February 20, 2007

Pekanbaru (SUMATRA)

The Tiring Side of Travel, More Toilets, and Life Below the Equator

Singapore to Bukittinggi Photo Gallery

As should be obvious from the title, today was full of laborious traveling. I started with a 7am departure from Batam on another aging boat - the picture of the boat's only bathroom [shown below] says it all. The ride lasted six hours as I slowly made my way into inner Sumatra via rivers and canals. The brackish river water and jungle habitation made for good viewing initially, but the view was relatively static throughout the trip. Nevertheless, I blocked out the sounds of Bruce Lee movies and took the opportunity to catch up on sleep.

The boat docked at around 2:00 in the afternoon, and as I stepped off the boat it dawned on me how easy it is to get off track. There are no signs, no people advising you in English, no information desks or helping hands, nor are there any of the other everyday pieces of assistance we take for granted in modern society. If information gets lost because of communication difficulties I could easily lose an entire day trying to figure out what happened (and then finding my way back).

Other than a lone house 50 meters away, there were no signs of life near the dock - and certainly not a bustling city. I did my best to mingle with the native Indonesians who were also de-boarding so I could get an idea of what to do next, and I eventually found my way onto a bus that appeared destined for Pekanbaru. I was somewhat apprehensive about climbing aboard, but it wasn't like my situation would get any better on its own. "Just put the ball in play", I thought, "and everything else will work itself out."

The bus was destined for Pekanbaru after all, but it took a painful three hours to get there. It was a case of shake-rattle-and-roll as the rickety bus tumbled its way around motorcycles and logging trucks to make up for lost time. Fortunately, the view of the countryside was worth every penny because I was seeing the real face of Sumatra. The landscape had an island feel about it, but the shacks and filth along the side of the road reminded me why Sumatra is still a far-cry from a tourism hot spot.

Another highlight from the bus ride was the friendliness shown to me by the locals. The other passengers on the bus tried out the few English phrases they knew, and when we stopped for a bathroom break I was offered food, drinks, and cigarettes. The "bathroom break" included a visit to the mini-dock [shown at center], and I began wondering about the fish for sale at the stall out front.

I eventually arrived in Pekanbaru, but it was obvious that the less time spent here the better (unless one is interested in oil refineries). I booked a ticket to Bukittinggi, and boarded the bus just after 7pm.

The bus ride was cramped with people, there were no shocks for the bumpy roads, and all the men were smoking cigarettes in the confined area. Desperate for fresh air, I braved the rain as best I could and cracked my window slightly open. I began getting the "get me out of here" feeling, but there is nothing that can be done. I believe it was General Patton who once remarked, "When you are going through hell, it is best to keep going." This is the one aspect of traveling I always try to stress with people who think it is nothing but a joyride: vacationing is one thing, traveling is another.

The over-night bus ride did not get any better: it went from a five hour jaunt to an eight hour test of endurance. A torrential downpour started somewhere before midnight, and the roof of the bus sprung a steady stream of water that sprayed both me and the man sitting next to me. I was at the point where I could do nothing but smile and sigh, "Figures!", but it kept me from getting even a wink of sleep. Matters got more complicated when our bus broke down at around 1am. We were stuck on the shoulder of the road with a sheer drop to our left, and with the rain still dripping on me I began wondering if this was becoming some kind of a sick joke.

After about an hour of waiting in misery, a passing bus stopped and took some of us aboard. Thankfully, there were no leaks on this bus, but I was still worried I would miss my stop and so I kept myself awake for the remaining three hour leg.

I arrived at a bus station in the outskirts of Bukittinggi at 4am in the morning, and it was a welcome relief to finally be done with heavy traveling. Adding to my sense of arrival was the live broadcast of the Champions League match between Real Madrid and Bayern Munich that was being shown on a small television in an adjacent restaurant. I cheered alongside a rowdy group of Indonesians as Real Madrid edged out a 3-2 victory for the first leg. After the match ended I had to wait for the morning buses to begin their rounds so I could continue into the city and find a hostel. While waiting, I chatted with other Indonesians and I have begun picking up some of the essentials of the Indonesian language.

Since leaving my dormitory 36 hours ago, I have ridden on seven different buses, two trains, three taxis, and two boats. Some would say this is what happens when you don't book a flight or charter a bus, but looking back I wouldn't change a thing. No tour book or brochure can ever duplicate the things I saw, and for me that is one of the most rewarding parts of a good adventure - the fact that it is unique. After tallying up my financial expenses, I don't think I saved all that much money compared to a direct flight, but my route was never about the money.