And all valuable journeys eventually reach their destinations / discoveries ...

Sumatra surpassed all expectations. I didn't think one island could possibly have so much nature to offer (jungle, forests, crater lakes, rain, and fresh air). Well, I was wrong.

Since the clock is ticking down for the big blast off, I'm gonna try to distill this down to a crisp essence of my week in Indonesia (to which Sumatra belongs).

The heavy rains of the north Sumatra jungle, just a few hundred meters from the wild orang-utans of the Gunung Leuser National Park, produced a patter on the tin roof of my "wisma" (i.e., guesthouse). The phenomenon was reminiscent my place at Ekukhanyeni School in Swaziland. Hard as the rains were, it was a comforting sound.

I flew from Singapore south across the equator to Padang, on central Sumatra's west coast last weekend. Quickly caught a public bus for a couple of hours north to Bukittinggi, an old Dutch fortress town up in the mountains. Yes, Indonesia was a Dutch colony until 1949. The air is brisk and the water clear in the island's highlands, and Bukittinggi was certainly no exception. (After India, I'll never take fresh air and clear water for granted again!) The town lies beside the famous Sianok canyon and a set of 'panoramic' gardens overlooking the canyon, today, a local park. There is also a set of Japanese caves which were used to protect her conquering soldiers during WWII. These can be visited at the same park. In addition, Bukittinggi has a quaint cultural museum in a traditional west Sumatran residence. [I won't mention the conditions for the animals at the adjacent zoo. :-( ] Nonetheless, visiting Bukittinggi was a good way to begin to unwind from the intensity---and density---of India. That night in Bukittinggi, I also caught a performance of a dozen traditional Sumatran dances at the local "performing arts" center. It was well worth the investment as the dancers and musicians were excellent!

It's also worth mentioning that the Indonesians have evidently many fewer cultural taboos which govern their behavior. As a result, they appear to wear many fewer layers of "masks" than, say, the Chinese, and even, I suppose, the Indians. School children would love to come up and try to practice their English (which was never a colonial language here). And even adults, all in good cheer, would invite travelers like myself to become a part their family photos during their picnics or park visits(!). No, they weren't drinking the local beer! Quite a change from what we experienced in that nation just across the Bay of Bengal.

Lake Maninjau, Sumatra, Rice Paddies	Traditional Indonesian Residence beside Lake Maninjau

The next day I spent at nearby (crater) Lake Maninjau. Having borrowed a dugout canoe, I observed the chores of the fishermen along the shores of the lake; as well, I studied the activities of the local homesteads found up and down the lake. When the fishermen praised my canoeing skills, I had a hard time explaining to them that in Minnesota, a canoe is practically a man's best friend. ;-) Here again the people struck me as exceedingly good natured and open hearted. [In some respects, I think they found the reality of foreign visitors somewhat reassuring, given that violence is on the rise---on the other islands---as the country moves toward a major mid-year national election (with no less than 40+ certified political parties to participate).]

A 16 hour non-AC, non-express bus ride followed, between Bukittinggi and Parapat, on Lake Toba (the world's largest volcanic lake). The driver threw in a collision with a motorbike and a flat tire on a steep, winding mountain slope just to keep some of us on our toes (or, as we say in the trade, "just for shits and giggles"). He succeeded, which is why I had one of the best sleeps of the trip, the night after, in a great lakeside room far from the madding crown of Parapat's town center (and the loads of high school students who were there for their school break). This lake, Lake Toba, is one of the major drawing cards of northern Sumatra, and a weekend escape point for hordes of city dwellers from nearby Medan (the island's largest metropolis). That's why I felt fortunate for having visited the lake mid-week. I will tell you about "Saint Therese of Parapat" in a future account ...

After just having spent 16 hours on that hellish bus ride from Bukittinggi, the one which included the collision with a motorcycle and a flat tire on the steep mountain turn, I was not expecting miracles upon my late afternoon arrival in Parapat. Parapat was situated on the shores of central Lake Toba, and was known as an escape destination for weekenders coming from nearby Medan. As I stepped off the bus late this Thursday afternoon, it began to rain. In a tropical town like this, when it rains, it's gotta pour, I thought. Fortunately for me, however, this time it remained only a drizzle.

My first stop was at the tourist kiosk under one of the town's large welcoming gateways. There I met a woman who introduced herself as 'Theresa.' When I commented on the unusualness of her name (seeing as we were in a predominantly Muslim country), she replied by saying, "That's because I'm a Christian." I noticed that Theresa was of Chinese extraction, which helped me understand, since I'd read that a higher percentage of the native Malay people in Indonesia are Muslim. By contrast, those with Chinese roots, tend to be Christian. Before long, I was explaining how I was looking for a 'tourist bus' that was leaving for Berastagi---today! She diplomatically told me that she wasn't sure that was possible. Within no time, however, she was flagging down a local taxi-van and taking us to a local travel office. What struck me was that she paid for the ride for both of us, despite my protests to the contrary. "No more buses today," they uttered. After being short with them on how I could find my own accommodation, the next thing I knew Theresa and I were cruising the town in another bus-taxi towards another travel office. And again Theresa beat me to the punch with the fare. This travel office was a bit more optimistic about finding what I wanted, albeit the next morning. Theresa and I parted ways here, but not before she pointed out the bank with the ATM that I was looking for, and telling me, with a striking smile, that it was her pleasure to serve visitors like me in Parapat.

It occurred to me that this woman went out of her way big time for me, I a measly budget traveler with a small red backpack. In India, I recalled having to convince some government tourist office employees that it was in their interest to assist us! Theresa was a veritable saint (and, I might add, in close competition with one Mohan of the Goverdhan Guest House in Fatephur Sikri, Uttar Pradesh, India! That's some company!)

The next day I joined 6 Brits and a German as we combined forces and hired a smaller, gentler "tourist bus" to take us to the former Dutch hill station town of Berastagi, farther north still. More clean, crisp, cool air can be found here, as well as a superb central fruit market. As I was negotiating purchases of half-kilos of passion fruit and papayas, some of the women asked me where the woman in my life was, to which I responded by showing them a photo of Bobbi beside Lake Superior. It was curious how interested they were. They then proceeded to tell me how lucky I was. Sometimes it takes the perspectives of others to open our own eyes a bit, doesn't it?

Some of the same group of Brits and I carried on to Bukit Luwang, higher still in the jungle-covered mountains of the north, on the fringe of Gunung Leuser National Park. The park contains Indonesia's second largest population of wild orang-utans, roughly 2000 in all, some which can actually be seen down by the village's river in the morning, observing the peculiar phenomenon which takes place on the other side: tourists and, in general, other Euro-freaks. From nearly the moment we arrived, the skies opened up with rain. I tried to imagine what an orang-utan in the wild jungles would do to keep himself or herself dry under such an onslaught. They must know where the big leaves are ... I did see several orang-utans during the week, but ironically, not at the World Wildlife Fund-supported rehabilitation" center at the park's gate (which is designed for orang-utans who are being released back into the wild from captivity).

Well, I said I'd keep this short, so I will spare you the details of my whirl wind visit to metropolitan Medan, en route to the airport. All I will say is that (in reply to those of you who have taken my quiz on the world's 15 one-million+ cities beginning with the letter 'M'), I fully attest to the fact that Medan does indeed have at least one million inhabitants---more like 5 or 6 million! (Madras, as you will recall, gentle reader, was certified at the outset of this trip as another 5-6 million 'M' town).

I will look forward to communicating with many of you more directly next week. I gain a day tomorrow as I cross back over the International dateline, so although I leave Singapore at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, March 6th and arrive in Minneapolis at 11:00 a.m. the same morning, there will be an extra 24 hours sandwiched in there somewhere. Translation: travel dues have to be paid once more. Somehow I don't think it will be more fatiguing than that steamy 16 hour bus ride to Lake Toba---on some pretty horrendous one-lane roads, I might add.