Day 1

My first long haul flight. Flying with Emirates was an unexpected luxurious experience in which I'm not used to at all. Regular visits from a beautiful air hostess garbed in traditional Arabic formals, serving a selection of beverages, my poison of choice being the 47% beefeater gin, meant we was drunk very quickly. Fortunately a feast of good quality food followed to soak up some alcohol.

On the second flight, Dubai to Jakarta, I was seated next to a young lady wearing a burka, who looked least impressed to be sitting next to me. She spent the majority of the flight with her arms crossed staring into the back of the chair in front. As I took pleasure playing with the touchscreen smart TV, we shared few bonding experiences as our arms brushed on occasion. Towards the end of the flight she flew a white flag in the form of an offer of a mento. I made my first friend.

Finally arriving in Jakarta, Indonesia I was rewarded with my first passport stamp. Running on 35 hours with next to no sleep, it was hard to keep the nerves at bay. As we left the airport we was greeted by unbearable heat and a welcoming committee of honking horns, taxi drivers and a rabble of Indonesian dialogue, the horns soon become the soundtrack of our trip.

We flagged down a licenced taxi and bundled inside. The nerves and tiredness peaked as we drove through Jakarta. Ludacris traffic, Children riding mopeds, slums and poverty in all directions, we were terrified the taxi driver would kick us out at any moment. Fortunately the centre of the city was a lot less threatening; our hotel was very nice for the huge price of £8 each.

Day 2

With a fresh night’s sleep we felt rejuvenated and ready to brave the streets. We'd heard rumours of an infamous street market in an area called Glodok, which was said to sell tropical pets, such as monkeys and all other kinds of strange goods. Armed with a map of Jakarta we took to the streets by foot in hope of finding our own way there.

Leaving the main roads to find shortcuts through the labyrinth of alleyways, from all directions we was greeted with cheers of "Halo mister, how are you?". We stumbled down alleys of open sewers, mountain rubbish piles and countless street cats, both alive and dead, hurrying through the intimidating alleyways of the slums, an extremely friendly welcome from all we met on the way.

We didn't manage to find the market in the end. Although we entered a warehouse in which seemed to be the headquarters of international DVD pirating. Unfortunately we were sternly advised not to take pictures at the door. We ended the day with a hearty meal from what seemed to be a pretty classy restaurant, paying about 42,000rp (£7) each for starters, main and alcohol, frequent thunder claps as a flash storm graced the busy streets outside.

City wildlife

Slum adventures

More city life

Happy shopper

Day 3

We awake today ready to take the 2 day journey that was set to take us to the mythical island of samosir, set deep within the volcanic crater lake of Toba... Unfortunately, Sarah soon discovered her sun stroke, nearly passing out in the hotel lobby, so we booked a further night in order to recover. Hit it too hard with the 6hr slum treck yesterday!

Late that evening Sarah was feeling better so we took a taxi to the airport for our 5am flight. Horrifyingly, our taxi driver must have had a long day, as he fell asleep at the wheel about 10 times during the journey it turned competitive as we tried to wake him before the honking commuters around us. This was borderline funny in the slow moving traffic jams, but as we hit the faster roads it wasn't so funny when he veered of the road, asleep, onto the hard shoulder.

We met our first fluent English speaking Indonesian man today, he was waiting for his family at the airport, and we took the opportunity to practice our very limited knowledge of the Indonesian language. It’s now about midnight that I'm writing this, the airport is shut so we are sitting outside, our plane leave at 5.55am... it’s going to be a long night.

Side note: We have seen 6 white people in total so far.

Anticipating the journey to come

4am Jakarta Airport

Day 4

We boarded the 5.55am flight to witness the sunrise pour golden light over waking Jakarta. As we neared the Sumatran mainland the silhouettes of volcanoes littered the horizon. We touched down in Medan at around 8am, a very different world from the countries capital we had just left. Once again having not slept last night, we hurried to meet our driver who was set to take us to Toba.

Our driver turned up in a bright orange Hawaiian shirt, rocking a pair of respectable shades. He seemed very enthusiastic to talk to us but the language barrier kept our conversations very limited. He told us that he lived at Toba and he was a Batak, (the tribe native to the island, used to be cannibals but now faithful Christians). He took us to a local homestay for breakfast in which we enjoyed banana pancakes and the famous Sumatran coffee. Banana pancakes were 10,000rp (70p).

After 5 hours and a numb rear end, it wasn't only the roadside monkeys that starred as we approached Lake Toba. The occupants of the lazy cafes and bars chorus’s "horas" and many shook our hands. Horus means welcome to the Batak people, as well as many other things. We caught the next ferry over to Tuk Tuk village in which dropped us to where we were to stay, Begas Bay, a collection of cottages and traditional Batak house.

Sleep deprived, we chugged towards the jetty, and we dodged naked Batak children as they ran the length of the pier, launching themselves into the lake. Chickens fled as our new friend Saba described the various fruits growing around us. Cocoa, coffee, pineapples and coconuts lined the path as we walked.

Our room was the bottom floor of the elegant Batak house seated directly in front of the lake. Bronzed travellers lounged around the bar area playing cards, chess or simply just chatting, filling the bar with a variety of accents and dialogues.

Myself and our driver Acen

Our room in the Batak house on Toba

The Batak house we stayed in

Parapat Port

Day 5

This morning we decided it was best to catch some sun in hope to disguise some of our distinguishable pale skin. We followed a jetty into the lake, spending the morning painting and reading. The distant sounds of elephants contended with the Batak singing morning hymes. The lake was saturated with life, blue carp, huge water snails and more Batak children bobbing around in the water.

We took a walk through the village to see what we could find. 3 bike mounted children took it upon themselves to harass us as we walked, taking it in turns to ride at Sarah, swerving at the last moment in hope to scare her. Tourist shops lined the narrow road selling books, bikes and food, most also sold magic mushrooms (legal in toba).

We ended the day with some traditional Batak singing and dancing. Drinking freshly squeeze fruit juice, the Bataks played guitars, banged drums and sang songs about drinking and stuff, we got roped in on occasion to have a little dance.

Sarah with the lake

Fat local kid paddles his canoe

Beautiful views

Traditional Batak singing

Day 6

Bad organisation means we hadn’t brought enough cash with us to the Island. After travelling here we have been left with about £35 each, which needs to cover our room, food and anything else, this has required serious budgeting.

We heard rumours of a cashpoint in the next village, Ambarita, a 5km walk away. We woke at 5.30am to avoid the heat of the day, and set off down a dusty track occupied with skinny chickens, shaggy dogs and sleepy locals. The sun rose over the island at around 6.30, gracing our walk with stunning views of the lake, glimpsing into the morning routine as locals went about tending to their livestock and cooking breakfast.

We passed the rumoured stone chairs of the Batak elders, a place in which ethics and politics was once debated by ancient Batak people. Arriving at the ATM, we found it didn’t accept any of our cards, leaving us still skint. No beers or party for us until we leave the island.

I paint another picture today. Water lily’s and a flower.

Day 7

We woke early again and left Tuk Tuk heading for the 'love' waterfall in which stretched the side of the mountain. Roads soon turned to paths, paths turned to tracks, until we was deep into the jungle with little idea where we was meant to be heading. Taking the lead I directed us further into the jungle, passing a snake of the side of the track, we scaled down a muddy ditch towards the river. Anti-climactic to say the least. A fast running river dotted with boulders. Aware we probably weren’t where we supposed to be, deep in the jungle, we headed back to safety.

back at the restaurant as we tucked into omelettes, chapatti and fresh fruit juice, we were informed that a big storm had cause the river to burst its banks, ruining the trail that tourists normally follow to the waterfall.

 After lunch we took a canoe out into the lake. I paddled it around the jetty towards, where Sarah was waiting to come aboard. Within seconds she had capsized the canoe, filling it with water, meaning we spent the next 15minutes bailing out water. Sarah wouldn't go in the canoe again, I spent the afternoon paddling about pretending I knew what I was doing.

I saw an old man in a canoe setting crayfish traps by the side of the lake. As a kid I had loved catching crabs and stuff by the sea and so I was jealous. I decided to try and make a trap from a couple of old bottles. It didn’t work and it broke... but I found a dead crayfish that I scooped from the water, a small personal success.

Side note: Toileting here is quite the experience. Squatting over a hole, creating luminous green and orange by-product as a result of ambitious eating. 

Sun rise over the lake

Chasing waterfalls

Jungle explorers

Ducks

Day 8

I'm sunburnt everywhere. I keep putting sun cream on but the sun is winning. It’s impossible to do anything without the piercing heat of the sun slowly roasting parts of my body.

I'm refusing to walk anywhere too far, my shoes are at the end of their life and I'm worried they'll die before we get a chance to get money out for new ones. So we spend the day by the lake drawing and reading. We witness a couple of German hunks braving the infamous canoe, to great amusement too all the occupants of the cafe on the side of the lake, screams of "NEIN" echo across the lake as the two German lads tragically capsize the canoe and land face first into lake. They then repeat this process several times.

I'm excited to continue our journey tomorrow. Lake Toba has been beautiful and welcoming, the culture and their way of life is charming and to be admired. But as outsiders we can only observe and smile from the side-lines as they desperately try to feed us, sell us something or simply encourage a conversation from us.

We're staying at a place called Bagus Bay, ran by a charming Batak mam called Saba. On arrival Saba had admired my £3.99 Matalan necklace, a metal tusk with tribal patterns. On the island it seems metal jewellery is a rare find, most being carved from coconut and wood. I gave him the necklace as a gift, in which he's worn proudly every day since. He'll tell his friends how it came from a distant land... Matalan. 

Sabar wears his new necklace

The sun sets over Danau Toba

Late night music, true Batak spirit

Day 9

On the road again. We say our goodbyes to the few friends we'd made at Toba, other travellers wish us luck as we leave. we walk the length of the jetty, boarding the ferry in which is to take us back to the mainland. Familiar feelings of nerves, excitement and anticipation turn our bellies as he boats nears the shore.

Today we have decided to brave public transport, both to save money and for the experience. We follow suite from a nearby American as he hails down an opelet (small bus taxi thing), we find our own to take us to a nearby ATM, and the journey costs us 2,000rp each (14p). To our relief the ATM graces us with money, a comforting feeling.

Finding the bus station that will take us to Medan, we clamber aboard a knackered looking bus, with a chicken in a box as a co-passenger. The 5 hour bus journey costs us 25,000rp (£1.75) each. The bus stops every 10 minutes for people to clamber on or off. In places parts of the road had collapsed, exposing sheers drops below. Landslides had caused dirt and logs to spew across the road. We was slowly becoming desensitised to the Indonesian lack of road safety.

When we reach Medan anarchy ascends upon us. Unsure of where we are meant to be, we stumble around the bus station saying "Banda Aceh" to anyone who cares to listen. Eventually we are hassled onto an Ojek (motorbike sidecar taxi), realistically a DIY tent on wheels. We weave through traffic as we desperately cling to our bags in fear of them flying from the cart. After 3 bus depots later, we take another mini bus to a further terminal, where we finally find our way onto an executive coach set for Banda Aceh, paying roughly 164,000rp (£10ish) per person for the 12hr journey.

Funky fresh pineapple 

Cockroach friends

Public busses

Ojek fun

Day 10

A long and bumpy night results in only a few hours of broken sleep. We arrive at Aceh and take an Ojek to the ferry port (Ojek chain breaks mid journey). After a short and uneventful voyage across the narrow sea we finally arrive at the famed Pulau Weh.

Immediately, we're approached by a chirpy man called Ahmed, he settles us a reasonable price to take us to Ibioh, the part of the island where we'll stay. Walking past all the air conditioned mini buses, our faces drop as we realise, once again, we're riding an ojek. It’s hard to describe the feeling of pushing 60 through the jungle, wind in our hair, sun on our backs, flies in our mouths, dodging goats and monkeys as they lie lazily in the road.

Our driver takes us to various homestays in the area, starting with his friends places first, despite our requests. We settle on a more expensive place, Olalla cottages, paying 110,000rp a night (£7.70). We have a big shack, literally on top of the ocean, (you could jump from our balcony into the sea), a hammock on our porch and a shower.

Pulau Wey is suggested the best snorkelling location in the whole of the Indian Ocean, our first priority is hiring snorkels. We pay 300,000rp (£21) for a snorkel and flippers each for the week, expensive, but entirely necessary.

The water is crystal clear. A sandy beach lines the island dotted with coral skeletons, seemingly alive as hundreds of hermit craps go about their business. I enjoy chasing these really speedy crabs around the beach, they disappear into little borrows in the sand. By knee depth, small corals dot the ocean floor. Soon we are snorkelling around watching parrot fish chew at the corals, shoals of coral dwellers flock to the side of rock formations. As we get more confident we head further out, we find a 'ledge', a sheer drop saturated with life and activity. A 4ft barracuda appears from the murky blue; we both lose our nerve and head back, a 2 minute swim to our hut. Our guide book says it’s not uncommon to see turtles, manta rays, lion fish, sharks and occasionally whale sharks. I'm excited for the next week!

As I'm writing this a family of monkeys land on our roof and start to feed on the branches in front of our shack. It turns ugly as the mums turn hostile towards us, we hide inside.

Our happy driver, Ahmed

Hermit crabs

View from our shack

Our shack on the beach

Day 11

Sarah was taken ill last night so spends the day in bed; I spend some time in my own company, snorkelling and reading. Today whilst snorkelling I find a huge moray eel, also spend some time following a big group of electric blue squid.

The monkeys turn up at our porch again about mid-afternoon. The big male enjoys sitting in the tree in front of us scratching his manhood. Two local dogs that had spent the day lounging on our porch jump in our defence, barking and running around the trees. The monkeys jump down and take swipes at the dogs, narrowly avoiding their snapping jaws.

There's lots of Muslims taking holidays on Wey. It’s to be expected as Indonesian population is 88% Muslim - but I'm still confused when I see a woman wearing a full burka comes swimming past, snorkelling in the sea. It seems unfair when the men stroll along in their shorts, shades and t-shirts, the women following hastily behind covered from head to toe.

Friendly lizard

Day 12

Once again Sarah was ill today, not terribly ill but enough to stop her dong anything too demanding. We snorkel again, taking the underwater camera to capture our acrobatics through the shoals of brightly coloured fish. We find a wreck of a small boat; I chase a baby barracuda for a while.

There are goats on the beach here. I'm particularly fond of goats; they are even more amusing when on the beach. I kind of consider them to be like dogs, but more stupid, with hooves. We saw a little Indonesian child playing with a goat on a string. I wish I had a goat as a child.

The local dogs have made their hang out on our porch. We've named the black one 'Jet', which seems quite fitting. Jet seems rather loyal; he follows us wherever we go. Today we walked through the jungle to the beach, Jet came too.

I paint my first picture on Wey today. It’s of the island opposite where we are staying, it’s called Pulau Rupiah. Rupiah has a sea garden somewhere near the island, a place particularly ripe with coral and sea life. We hope to visit there before we leave.

Baracuda and Sarahs bum

Serious

Day 13

Last night there was a big tropical storm. It’s not so appealing sleeping in a wooden shack, suspended 20ft above the sea, during a tropical storm. At one point I even packed my bag should we have to evacuate. Sarah slept soundly through the majority, whilst I lay here and worried.

Today I witnessed something quite peculiar. A small goat was suckling from a larger goat’s tite, whilst another mounted the smaller goat and started to have his way. Goats are strange creatures.

We walked to the beach where I painted a picture of the island. As we walked along the path, we had to run for cover as the monkeys decided to drop large, halfeaten fruits on us from high above the trees.

It rained for the majority of the day in which confined us to our room. We spent the day reading and talking. It’s quite nice being in a tropical storm out here, makes a change from the scorching sun we've become accustom to so far on this trip.

Day 14

Yet again, more rain. The rain here is quite charming though, sitting on the balcony of our little shack, disco music blaring from our little speaker, waves crashing on the rocks below us. I really hope we see some more sun before we leave Weh.

We swam across the channel to Pulau Rubiah today. We didn't get much chance to explore the island as the sun was setting, we was anxious about swimming back in the dark - beautiful tropical waters become quite sinister at night.

We met a genuine khzakstan girl traveller, she's not at all as I would have expected her. Fair skin and straw coloured hair. She rocked a pretty comical accent, supported by some very enthusiastic hand gestures, overall very enjoyable to talk to.

I want to drink. I've not had a chance to drink properly on this trip yet. On Toba we were skint, meaning we couldn't afford to drink. Pulau Weh is still under Sharia law, meaning alcohol is illegal. Although most bars still sell 'Bintang', Indonesian beer, it’s so expensive, 25,000rp (about £2), that's for a coke can sized beer. We still can’t afford a drink. I spotted 2litres of Havana dark rum at duty free for £22, its mine on the way home.

Deep sea explorers

Sup

Beautiful tropical storms

Sunrise over Rubiah

Day 15

Rain. We explored the village for more interesting places to eat. Sarah seems to have recovered and her appetite has slightly returned, so I didn't feel so guilty going foraging for good chow. At lunch we ate at a place called Iboih Inn, they had a good choice, I settled for freshly caught seafood noodles (27,000rp/£2) Sarah had chicken soup. This evening we visited a place that had homemade pasta, I had chicken gnocchi (30,000rph/£2.15), serious munch.

We sat with a big group of travellers and shared stories. We met an older couple from Poole, right near Bournemouth. Their kids had flown the nest, now they are travelling until the money runs out. They have been on the road for 3.5 months, through Thailand, Malaysia and Sumatra. Really inspiring people. It’s nice to finally be socialising with other English speaking folk.

Day 16

The day started as most days did, thick chocolate pancakes and strong Sumatran coffee. Although the weather was still not to be admired, we decided today was the day that we'd cross the sea to Pulau Rubiah and check out the famed sea garden. Battling a respectable current, and then making the small treck through the jungle to the far side of the island, we reached a small stretch of beach, donning our masks and fins; we plodded out into the sea.

The sea garden was a real treat. Although the grey, cloud covered skies failed to illuminate the corals and fish, it was pretty great. The ocean floor was littered with corals, as we followed the shoreline round; we spotted large starfish of all colours, dense shoals of fish and other coral dwellers. A party of red fish swam up to us inquisitively, taking nips at our skin, darting around us.

As we got deeper out to sea, a group of blue and yellow fish shot past us, followed by a large prehistoric shark looking thing. Its mouth hung open in a gormless way; Sarah swam closer cautiously and snapped a flick on her camera. Ugly looking thing.

Day 17

It’s good to be back on the road again. Shaken all night long by aggressive tropical storms, we decided today was the day we'd hit the road in search of the rain forest. After our daily dose of pancakes and coffee, we bundled into a car with 2 other Swiss travellers for company. There are many miserable faces at the ferry port; it seems the boats have not been running efficiently for days. We are informed that we might be able to catch a boat at 4pm... It’s now midday...

Catching the boat at 3.30, we are then loaded onto an ojek and we speed off to the Polangi bus terminal, where we will take the night bus to Medan. I convince Sarah to eat from the street restaurant, serving a large selection of seriously spicy seafood curries, prompted to select which dish we wanted, Sarah played it safe with an obvious prawn dish, I reached out for a red slushy pile that a later found out to be tuna, all washed down with Sumatran coffee. With no sign of cutlery, we sanitised in preparation to partake in the hands on approach to food consumption, fortunately I spotted some spoons on the far side of the hall. We paid 23,000rp (less than £2) for 2 curries and a coffee.

Our coach is set to leave at 9pm. We fight off the other harassing bus companies as they try to sell us tickets. I purchase a bag of dried treats, which I later find out to be dried banana, lightly salted. We sit and chew the salty, fruity goodness. I'm trying to get more involved with the traditional street snacks, rather than snacking on branded biscuits all the time.

Side note: I brought flip-flops on Pulau Weh due to my shoes falling apart; I paid 12,000rp (less than £1)! What I saved in Indonesian Rupiah, I've since paid for in blisters.

Second Side note: Banda Aceh bus terminals are infested with blind beggars. They'll get right in your face, singing lines of the Quran at you. At one point I was worried one would fall on top of me as I sat there innocently eating my dried banana. They were tripping over one another as they hobbled up and down our stationary coach. Me and Sarah ended up holding our breaths as they walked past in hope they wouldn't realise we was there.

Dried Banana

Lizards on the roof

Night bus adventures

Day 18

After another long and bumpy night, I stirred to the intrusive sound of a baby crying and an old lady throwing up aggressively into a plastic bag. The skies had cleared and the heat of Medan was obvious, it was nice to see the sun again. A short ojek ride took us to the Pinang Baris bus terminal, in which we negotiated a fare of 70,000rp (roughly £5) to take the two of us on the 3 hour drive to Bukit Lawang, pronounced "buk-kee la-waang", as Sarah was corrected.

Smugly sitting on our bus, we assumed we were on our way. How wrong we were... After circling Medan and the blistering heat for 45 minutes, looking for locals that might, on the off chance want a bus to Bukit Lewang, we parked up on a cross road and waited a further hour as our driver shouted "Buckie! Buckie!” to passers-by. Buskers climbed aboard the bus, some failed attempt at Indonesian punk rocker strummed away on his ukulele in our face. We didn't give him any money.

2 hours later, picking up people, packages and motorbikes constantly along the way, we finally pulled up to Bukit Lawang. By this point I was getting fed up. A guy jumped on the bus as we pulled up and introduced himself, we had been forewarned of the amount of tour guides that will befriend you and encourage you to take a treck with them - I didn't even have the effort to shake him off.

He offered to show us to the guest house in which we would stay, I gracefully accepted, declining all of his attempts to take a tour with him. Eventually he lost interest, pointed us in the right direction and them set off in search of his next victim. We approached the Rainforest Homestay, a charming place by the river; the small rooms were above the restaurant, looking over the fast flowing river towards the dense jungle.

Panoram of our house

Making friends

Identical twins

Jungle explorers