This description provided by Nancy:
Happy Independence Day America! Have we told you how much we love our country?
We walked out the door at 6:00 am to join Dean Tagor, Berta, Marnala on a trip to Lake Tabo. We climbed into the Official University Mini Van, rearranging all the stuff Dean Tagor had piled in there. We drove through the city, suburbs, through the neighborhoods of Sinatar. We stopped on a small street, walked into someone’s home, where they were making and selling the traditional Lappet – a rice, coconut, ball with red palm sugar. They were warm and very tasty. I guess this is their version of a drive-through restaurant?
We drove 40 minutes through the cities. Dean Tagor drove in the Batak-style – aggressive. (Not the Javanese style which is calmer.) We came into one small city where a bus was unloading passengers in front of us. Well, it blocked both “lanes” and we couldn’t move ahead. So Dean Tagor decided to start blowing his horn – thinking that would help. He did it again and again and again. We were trying not to laugh. In America, someone would have flipped him off or in a big city, shot him. Eventually the bus moved and we came up over the mountain to the city of Parapat and could see Lake Tabo – it was beautiful. It almost looked like Austria from the hillside above – steep, green, folded mountains, a blue sky, and a lovely shiny lake. A few cathedrals were situated on the peninsula. We drove through the monkey preserve – and saw a few of the friendlier fellows along the roadside. We approached the lake and got in line for the ferry across the lake to the Island Samosiar, well known as the tourist spot of all Sumatra. We got in line, and found out we wouldn’t be on the next ferry. Too many cars ahead of us. We’d have to wait an hour. Well, Dean Tagor wanted to get through more quickly, and went up to talk to the ferry-guys. Meanwhile, we are walking along the street – wide enough for two cars to barely pass one another, shops on either sides with broken sidewalks and huge drainage holes (sometimes covered with a grate, sometimes with a chair sticking in it so you don’t fall in, sometimes just wide open). Children were running in and out through the streets. But no one was begging or in our face. It was just life – and we were thrilled to be observers of it.
A memorable moment: while sitting in the car, waiting for the ferry, we watched a shopkeeper use a bristle broom to sweep the dust, trash, and cigarette butts off of the packed-earth around her shop. She carefully swept up every scrap… and swept it directly into the lake.
After a wait, we got on the ferry. The ramp for the ferry was not securely attached to the land – just a pile of big rocks, some dirt. Cars and trucks lined up and backed onto the ferry – three rows, and eight deep – maybe a total of 25 vehicles. Meanwhile, all the other passengers are walking around and inbetween the moving, backing vehicles, ladies are selling hard boiled eggs with chili sauce, children are running in and through trying to “help” the ferry guys… safety was not an issue. We walked up steep metal stairs, with a thick smell of diesel fuel and got to the enclosed top level where there were wooden benches to sit. Windows were all around for a nice view of the beautiful scenery. The other passengers were talking, smoking, children were running around (many in their pajamas), peeling their eggs and throwing the egg shell on the floor, again – a fascinating glance at life.
Halfway across the lake (a 40-minute ferry ride) Dean Tagor remembers he left his cell phone charging at the little shop where we had a coffee before getting on the ferry. After much angst, it was decided Berta would go back on the ferry to retrieve it (hopefully) and Jim, Jacob, Marnala and I would wander through the shops and museum in the area. Dean Tagor had a meeting 35 km away and would be back to join us later.
We walked through the narrow, shaded lanes of shops. No vendor was too pushy, we stopped and looked at a few things and Marnala helped ask questions and negotiate. We went to the graves of Butra Butra people – 600 year old tombs, situated with traditional Batak carvings and house-shape (sloped roof line). There was a totem pole, some interesting sculptures (not well kept – weedy, rocky, broken concrete, and lots of trash).
Went to the Batak Museum – no one else was there. We had to call out to find someone to say it was okay for us to go in. It was fascinating, incredible wooden sculptures, tall staffs with voo-doo type heads on them (the Batak’s were supposively cannibals until the early 1900’s). The whole museum was inside of a Batak Style house – with steep steps leading inside the above-level first floor. This is called a Rumah-style Batak house.
Wandered through the shops, finally negotiating and making the purchase of a kecapi (Indonesian name) or a Hasapi (Batak name) of a two-stringed instrument for Jacob. 150,000 rupiahs. Very cool. Jacob was thrilled.
We sat down to have a drink by the ferry to wait for Berta. This is an outdoor café with one metal table and six plastic chairs. It is situated by the “common market” where the locals are selling fresh fish caught in the lake. A pile of maybe 50 big silver fish were in a pile, one was still flip-flopping on the bottom of the pile. They were spread out on a nasty plastic cloth, and three women were squatting (my knees cringed) and scaling them. In between using here huge knife to scale the fish, she’d grab a handful of rice and fish bits and shove them in her mouth, and keep going! Did I mention the flies and the smell… oh my gosh. Suddenly, my appetite was gone, gone, gone.
We finally caught up with Berta and then Dean Tagor. We all went to lunch at a little shop directly across from the ferry. Okay, this is the big “tourist” spot and this is a “restaurant” right across from the ferry. Let’s just say it is very different from what you’d find in America. We sat down in the open air restaurant, pulled out the plastic chairs, a stained, holey table cloth was on the table. A big teapot of boiled water was on the table and we poured ourselves a glass of water into the glasses that were already sitting out. You order from the front glass window, picking out your lake-fish or little fish. All had eyes and scales still attached. Luckily we all got nace – rice – and several plates of big ol’ fish with a slice of cucumber. That, plus the hot drinking water, the smells from the street, the flies… it was entertaining to say the least. All the time, we are having a great conversation with Dean Tagor and the girls. We are sharing so much with them – and boy, are they sharing with us!
We then drove Tuktuk, a super touristy place where we actually saw three other white people. But, the definition of touristy place is very different than ours. Again, trash is all over, streets are filled with potholes, building are not complete, more trash, no landscaping, no sidewalks… but a beautiful view of the lake in the background surrounded by striking green mountains.
We stopped and climbed a hill to view some historic graves, and marveled at the 360-degree view of mountains and beautiful water. Similar to the opening scene of Sound of Music…. Gorgeous! Dean Tagor had stayed with the car (he wasn’t up for the uphill hike) and had a white handkerchief situated on his head to keep him cool. We finished our drive to return to the ferry in time. Well, guess what – we were not in line in time to catch the next one, so we’d had to wait an hour. We sat down and watched as they unloaded on ferry… now let me tell you where we were sitting. We sat on a 12” in diameter water pipe, that was above ground, with dirt, dust and trash at our feet, watching as these big vans, trucks and cars drove through the dusty parking area… and this was the best spot to sit. A guy on a motorbike was selling ice cream from a freezer-thing, and it looked legit. So, for 1,000 rupia (15-cents) we got an ice cream – about the size of two sample cups at a frozen-yogurt shop in the US. Tasty, cold, clean… though Jacob would’ve been able to eat about 20 more that size. When we were done, Berta threw her cup over her shoulder. Yes, there was trash all around… I mean, this was pretty nasty, but we still couldn’t just set ours down. We got up and found a trash area (overflowing into the parking area) and Berta thought that was funny we would get up to find a trash can: and this is a well dress, educated woman. Again – a cultural difference.
Finally, on the ferry, after a TWO hour wait (painful), extremely hot, and trying not to drink much because we didn’t dare go to a public bathroom (or a restaurant bathroom either). Back on the ferry, arriving back on the mainland around 7:30, and an hour drive home.
All throughout the day we were discussing education strategies with our hosts, planning workshops, asking each other cultural questions… it was wonderful, exhausting, and we were glad to get home and crawl in bed.
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