  I figured I could do a few things in town and then gauge if a trip was feasible later in the day.   After walking around the central market and taking in all the smells, sounds, and a few tastes I found a camera shop, and I remembered my broken camera sitting in the guesthouse.  Hoping for good news I ran to get it.  The battery was dead and needed time to charge, so I had to wait around for the news - not good timing for a flower visit, but there were other things to do in Bukittinggi and my camera was seemed more important!

While waiting for news on my camera I checked out the local zoo.  For a town of 100,000, especially in a developing country, I'l imagine setting up a zoo is one of the last things on a city planner's mind.  There were a decent array of animals but conditions were squalid.  If you are an animal rights activitist definitely give it a pass - in fact, PETA members should probably skip most of SE Asia!

What struck me was not the animals' poor condition at the zoo, but some of the visitors' conduct.  I caught kids throwing sticks into a crocodile pen (too bad there was a wall in the way!) and even a full grown woman throwing old food scraps at the orangutangs.  Kids are one thing but a 40 year old woman...well I now know where the younger ones get their ideas.  It was a sad sight but should not have been too surprising; the concept of animal rights is rare outside the West.

I'd want out of there too!

On a lighter note, while at the zoo I must have taken photos with more than 10 families.  The area was packed with visitors from other parts of the country, some of whom probably never get a chance to meet foreigners.  People started walking up to me to say hello, and then invariably they would ask to take a photo with me.  What started out as one photo with the dad morphed into a dozen pictures with every possible combination of family members and the foreigner.  Once one family broke the ice others were encourage to try.  At one point I noticed a line of people waiting to say hello and get a photo with me - I felt like I was no longer a tourist and had become a zoo exhibition!  After 20 minutes of photos I had to excuse myself and get away; if I hadn't I could have stood there with camera phones in my face for hours!

That's enough photos, thanks.

Even though the photos got to be annoying, overall the people were incredibly friendly.  Seemingly everywhere I went I got smiles and a "hello, mister!"  Some tourists complain about the attention but I mostly enjoyed it and took the opportunity to practice a bit of Bahasa Indonesia.  People were surprised and pleased to hear me say even a few words in their language, and I'm sure it gave them a positive image of foreigners.  Just think - they may rarely see let alone talk with someone like you, so what seems like just another encounter with a random Indonesian could have a major effect on their impression of Westerners.

After visiting a park adjacent to the zoo I was headed back toward my guesthouse when I met another friendly local.  Actually it was a family sitting outside their house who said hello.  We chatted for a couple minutes and then they invited me into their home!  I was a bit hesitant but went inisde where we sat in the living room and the family practiced their English with me.  The mother asked if I was hungry and offered me a home cooked meal!  I was blown away by the level of genuine hospitality.

The group included extended family members, some of whom were visiting for the holiday.  Interestingly all of the women wore the hijab, which covers their hair and neck, and the family seemed to be observant Muslims.  I've heard about Muslim hospitality, especially when it comes to feeding their guests, but this is certainly not the impression most Americans have.  When Americans hear Islam the images that pop into our heads are often violent - terrorism, Taliban fighters, Palestinians throwing rocks, Egyptian protesters - but rarely reflect a true picture.  A sensationalist media has a lot of blame, and let's be honest - the Muslim world does have a lot of problems - but I wish we in the West could see other more positive portrayals of Muslims.  Not to say that they are good people simply because they are Muslim, but because they are people, not much different than a you or I am.

I found Indonesian Muslims to be quite friendly

A woman modeling the hijab.  Is it just me or is a woman wearing both
make-up and a hijab ironic? If the point of the hijab is to conceal
beauty and prevent unwanted attention, then isn't it's affect
negated by the flashy make-up?  Not to mention the women I saw
wearing a hijab and skin-tight jeans.  Maybe they feel compelled by society,
their family, etc, to wear it but still want to maintain a perception of beauty?

By the time I left their house it had started to rain, so they even gave me a ride back to my guesthouse!  I had decided to visit Maninaju, a supposedly beautiful lake, where (according to my new German trip adviser) I would have more luck finding accommodation the following day.  I made a trip to the bus station to purchase my ticket in advance, visited the market in the town center for a second time, and tried to get to bed early to catch up on sleep.

My ride to Maninjau wasn't leaving until after lunch, so in the morning I had planned a walk to a nearby canyon.  Along the way I passed a series of tunnels commissioned by Japanese soldiers and dug with forced Indonesian labor during WW2.  I'm not sure if I ever found the path my German guide had recommended, but I had a good stroll nonetheless.  The initial trail was crowded with Indonesian tourists and more "hello mister" greetings.  I found a different, quieter, and more scenic path back up the canyon which landed me in a random part of town.  I got more of the "why is he here?" looks, but it wasn't too long before I found my way back to the guesthouse, collected my bags, and prepared to head on to Maninjau.