Sumatra and Jogjakarta

As New York digs itself out of another massive snow storm, I thought I would take the time to write about our recent travels through Sumatra and Central Java.

Irene's brother Ralph came to Indonesia for a three week visit on the first of January and we all went for a six day trip to Northern central Sumatra.  We flew into Medan in Sumatra and then traveled by car to the jungles of Bukit Lawang/Bohorok for two days and then traveled to the mountains where we stayed at Lake Toba before heading back to Jakarta.

Medan is the capital of the North Sumatra province.  It is located on the northern coast of Sumatra and is the fourth largest city in Indonesia and the largest city outside Java.  The city was formed back in the late 1500s by Malays.  Some people think the name of the city, Medan, was a derivative of Medina and others think it came from the Hindi word, Maidan, meaning ground.  But there appears to be more Muslim influences to this city than Hindi, but like all things Indonesian, it is no one thing.  Back in the 1600s the Sultan of Aceh (a muslim) established an outpost here which became the Sultanate of Deli.  Yes, there is a Deli river flowing through Medan.  There is also a huge mosque in the city center, which we did not get to visit due to time constraints.  The Dutch came to this city in the late 1600s and maintained their presence here until independence in 1949.  However, there is not a lot left of the older Dutch architecture except for a few areas along some of the markets and some of the more massive governmental structures built by the Dutch.

What makes Medan of note to our family is the fact that after World War II, Medan was the staging ground for re-uniting the Dutch and British families who were separated by the Japanese into different prison and labor camps.  When the Japanese invaded Indonesia in the latter part of 1941 and the beginning of 1942, they moved all of the Dutch (and other non native peoples) into work camps:  the men in one set of camps and the women and children into another set of camps.  Before the war, Irene's grandfather worked for the Dutch Colonial Postal Service.  Irene's mother was born in Jakarta, and the family lived in many different areas of Indonesia, but mostly in Sumatra.  At the time of the Japanese invasion, the family was still living in Indonesia for, although they were probably well aware of the dangers this posed to them, they had no where else to go since Holland was under Nazi control.  Thus they were swept up by the Japanese and placed in internment camps.  Irene's mother's family (Irene's mother, aunt, uncle (who was maybe 6 years old at the time) and grandmother) were separated from Irene's grandfather and sent to a prison camp while the grandfather was shipped off to a labor camp.  After the war, the international red cross brought all of the freed Dutch people to the city of Medan where the families were eventually re-united with one another and repatriated with their country.  I believe Irene's mother and her aunt first went to Holland alone, and were then later joined by their mother, father and brother.

Thus Medan has special significance to the Koek family.  

But we were on a mission to get to the jungles and see the orangutans, so we did not linger much in the city.  However, as we blew out of the city I did take some pictures of the local bajajs, which is something like a rickshaw but powered by a motorcycle.  In Jakarta we do not have as many bajajs, but instead have becaks, which are small three wheeled vehicles powered by a small two stroke engine, which makes them the worst polluters in a very polluted city.  Here in Medan the bajajs are a little more modern than the foot powered vehicles found in smaller cities and moderate size cities such as Jogjakarta, but they are all colorfully painted by their owners and much cleaner than Jakarta's becaks. 

 

It was about a four hour drive over perhaps a 120 miles (the roads are horrendous) to Bukit Lawang.  We passed through many small villages and towns, but I recall one area where we passed three or four places all within several kilometers of one another where people had small cages filled with large bats the size of flying foxes hanging upside down.  Evidently bat is considered a delicacy in that particular area.  But despite the fact that we had not had anything to eat since lunch almost two hours ago, I could not get anyone particularly interested in stopping for a bite to eat at any of the roadside places at that time.  Unfortunately, I also did not have my camera available at the time we passed these places.  By the time I dug it out of the luggage we had passed the bats by.  I did take a picture of one stand which I thought had bat, but as I subsequently learned from a closer examination of the shot, it was a picture of hanging fruit not hanging fruit bats.  But you get the picture.

After a four hour trip over some rather bumpy pot marked roads, we finally arrived at Bukit Lawang, which is part of the Gunung Leuser nature reservation.  This is a huge National Park covering almost 8000 square kilometers in North Sumatra.  We obviously were not able to see the entire park, which is home to Sumatran tigers, rhino, elephant, orangutan and other exotic wildlife.  You can spend weeks in the park searching for Sumatra tiger and the closest you might come to a tiger is the soft squishy thing under your foot, for there are only about 500 tigers left in Sumatra.  But we knew we would be able to see some orangutan because Bukit Lawang, which is located inside the park, is a designated orangutan sanctuary where orangutans who had previously been kept as pets, work animals or zoo animals are kept and rehabilitated back to the wild and their natural habitat. 

While at Bukit Lawang, we stayed at the Jungle Inn, which is right in the nature preserve atop a wide stream and steep water fall.  It is accessible only by a one and a half or two kilometer foot path from the street.  So, after the four hour car ride, being all young and vibrant, we shirked the Sherpa and slogged ourselves and our bags to the Jungle Inn.  The walk to the Inn however, really was no big deal and the Jungle Inn really was worth the little bit of extra effort.  I had booked the honeymoon suite and the river view room for us based on all the advice I had received from other travelers.  The Inn is built into the mountain along a quick flowing waterfall that flows into the stream below. 

 

This is the waterfall which we reach by going out
the back door of our bathroom



The rooms are stone and wood in the old Malay style:  massive furniture which must have been constructed on location hewn from huge dense wood.  The bathrooms are huge garden type affairs.  Electricity and plumbing are not modern, efficient, or laudable.  But hey we were in the jungle.  We had to make sure we closed all doors and

This is the front door of the honeymoon suite- a private suite

windows when we left our rooms, otherwise the monkeys would run into the room and play with all our shiny stuff.  I understand they like to take your picture with your purloined camera as you run after them cursing and shouting, trying to get your stuff back.  They are rumored to have been seen updating their facebook page on a guest's laptop with the pictures they had just taken of the irate tourist.  

Freedy taking orders from some Australians

Freedy was the manager, or at least the face of the Jungle Inn, who served as the waiter, raconteur, and at least for Ralph, who stayed up much later than us, the musical entertainment.  Freedy was born and raised here, is married and has one teenage daughter.  Freedy is of indeterminate age, but has the appearance of a Sumatran Keith Richards/Captain Jack Sparrow. 

He made our stay at the Jungle Inn quite enjoyable.

But we did not come to Bukit Lawang merely to hang out at the Jungle Inn (though with river rafting, exotic alcoholic drinks and a beautiful atmosphere it was tempting).  No, we were here to see the orangutans.  So, the next day we set out with our guide across the river and on into the jungle.  The river crossing was itself a trip in a small dug out canoe that is pulled across the rapids along a guide wire strung from shore to shore.  It was a bit wet but also quite fun and exhilarating. 



waiting at the feeding station

Once across the shore we started hiking up the mountain.  We first climbed some steps carved into the shore cliff, then climbed up a steep path, then across a small field and then up another path of rock and mud.  Did I tell you we were going up? a mountain? in a rainforest? early in the morning?  Without a starbucks in sight?  Carrying a heavy camera?  Just as I was starting to feel sorry for us, a park employee scampered past us carrying two big slopping buckets filled with milk and banana mash for the orangutans.  Up ahead, along a very slippery slope and a very small wet and muddy clearing we stopped.

  There built into a tree, which we looked down upon, was a small wooden platform which was erected as the orangutan feeding platform.   A crowd of more than a fifteen people were huddled about waiting to see the orangutans come to feed. 

After about a half an hour a couple of orangutans did slowly descend from the upper trees to the platform.  The sound of about a dozen cameras all clicking away was almost deafening.  But we were looking at orangutans in the wild. 
After about an hour the show was over and everyone was told to go back down.  Everyone but us that is because we had the good sense to hire a guide to lead us further into the jungle to look for more orangutans.  You may not wander into the jungle without a guide.  A couple of Australians tried to do that and they were quickly herded back down the mountain.  We, however, started on our passage up.
That's right, I said up for we were no where near the top of the mountain (I say mountain- the guides would probably call it a hill).  We were soon to learn that our initial little climb was nothing more than a stroll through the park.  We had many more miles to go.  And for the first couple of miles our guides kept on telling us not to get our hopes up.  Sometimes they see orangutans and sometimes they see nothing.  But, in order to drag us on, they kept on saying that it looked like a good day for orangutans.
Next up Orangutown . . .