We arrive in Merida after a pain-free drive on near empty roads thorugh central Yucatan. Finding our home for the next week is not as challenging as it might have been before sat nav: Merida is laid out on a grid system and the streets seem to have alternate one-way systems. We can already see that this low-rise city with its colourful buildings is going to fun!
The last stop on our Grand tour is Florence, where our old university friend Debbie has lived since 1983! We only have two nights and one full day, with an afternoon and a morning on either side. Our fast train from Venice to Florence delivers us safely and we find the left luggage lockers before we sprint down to our rendezvous with Debbie, who has volunteered to whizz us round the Uffizi. On the way she poses with Hil outside one of her former employer’s buildings, Ferragamo!
The mini bus ride to Venice is pretty straightforward and only Euros 30 (aside from a terrible accident which slows us up as soon as wee arrived in Italy|) – hop on, hop off! We are deposited in Tronchetto and find a vaporetto that takes us to San Marco, where it is a short walk to the delightful Hotel Flora. Down a side street, it was a former palazzo and is set around a leafy courtyard where we breakfast each morning. Our room is tiny (servants’ quarters we guess) but it is ‘location, location, location’. After a couple of yummy Venetian G & Ts we set off for dinner via La Fenice, where there are elegantly clad ladies and gents enjoying some sort of performance, taking a breath in the interval, to the restaurant Ai Mercanti, which I strongly recommend.
The ‘Boys’ – four men in their late sixties – are off on their travels again. This time they are walking the Juliana Trail in Slovenia. So two of us ‘girls’ decide to come along for part of the ride – to Ljubljana and Bled, before going off on our version of the Grand Tour, to Venice and Florence.
We arrive at the Tuk Tuk Timbal Bungalows, right on the lake-front, where we are to spend the final three nights of our trip. Some are in traditional style but our chalet is large and modern and facing the water, with a couple of comfy arm chairs where we can read and watch the sunset with a beer! Simple but restful.
Read more: Chop, chop, yum, yum: Batak culture on Samosir island, Lake Toba
As we’ve been car-bound all day, we walk up the steep incline to the main road until we get to Joe’s, recommended on the various websites, for dinner. It’s dead despite being Saturday night, Mrs Joe rather annoyed at being dragged away from the Korean soap opera she’s watching with her neighbours. While she prepares our food, a motor bike drives straight through the restaurant to the back – this is Joe!
He sits down for dinner with us and describes his life. Despite being an uneducated jack-of-all trades, he has managed to put all of his six kids though university, and they working, scattered far and wide, from Batam (next to Singapore) to Taiwan and Papua. He is justifiably proud but says he’s now broke.
Even the churches are Batak style; here a man dries his rice in front of a family shrine
He is passionate about Batak Heritage and despairs of the arrogance of young people who deny being Batak Karo. He hates the jet skis and the young Indonesians who come and inhabit the new coffee house like the one opposite (where they asked us for our names as if we were in Starbucks!). Mind you I wasn’t too inspired by the food. Bony fish and tofu tasted off.
We bought a lovely piece of cloth woven by this women for the end of our bed; and this was a delicious steamed Sumatran fish with really hot samba, the national dish
The next day we visit a traditional Batak village, Huta Sillagan. We noticed on our drive in to Tuk Tuk village that there are still many of these dotted about the countryside, very much in use. This village has been preserved as a tourist attraction, but people still live in the houses, and local tombs are mostly Batak-style.
The houses are smaller than the Karo ones, but still support four families. They have the same white, red and black decoration which represents sky, the earth and the underworld. All the houses have four breasts for fertility and iguana motifs on either side of the door.
We have a hilarious guide, missing some teeth – and very small like most Batak. He claims to be a 16th generation descendent of the King. The village is special, it must have been the capital, as it has a unique court, comprising a set of stone chairs of varying sizes, including a small one for the accused. The stones are over 600 years old.
Ross enjoying being King for five minutes!
A convicted criminal was put in stocks in the jail for seven days, and was fed up so that he would be plump and tasty for eating because, dear reader, the Batak were cannibals until 300 years ago. It was only the arrival of a pair of missionaries that got them on the straight and narrow.
In the stocks! The stone at the rear is for flogging the prisoner; shown are replicas of the knife to cut him and the blindfold! Women criminals were sent into slavery
On the day of execution, the court moved to an adjacent set of chairs where there was also an executioner’s block. The prisoner was cut to see if he bled – if not, then he would be freed, as he obviously was protected by powerful sprits (little chance of anyone not bleeding I imagine!). After that they stripped him naked, cut him all over, and marinated his wounds with chilli and spices to make him really tasty (they ate the flesh raw so it would need curing); then they cut off the ears, tongue, took out his eyes and, finally, speared the sides and placed bowls all around to collect blood.
Some shots of Batak houses as we drove around, showing mixture of old and new embellishments!
From there he was blindfolded and moved to the executioner’s block and finally executed. The King would eat the heart, liver, brain and drink the blood to make him strong – the rest was a free for all, after the intestines were cleaned of poo! All this related with great gusto by our guide – ‘Chop chop, yum yum’!
Many of the tourists here are from other parts of Asia – we are most amused to see another Tik Tok film being made on a revolving stage, complete with bubbles, supplied especially for these occasions.
From here to Tomok market, home to the usual stalls of tat, but where we also see spontaneous Batak dancing. People do this at the weekends for fun.
Nearby are the tombs of the local kings, including the first ruler, King Sidabutar (top right, rear), who reigned during the second half of the 16th century and was the first king to land on island. The adjacent figures, set out rather like a chessboard, are one of the largest preserved collections in the region. Love the hippo! None left now of course…
The local museum, even more chaotic than in Beristagi, is in a Batak house. Again, the carvings have a real African feel to them.
Gerry is very keen we should try the local BBQ speciality so we head to BPK Lau Renun Tarigan, stopping for Mr Galli to buy his own lunch as, being a good Muslim, he doesn’t eat pork! As an aside, it is good to see both religions living happily side-by-side as Sumatra has had massive ethnic riots in recent history, and several people were killed and women raped. Some of these riots have been directed agains the Chinese/Buddhist community, which is seen as wealthy and thus a target. This is largely a Christian area, and the locals eat dog, but we are assured that the delicious pork with hot sauce and cassava leaves is just that!
A quick run up to the viewpoint – shame the weather’s not better – and then the official part of our tour is over and we spend the rest of our time reading, relaxing, taking short local walks and eating out, but mainly enjoying the tranquility of the Tuk Tuk Timbul Bungalows as we prepare for the long ride home…
We loved the Pagoda flowers in the garden; me inhabiting my Mermaid of Copenhagen look
Apropos of which we are stunned, after taking the early morning ferry back to mainland Sumatra, to find a massive motorway whisking us through the paddy fields back to where we started at Medan airport. Here we bid farewell to our jolly chaps.
Roll on, roll off…
It has really been a packed eight days and hugely enjoyable and stimulating, as travel to new destinations always is. We are so privileged to be able to do this, but so very aware also of the world imploding and feeling completely helpless. I guess there’s nothing wrong with taking pleasure where we can, but we can also continue to support causes we feel strongly about, financially if we can, as well as emotionally and vocally.
We travelled with Sumatra Adventure Holidays
If you enjoyed this blog, take a look at my new website Travels with my mother
If it sounds like an indulgence – it is. Every year we de-camp to our apartment in Champery to take advantage of emptier pistes (more about that later).
We arrive in Ternate to the sound of the Imam calling the faithful to prayer. It is the height of Ramadan and we are in the North Maluku archipelago where we are to board the Dewi Nusantara for the fourth time. We speed out past a huge green mosque where our three-masted home for the next few days is anchored. She really is a splendid vessel, 5 metres wide and 60m long. The staterooms are luxurious with huge king size beds and a spacious en-suite with piping hot water – just what’s needed after an hour-long dive.
The first port of call on our thrice-postponed diving trip to Raja Ampat is Singapore. Since my broken and dislocated shoulder at the end of December I have been doing my physio religiously every day and having acupuncture, cranial osteopathy and massage. I’ve brought with me three different wet suit combos to see what I can actually fit my shoulders into so I am well prepared. Continue reading
An outing to the top of the cable car towards the end of January
So here we are ten weeks after my injury. Time to take stock. I spent the whole of January in Switzerland looking longingly at the perfect snow and sunshine. Well, there was one week of blizzards where it was so cold that I hardly dared venture out.
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