Oh, yeah, baby, this is what vacation is all about

Hooray for bus rides that don't leave you feeling nauseous!  After a 12-hour ride, my two, relatively minor, complaints were that it was a bit chilly, even with a blanket, and that I couldn't really fall into a deep sleep because we were either making a pit stop or there were terrible music videos playing again (lots of virtuous Muslim boys and girls look longingly at each other, maybe working up the courage to throw some sand back and forth at the beach before really going for broke and holding hands as they walk!).  The evolution of Indonesian music ended at soft rock, and honestly I think it would have been worse if I'd known what they were saying. 

The bus arrived at what seemed to be the parking lot for a giant stadium and as soon as they saw a backpack come out from the storage compartment the touk-touk drivers immediately swarmed.  Their sales pitches were interesting: some tried to talk to me ('Where we go now, madam?'), some tried to roll their cart through the crowd ('I am coming!  Wait, I come, you ride!'), and some tried to grab my bag and walk off with it.  Now they're lucky I got as much sleep as I had the night before because that sort of thing annoys the shit out of me.  So holding my bag tightly, I let the games begin.  "Ferry?  Who goes to the ferry?" I started calling out.  Most of the men looked at each other in utterly apparent confusion, but a few said, "Yes, madam" and tried to grab my bag.  Pulling it even closer to myself, I said, "How much?"  There began a bit of bidding war between the dozen or so drivers all circled around me and while I didn't end up with the lowest quote, I went with someone that seemed to be polite and less aggressive and was happy to pay a little bit more for it.

Banda Aceh is looking really good these days; you can tell that a lot of money made it here for reconstruction after the 2004 tsunami.  Compared to Padang these buildings look practically state of the art, even if it's only due to the fact that they're complete.  My guide book says a lot of divers banded together to try to raise funds for this area, but it doesn't hurt that after the disaster the Islamic militants agreed to work together with the authorities in Jakarta to get this area back on its feet (the militants want Aceh to break away as its own state).  The relative peace continues to this day, but who's to say how long this will last?  While I was there I saw absolutely no signs of violence or militarization, but of course the time I spent there was quite limited because I was just heading through town to get to the ferry to Pulau Weh.

Twenty minutes or so after leaving the stadium I'm driven up to a long, flat building along the water that, like so many others, looks nearly brand new.  It's still quite early yet and there are very few customers in the waiting room, so I head to the cafe outside and have some coffee and cake.  One thing I have really come to appreciate on this vacation is the lovely and reassuring quiet that comes from being away from freeways, high-rises, trains, and all of the other trappings of a hyper-advanced country like Singapore.  There are days back home when I want to scream, "JUST FIVE MINUTES!  PLEASE, EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP FOR FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!!"  It's lovely here...to watch the sunrise or read a book and hear...nothing.  It's a kind of joy so underrated that I am no longer surprised thousands of children have ADHD.

The ferry is the super-fast variety and will get us to Pulau Weh, 'the island away', in about 30 to 40 minutes.  From the island's port I'll have to take a taxi to the beaches I'm interested in, Gapang and Iboih, on the far side of the island.  These are where I've heard you'll find the cheapest accomodations, the best diving, and the most expats, which has already begun as four of us found each other on the ferry.  So I end up sharing a taxi with two New Zealanders and a Brit who are heading to Gapang beach.  It's a beautiful drive through the hills of the island that all provide spectacular views, of course.  When we arrive, the tiny village of huts stretches out lazily along a tranquil stretch of rocky beach, but there is almost no one in sight, local or foreign.  To be honest, I just can't spend the next few days being the lone foreigner for curious villagers to talk to all the time, so I think I'll press on.

So the two Kiwi girls and I load ourselves back in the taxi and go on another ten to fifteen minutes to Iboih beach, which looks much more promising.  More people, more action, and more shops mean that there will probably be people to meet and talk with while I'm here.  Iboih is a bit separated, with one "main beach" and then another smaller beach cut off by a hill.  The smaller beach is in front of the Rubiah dive shop and is the only place foreign tourists are allowed to wear their regular bathing suits.  On the main beach men would have to cover their chests and the women would have to cover, well, everything!  The villagers I saw swimming there were definitely going in fully clothed, so I'm glad there aren't any problems with the current or they'd be toast. 

Now comes the surprisingly difficult task of finding a place to stay; it requires carrying your back up and down about 2 or 3 hills and across lots and lots and lots and lots of steps.  On the small beach we meet British tourist Matthew, who says he's staying at Nora's Bungalows, one of the oldest and biggest lodges on Iboih.  So I trudge further and further along with my pack, swatting massive mosquitos and wiping off the steady trickle of sweat.

Honestly, I have almost no photos of Pulau Weh simply because the whole time I was either sweating horribly, sleeping, diving, or just too freaking relaxed in my hammock or someplace to be bothered to take any.  This is one of those times that I was too sweaty and tired to care about photos.

But finally, at the end of the path, there is Nora's.  It looks like heaven on earth: a dozen bungalows are perched precariously on stilts, but the view it affords of the crystal clear green water is amazing and there's coral teeming right under the patio of the restaurant (just watch yourself getting down to the beach: these lava rocks are large and sharp!). 

So now that where I'm staying has been determined, the next thing to figure out is whether I'm going to be able to fit in a dive course and get my open water certification.  I saw a dive shop in Gapang that said they could do it in four days, but I just don't think I have that kind of time.  However, the dive shop here, Rubiah, said they could do it in three for 250 Euros.  Here are the main factors: it's expensive, but still cheaper than doing it back in Singapore; it will take 3 days, but that's really not that long at all; I can use this certification during my big trip; this is one of the best places to go diving in all of Asia.

Oh dear, what to do, what to do, what to--OF COURSE I'm going to do it!  Oh, man, I am seriously excited!  I can't believe that I'm going to be able to go scuba diving all over the world, and what's more I can't believe I didn't give any thought to getting certified when I first moved to Singapore.  But no matter, I'm taking care of it now.  How much do you think my crippling fear of sharks will cause a problem?  No, I can't let that stop me because I'm already signed up and have my first reading assignment for tonight!  Chapters 1 and 2 of my PADI book about the basic physics and gas laws of diving.  Piece of cake for a science teacher, right?  Here's hoping...

Just to make things interesting, I decide to go back to Gapang and read on the still, quiet beach I remember being there.  Immediately after I begin the walk in a tank top and shorts with a towel slung over my shoulder, a few men pass by on scooters and nearly crash from swinging their heads around so quickly to look backwards.  It's not clear at the moment what the problem is, but after another fifteen minutes of walking in the heat and thinking to myself, 'Hmm, I don't remember it being very far away.  I'm sure I'll be there soon,' I realize that I might not have been paying as close of attention as I thought I was during the trip in the taxi.  Fortunately, a young guy pulls up to me on his scooter and asks where I'm going.  As soon as I answer he says something in Bahasa to his friend riding behind him; the friend steps off the scooter and goes to sit down under a tree.  "Come, I take you.  Is much far, too far for walking."  Oh, dear, here's a dilemma: accept the ride and save myself possibly an hour's walk or stick to what is more culturally appropriate and say no because I'm not dressed correctly and I'd have to touch him as we rode.  I ask what about his friend, and my knight on shining scooter says, "Is okay, I come back for him much fast.  On motorbike is much fast, but walking is very long."  And with that I hop on and reach Gapang beach about 6 minutes later, although he's careful to drop me at the hill just before town so that he isn't seen driving in some crazy, loose white woman who no doubt has questionable morals.  "Is better to stop here, I think."  Whatever you say, buddy.

And reading here is indeed very pleasant.  I walk past the end of the beach and follow a trail through the trees to a large rock with a flat top.  I hunker down to read for a few hours and watch the waves roll softly over the shore.  Meanwhile birds wheel through a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze ruffles the palm leaves above my head.  This is the closest I have come to perfection while in Indonesia, and arguably while in southeast Asia.  So of course my camera is back in my cabin.  Of course.

I get back home much the same way I got to Gapang (only this time there's a gigantic lizard carcass in the road!!) and get the same reaction from my rescuer: "Uh, I go other way, so you leave here, yes?"  Sure, no problem, it's just interesting that five minutes later he goes roaring past me into Iboih village despite saying he was headed to another part of the island.  But that's fine with me, honestly; he helped me go a long way quickly and I don't want to step on anyone's religious toes.  And I'm home, ready for a quick dip in the lukewarm water before taking a bucket shower from a tank that I would rather not look in, but have to so I don't accidentally scoop up any bugs.

Man, have my comfort levels changed since I was a teenager.  High school Lauren would have gone all 3 weeks without a shower and college Lauren might not have fared much better; adult Lauren will put up with almost anything (by that I mean I will shower with bugs, but not eat them, so Thailand, keep them to yourself when I get there). 

Dinner, a vegetable chipati with fresh juice and fried rice, is out on the patio as the sun goes down and is just another hint of the wonderful things to come over the next few days.  I fall asleep under my patched mosquito net a very, very happy lady.