As for the highway system, I can easily sum up Sumatra's rules of the road: madness. Our bus ride to our final destination was particularly eventful. To list: we left 1 hour late, Sumatra is known for chain smokers and smoking on the bus is allowed, we were sitting behind 3 prostitutes (the guy sitting next to Colin took one of them up on their offer at one of the rest stops), the bus filled with the smoke of burning rubber and then broke down for an hour, the driver must have had strong faith and a low estimation of human life as he literally took around 30 blind corners passing traffic while going over 90kms an hour on a tiny two lane highway (the only way we survived was that the oncoming traffic either stopped dead to let us pass or they drove off the road to avoid us). To save my back from a painful night I perched myself on a little ledge at the back of the bus (the seats didn't recline), and when the sun came up the first thing I saw was a mid-size bus that had been bullied off of the road and was sitting in the ditch...I don't know how many we passed in the darkness of the night.
We finally arrived in Siantar, where we caught a new bus which quickly broke down as well. We finally reached our destination: Danau Toba (Lake Toba), and I relaized that aside from a looming dread of the return trip, the journey had been worthwhile.
On one of our walks through the countryside, Colin and I met a village nurse. She'd only been working for 3 months, but had already delivered 20 babies. The population of the village she serviced was 500. That means that 8% of the women had given birth in the past 3 months...and that includes old women and children. Unbelievable. There were babies everywhere. 
Another day we took a scooter ride that began beautifully. As we cruised through stunning countryside I remember telling Colin that "this is the best day I've had since I came to Malaysia." After visiting a hot spring where we ran into 4 girls from our hostel, we all decided to head home by circumnavigating the island. That was at 2pm. 10 hours later we pulled in to our hostel, soaking wet and covered in mud. We were hit by a thunderstorm, cold weather and terrible roads. Two of the girls described it as the worst day of their lives. Actually, I rather enjoyed it; it felt a bit like being back on trip and dealing with a tough day gone wrong. Either way it was a good bonding experience, and the 6 of us stuck together for the rest of our stay.
On the way home from Toba we were forced to hang around Siantar for the day. It was an apparently unremarkable city until we went on a hike further and further away from the city center. We got an increadible view of Indonesian life. While we saw real poverty, it seemed to me that Indonesian kids grow up happier than Canadian kids. They were playful and curious, and they had so many friends and family around them all the time. I know life must get hard later on, but they seemed to be in the innocent bliss of childhood that William Blake wrote about during England's Industrial Revolution.
The way home took us back to Melaka - the old colonial city in Malaysia that I visited a month ago. Getting off of the ferry and passing through immigration, I felt like I was coming home. You can see from some of the photos of Melaka how relatively developed Malaysia is (or at least some parts of Malaysia). Melaka even has signs that tell you where to take photos - too funny!
I'm back at school now, tired, but glad to have seen Sumatra. Next time, I'm going to put in a little more time planning and a little less time on the bus.
ps - Here's a bit more detail from Colin's blog about that scooter trip...a fun read:
dear all.
i am safe from a one week adventure in Indonesia. One of my colleagues Dave from school and i ventured to the Sumatra one of the regions in Indonesia - the least visited and considered the most remote.
hari raya is a holiday celebrated here during the time of Ramadan, and as a result I had a week long holiday.. woohoo.
we followed word of mouth to a small christian town surrounding lake tabo. Once a tourist hub, this area is best described as 'empty'. An abundance of guesthouses, souvenir shops and restaurants wait, and have been waiting for many years, for tourists to come.
Talking to locals I discovered why this is the case.
1) visas for foreigners became more strict and short
2) tsunami
3) earthquake
4) Jakarta bombings
5) Bali bombings
I guess this would do it.
Let me assure you I have never felt safer. For real, this country rivals Cambodia and Laos for the friendliest people ever encountered. Everywhere I received genuine "HELLO" "WHERE ARE YOU GOING" - people just dying to use those few words of English they knew.
Indonesia is 1/3 as cheap as Malaysia, and Malaysia is 1/3 as cheap as Canada. You do the math and this is also reflective of 'development'. Once home in Malaysia I felt like I was in a VERY developed country - obviously this is not the case.
We ended up meeting 4 excellent female travellers. 2 from England, 1 from Germany and 1 from France. Following our unresearched ideas, they decided to go on an around island motorcycle trip with us. Oops. Starting out at 10 am we leisurely mounted our bikes. 2 of the girls had never been on a motorcycle. The scenery was perfect, new and so green. Sumatra is truly a gem. Stopping to take pictures of the rice patty fields, ostentatious Christian things (graves, monuments, crosses etc.), water buffalo, beautiful children playing outside, elders sitting roadside, the gorgeous lake tabo. The day could not have been more perfect... too perfect. Around 5pm we predicted that we must be approximately half way around the island. Every time we mentioned 'Tuk Tuk' to locals along the way, which is where our guesthouse was (our final destination) they pointed us back where we came from. When we continued forward they simply looked confused; we should have read deeper into their body language.
As the sun was going down we are stopping to snap pictures. The road had been perfectly paved, smooth and perfect for cruising. No need for panic.As the sun sets the girls are getting tired, and having trouble keeping up. Becky from England loses control and hits a bench, knocking over flower pots - getting back up unscathed yet discouraged; she wants to go back; her friends encourage her to continue as we are half-way anyways.
The road is getting worse and worse. My colleague Dave, confident as ever on a motorcycle, passing by the girls, reacts to them swerving, loses control and before crashing into a tree jumps off his bike. Luckily he isn't hurt. We continue on as I rub it in his face that he wiped out. As if once wasn't enough, we are passing bystanders waving, and out of nowhere a 'chicken crosses the road' and the colonel Dave ready to fry up this chicky, panics and swerves losing control. This time the outcome wasn't great. Dave being the tough guy he is, gets up, legs and arms bloody and dirty from the crash. Amazingly, his flip-flopped feet are ok and his hands are more of less fine. The cuts aren't deep and he says he can continue on.
The road is continually getting worse - deep potholes, unpaved, lacking civilization in the surroundings, and we have been climbing a mountain for a long time now - the temperature is lowering - and it .... starts to rain.
In southeast Asia when it rains it pours. The rain is too hard to control the bike. Stopping at the first house, or I should say shack, we are shooed away like ghosts by the lady inside. Fortunately the next structure is an abandoned barn. We all slip of our bikes and walk the mud into this dirty old barn - no flashlight. The rain continues and it is getting late. We are all hungry.
Once it lets up a little we decide to continue on. All of our tanks are approaching or already on 'empty' and gas stations do not exist out here. It is now dark and the terrain is treacherous. The mud has been sliding off the mountain. In parts the road is a pond and at times it is so slippery that driving on it is almost impossible. Becky, one of the first time cyclists, becomes frustrated and instead of breaking hits the gas, bike spins out from under her. She lies on the ground screaming. Once finished I explained some of the technical aspects of the bike (gears, gas, starting, breaking) and the importance of keeping a level head in this situation. We were all scared. The rain is not letting up. Coming down the mountain, without using gas the bike slides. Others had slight falls - the feeling of danger was high.
Most of us agreed that one of us would run out of gas soon. I was so cramped, all muscles continuously tensed from the cold. Two of the girls had been doubled up on a bike, and needing a break I took a second on my bike. From here she had to get off and on continuously if the sections of road was too bad or muddy for us to make it through with both of us riding. I literally had to drive with both feet out to support the tipping from a mud induced slip.
Finally after coming straight down this mudslide of a mountain, enduring the worst conditions, we encountered a somewhat decent section of road. I couldn't believe we were all still in one piece.
Arriving at midnight, a 14 hour bike trip was complete. A beer and then sleep.
Indonesia was a gem.
