Two Couriers to Singapore Find Adventure on the Road to Sumatra

By Jay J. Stemmer
IAATC Member, Glendale, Calif.
(c) Copyright 1989 - 2004

We were besieged by tour guides, taxi drivers, helpers and hustlers as soon as we stepped out of the airport.

This was Medan, the capital of Sumatra, with few flights to deliver prey. We were two blades of grass in a swarm of locust. "Medan?" "Hotel?" "Taxi?" "Change money?" "Where do you want to go? -- Carry your bags? -- A good tour? "

The terminal facilities are accessed from outside the building, so we were obliged to endure the gauntlet. One of the fellows attached himself to us as I spotted two money changers. "The second one gives better rates," he whispered. I checked them out -- he was right. My friend watched our bags while I checked on a bus to Lake Toba. After learning that it was seven kilometers from the airport to the bus station, then the bus to Lake Toba would cost each of us 20,000 rupiah (US$10) and take 5 or 6 hours, we decided that a taxi for the combined price of RP80,000 (US$40) wasn't too bad. And the whole trip would only take 4 hours.

I came out of the tourist bureau armed with a map, appropriately marked with Xs, and found my partner still talking with our new-found "friend." Politeness was obviously mistaken for kinship. We began to bargain with him; I made sure he saw me cast occasional glances at the hustlers lurking in the background, just waiting for negotiations to fail.

We got the whole deal for RP70,000 (US$35), followed him to his taxi and got into the back. He sat next to the driver and gave directions to the hotel. We looked at each other -- the "taxi" was a beat-up piece of junk -- and it wasn't even his! We stopped at Malaysia Air to confirm our return seats and when I came back, I learned that there was another plan under way. We were to change to another, much nicer cab; these two guys would get RP40,000 now and we'd pay the remaining RP30,000 to the new driver when we got to our destination.

Pit Stops & Police
Finally we were on our way and out on the open road, into the hill country and through the jungle -- until he stopped at a roadside store for a snack. Later we stopped for gas. Later we stopped for cigarettes. Still, we were making decent time over the rickety bridges and through the villages until a policeman stepped into the middle of the road and flagged us down. The driver showed his papers and got very frustrated when the cop started writing a ticket. We had been going slowly through town, so it couldn't be for speeding. The driver stomped his feet and tried to explain the situation to us in Indonesian. He spoke no English and we spoke nothing else. He leaned toward us and reached his hand out for money. This was no time to indicate any comprehension of the scene, and we returned blank stares. He became more frustrated. He followed the policeman to the station. It was the first day of the month and we concluded that his registration had just expired.

Our driver had been playing a tape of Indonesian bells and drums loud enough to entertain entire villages as we drove through. We had asked him earlier to turn it down; an hour of drums and bells was enough. Now, after his ordeal with the police, he was content to brood quietly as he drove. After another hour, on a snaking mountain road, he pulled into a small car park on the edge of a cliff. There was a wonderful view of the lake to the left and the right for as far as we could see. Believing it to be a comfort stop, we got out and began to stretch our legs. Suddenly a man appeared from nowhere. There were no houses or buildings in sight, but there he was.

The man offered us a deal in broken English. He would take us across the lake to our hotel in his boat for a price. We could see no boat, let alone a hotel -- we weren't going anywhere. We stretched while he talked, and finally we got back into the cab to complete the trip by land.

Ferry Terminal Negotiations
Now the twists and turns of the mountainous road were negotiated with drums and bells at full volume; we arrived at an entrance gate with hearing impairments. The guard took the equivalent of 25 cents from each of us and politely told us the cost of the ferry. The driver took the deserted streets at Indianapolis 500-speed, serenading the town with his radio. We came to a screeching halt at the terminal and I paid him the RP30,000 agreed upon. He waited while we got our bags, and continued to wait for 20 minutes after we went into the terminal building. Could he have been expecting a tip?

The run-down "terminal" was actually a bar/restaurant with a ticket counter. The man in charge spoke good English. He told us the next ferry would be along in half-an-hour, and began to work on our accommodations. "Surely dignified people like you won't want to stay in a dump -- you will want a hotel suited to your station in life. You will want a full bath in the room with hot and cold water, a hotel with the best restaurant."

We changed the subject to a discussion about transportation back to Medan at the end of our stay. The price for his cab would be RP85,000 (US$42.50), reservation required. We refused politely, but he continued, "Medan has 1,000 cabs. We have only three. If you don't reserve, there may be no cab when you want to leave." The point was well taken. After seeing Parapat, even at breakneck speed, we decided we didn't want to be stuck there even for one night. He wanted his money up front. I've been to Indonesia before and found that they stick to their word when an agreement is made. We paid him and he gave us a receipt without our asking. Our next plan was to ferry over to the island and visit several hotels before selecting one. "The boat will drop you at any hotel, but you must choose one now," he told us. Our new "driver" said that the best hotel on the island was Toledo I, RP60,000 (US$30) a night for two. We took it. He called and made the reservation, and didn't balk when we told him we would pay at the hotel.

Young Captain
The captain of the ferry looked about 15 years old and his assistant was younger. The boat was obviously older than both their ages combined. After a half-an-hour "cruise" that included dropping off two other passengers, the first mate came to us with a proposition. The walkways to the front of the boat were 18 inches wide and there was no guardrail -- easy to slip into the water. He would carry our bags onto the dock. The captain joined in the discussion while the boat ran unattended. After gruelling negotiations -- never mind that we were perfectly capable of carrying our own bags -- we settled at RP200 (US10 cents) each. The boat left us at Toledo II. After looking at the rooms we walked the half-mile to Toledo I, the staff trailing with our bags.

The hotel's architecture is Batak and stunning to look at, but there are the stairs -- stairs up from Toledo I and back down to the Toledo II -- stairs down from the lobby to the lake, and more stairs to the room. We entered a nicely appointed room with a beautiful view of the lake, no phone, no TV, no radio, but there was hot water. Amenities included several boat docks, jet-skis for rent, a large restaurant with inside and patio dining, a very small concession shop and an auditorium for evening entertainment. The only guests were ourselves, a Japanese tour group and a few Europeans.

R&R
The next few days were spent relaxing, eating and lounging. In the evenings we enjoyed the staff's performances of singing, dancing, magic, juggling and so forth. A cab to nearby Tomok cost a few well-spent dollars. The little town has streets lined with shops offering some excellent bargains, and it is home to the Tomb of King Sidabatu.

King Sidabatu was one of the last animist kings before the arrival of Christianity. He is inside an above-ground, weathered, sculpted, stone crypt that faces three rows of engraved, grey stone benches. Behind the benches is a huge tree with roots that gnarl and wind above the ground and under the benches. It is an eerie monochromatic scene of grey, with the deep green of the jungle behind it, and the softer green of the mold growing over the crypt. It is the perfect setting for a tale from the Twilight Zone. Be sure to save time for looking at the merchandise in the stands, and remember they're willing to deal.

Our stay at Lake Toba was peaceful, relaxing, and a joy to the eyes and the soul. The third-world at its best -- in the middle of nowhere. When we returned to Parapat our new driver recognized us immediately. He was waiting with a new van; it was roomy and comfortable. About four hours later he dropped us at our hotel in the city. Who could ask for anything more?

Courier Flight Details & Other Recommendations

In this day of high-speed transportation and global communication, it's difficult to "get away from it all." But, if you travel half-way around the world to a jungle island, climb to a lake high in the mountains of that island, and find an island in the middle of that lake -- you can get away. I did; it was Lake Toba.

My friend and I took courier flights on consecutive days from Los Angeles to Singapore for IBC. We continued on to Penang off the west coast of Malaysia, and then to Medan, Sumatra.

A seat on Malaysian Air from Singapore to Penang and Medan is US$222 roundtrip. These "triangle fares" can be purchased at the airline or any travel agency.

We stayed at the Toledo I, the best the island has to offer (Tuk-Tuk, Samosir Island, North Sumatra, Indonesia. Tel: 0625-41181. Rates: US$27 for singles, $30 for doubles). The hotel-restaurant is good, meals are US$3-$4. Toledo II, just down the road, has doubles for $20, and at the south end of Tuk-Tuk is a hotel called Carolinas -- an old and popular establishment where rooms range from US$5 to $20. There are at least 40 other places with varied rates in between. Some charge as little as US$2 a night.

For more information on Tuk-Tuk, Lake Toba or Indonesia, contact the Indonesian Tourist Office at 3457 Wilshire Blvd., #104, Los Angeles, CA 90010. Tel: (213) 387-2078.