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Sorry about the formatting on the next post. Blogger really isn't giving me a lot of options.

A Hike from Hell that Lead to Heaven: Part 1

Domestic tourism among college students seems to be quite popular in North Sumatra. I've hooked up with a group of students, many of whom are from the English department at North Sumatra University, who always seem to have something going on. I anticipate that the second half of my stay in Medan will be even more action packed, with more indoor soccer and more adventure. I admire that such large groups of students get together fairly often to enjoy their country, and with all it has to offer, as well as inexpensive public transportation, why wouldn't they? Once I get back to the States, I'll be excited to start taking more advantage of the travel destinations around where I live. The U.S. has a great deal to offer in the way of beautiful nature spots, and
I don't think that I've taken enough initiative to see them (at least certainly not the kind of initiative I see groups of college students taking here). Of course I've gone on yearly trips to Current River; I've been to Mammoth Cave a few times, but I'd like to make more day trips or weekend trips with groups of friends to sites I haven't been yet, even if they might seem plain or boring. The massive amount of fun i've been having exploring this country, has really sparked a curiosity in me to see what more my own home has to offer.

My New Year's trip with the group of students I mentioned above turned out to be one of the most memorable, exciting, dangerous, and pleasant trips I've ever been on. It was complete with just about every emotion I'm capable of feeling, and thanks to my wonderful new group of friends (who never worry about anything *see previous blog post*) any negative emotion I experienced was quickly blotted out by the constant smiles of eight other people.


Our journey began on January 30th at the campus of North Sumatra University, where I was introduced to most of the group for the first time. Pipi, who invited me, has become a good friend over the last few months, and I had already played indoor soccer with Jarod and Reja, but the rest of the crew I hadn't yet met. We organized all our bags, rolled up the matresses, collected some money for a group transportation fund, and we set off on foot to Jamin Ginting Street, where many buses head straight to Berastagi. Berastagi is a beautiful city and a well-known tourist spot, about an hour and a half away from our destination, Gunung Sinabung, an active volcano and one of the highest peaks in North Sumatra

On the bus ride to Berastagi, I sat next to Pipi and Noni – Noni whom I had only just met on campus. She studies English with Pipi and is quite fluent. Both girls are strong Muslims (Noni wears a head scarf), and both of them are extremely in tune with world events. We had some great conversation, and it was nice to sit down and just talk for a couple hours with some very sharp girls my age. This bus ride was a sure sign that a lot of entertaining chat and productive discussion was to come.

Our bus stopped at one of the larger traditional markets in Berastagi, where many different bus lines run through. It was already a familiar spot for me, so I knew we were about to stock up on the local fried goodies, gorengan, before we continued our journey. We had about 30 minutes to kill before we could board a smaller van, called an angkut, which would take us to the base of the mountain. So of course, the guitars began to emerge from their cases, and some of the guys played a few Indonesian tunes while we waited.

A van arrived, and our group of nine adventurers crammed into the back and sat on wooden benches, which stretched lengthwise on both sides of the viehicle. An angkut is about the size of a standard mini-van in the US, so you can imagine how nine people plus the driver would be a tight squeeze. And hence, you can also imagine that when seven others from a different group started to push their way in, a futile situation began to arise. This is the tragedy of public transportation in Indonesia because there are so many people, not enough buses, and each driver wants as much fair as he can get. So, even though it was physically impossible to get seven more people inside, the driver was unquestionably determined to take everyone to their respective destinations. And certainly the latecomers were equally as eager to get back to their homes, rather than wait another half an hour for another bus, which was probably going to be just as full.

I had previously admired the iron bars on the outside of bigger busses in this country, which line the windows from front to back. I had assumed that they were to serve the purpose of roll bars. And that very well could have been their original intention. Roads here twist and turn up and down mountains, conditions vary, and so does the weather, so it's not really anything special to see four-wheeled vehicles oriented in every imaginable way in the grass on the side of the roadway. However, these metal bars, which were most likely initially intended for safety, have fallen victim to the ingenuity of Indonesian drivers, who plan to get the most bang for their gasoline buck. The more people who can fit inside, or outside, means that the driver's gratuities go up for each subsequent trip. The conductor, who collects money from each passenger usually has a permanent spot, hanging on the outside of the bus, as to not occupy a valuable seat. He climbs like Spiderman from the front of the bus to the back, collecting money and using the metal bars as it tears down mountain switchbacks at uncomfortable speeds, while other buses do the exact same from the opposite direction. So, if the conductor can seemingly accomplish this feet safely on the outside of the bus, why shouldn't this exposed but precious space also be used for passengers?

After forcing in three extra people into our mini van, of course, the four remaining commuters were ushered to the roof, in a uniquely Indonesian procedure I like to call, “risking your fucking life.”

Arriving at the campsite later that evening with everyone in one piece was the first major accomplishment of the trip, and I was happy we were able to begin relaxing after the day's journey. We got all our bags in order, which had been serving as cushions for the lucky travelers on top, and we began to set up the tent. Our evening's events were to be comprised of eating rice and veggies with the gas stove Reja had brought and then playing cards until we fell asleep. The tent was a three-room mansion, suitable for probably 20 people. Reja had acquired it after refugees from the 2004 tsunami began to migrate either back to their homes or seek new lives in Medan. He'd gotten the tent for the equivalent of about $40, four times less than the one-person bivy sack I had brought with me.




January 31st was a day of total relaxation. Our plan was to climb the mountain at midnight before th new year, so that we could not only see the sunrise from the top the next morning, but also so that we could enjoy the festivities at the crowded campsite on the lake before setting off. I don't know if the gas stove was ever turned off that day. We were constantly cooking either rice, sardines, or veggies, or we were frying crunchy little cakes called kerupuk. It's a wonder how I didn't get more burned in the strong Indonesian sun, but it seemed like we played cards outside for hours, humiliating the loser by smearing ashes all over his or her face, and then making him run through the crowd to bang on a medal railing with a rock, only to draw hundreds of people's attention to his smudged appearance.

Later that afternoon, the mood of the trip went in a slightly different direction. Not that this next fact was ever threatening, or even something I had so much as slightly considered, but there's no denying that I was unique amidst a group of Muslims – informed, curious, and skeptical of American involvement on a world scale. I have had countless conversations about politics, current events, Christianity, Islam, American culture, corruption in Indonesia, the Middle East, etc., but I'd never been as challenged as when talking with Pipi, Noni, David, and Jarod inside Reja's tent.

Since I have been here, I've not only become inexpressibly more informed about Muslim views concerning international politics, but I have become extremely sympathetic. At the same time, however, I have become just as much more patriotic toward my own country. I'm certainly more moderate in my views than when I left for Indonesia, and I can confidently admit that there are certain policies of Greorge Bush's with which I agree. I hate the way the war has been waged in the Middle East, but I am not in total disagreement that something had to be done. Especially Noni and Pipi were asking me deliberately pointed questions, ones to which I had no good answer, but I know that we were able to help eachother understand more about each other's points of view.

Having been here for only a year and a half, I could never say that I know it all, but I do know a lot more about what's going on in the Muslim world, and the most unfortunate problem is that there is very little effort toward creating a mutual understanding. The misunderstandings are as simple as watching only CNN, FOX News, and The BBC, or only watching Al Jazeera, TransTV, GlobalTV, and reading the Jakarta Post. Media just isn't helping relations. Different and exaggerated sides of the story are being told on both ends, and having sat and talked with this group of people, for only an hour, elevated us all to an entirely new level of understanding. I could never exaggerate the impact or the importance of experiences like these because it's clear that this is the only way we're ever going to get the real story. An hour long conversation, where both parties show equal interest in the other's stance can do more good than I can describe.

No feelings were ever hurt during the conversation, but although emotions were controlled, they were very high. When tears began to form in my eyes, so did awkwardly stated jokes with intentions to make light of the situation. The realization that we'd started to go too far was humbling and relieving. I pretty much live for interactions like that, and although I was being tested to my core, I brought up just as many challenging issues for them too. Having friends that I can trust but who also hold vastly different opinions has been one of the most amazing parts of my experience here, and it will be nice to let these friendships really grow over the next many months. I feel that I got very close to everyone from that discussion. I know that they also got closer to me too.

As it began to get dark, we all started falling out. Of course, the previous night none of us got enough sleep, and everyone thought it best to nap before our midnight journey, summiting one of North Sumatra's most challenging peaks. The guitar came out once again, and most of us were lulled to sleep by a couple of the guys' acoustic versions of Indonesian classics and pop songs.