Today there's a bit less smoke coming out of my ears

I can’t believe I’m going to be traveling alone again!! It feels like I’ve been hanging out with Elias for weeks, when really it’s only been about 5 days. He’s been a good traveling companion, even if I have gotten a little frustrated with him at times, but that’s going to happen with anyone you travel with, especially if you’ve never met them before and you’re from such different backgrounds. But I’m sure he’s been wanting some time to himself and it will probably be good for me to be independent again, too.

But now I need to try to figure out what I’m doing next: Bukit Lawang or Banda Aceh (although I think it will all come down to which bus is available to me in Medan this afternoon). Bukit Lawang offers life in a jungle village for a day or two with a chance to see orangutans while Banda Aceh would provide relaxation, scuba diving, and a bit of island hopping. I’m behind schedule a bit, so it might make more sense to go straight to Banda Aceh, especially since I’m not sure how overly excited I am to be in the jungle (I’ve enjoyed not sweating like a pig for the last several days). And let’s not forget that I find most monkeys incredibly creepy, but who am I to turn down the chance at a new experience like this?

All right, I think I’m ready to talk about the second half of my motorbike ride yesterday. Oh, I was just seething at Elias and myself and the road and the people hollering at me and Lonely Planet and the cows and everything! I was in pain and petrified that I would break something on the bike or fall off and hurt myself or, even worse, fall off and hurt my camera. It also got annoying that he would just leave me behind and get almost a half-kilometer ahead of me, like he was just leaving me to my doom.  At first, avoiding the potholes, piles of loose rocks and sudden drop-offs was a bit like a game (How Quickly Can You Swerve?), but I was getting madder and madder because I wasn’t able to appreciate the absolutely beautiful scenery around me. Elias compared it to the foothills of the Swiss Alps, but all I noticed was what the pavement looked like because I didn't dare lift my eyes off of it for fear of yet another crash.  This photo really doesn't do it justice.

At one point, I was just completely fed up and couldn’t go any further without at least complaining about it. I hollered at Elias to stop, came up next to him, bounced over a giant rock and promptly fell over into him. From that point forward I believe our exact conversation went something like this:

Elias: Are you all right?
Lauren: (picking my bike up) No, I am not all right! I’m getting really tired of this!
E: Well, just calm down.
L: Oh, come on, let me be upset for like two minutes. This is ridiculous!
E: No, calm down.
L: Trust me, this is as calm as I can get right now. Do you really think this road will get us out of here?
E: Don’t worry so much. We’re--
L: That doesn’t answer my question. Do you really think this road will get us out of here?
E: Well, it’s going down the hill so it will be fine.
L: God, this is just so ridiculous.
E: Look, the next time we see someone we’ll stop and ask them properly, okay?
L: (back on my motorbike, in an obviously fake, controlled tone) Can we get out of here, please?
E: We’re not leaving until you’re ready.
L: Until I’m ready? Don’t talk to me like I’m a child! I’m fine.
E: Well, behave differently, please.
L: Man, you sound like my father. Fine. I’m done. Let’s just go.

And I basically said next to nothing after that for about 3 hours. He got a lot of ‘yep’ and ‘nope’ and ‘uh-huh’ and ‘I don’t know’. Anyone who knows me well or has seen me ticked off will recognize this instantly, I’m sorry to say. But anyone who knows me really well or for a long time will know that I’ve grown to be a lot more patient and in control of my temper than I used to be. Not as much annoys me as it used to (thanks to my line of work, I guess), but to travel under difficult—read: cheap—circumstances in countries that don’t have luxuries like paved roads you should really have the patience of a saint, or as close to that as you can get. Also, I’m Irish, thus part of the difficulty.

So yesterday was a bit difficult, but of course every day has problems of its own and today’s is the same as yesterday’s: transportation.

One thing you must know about travel in Asia is that nothing is scheduled. No, wait, let me modify that: nothing runs on a schedule even though one does exist. Everything leaves whenever the driver feels like it, which is typically after the vessel is filled to capacity (e.g. overflowing) and they’ve taken another fifteen minutes on top of that for lunch. Okay, so now we’re ready to go, right? Yeah, to go about two miles before we stop again so the driver can add petrol or piss by the side of the road or lose a few passengers (which we must then wait to get replacements for) or just admire the goat walking down the street. Who the hell knows what the reason is, just add another twenty minutes to the trip.

For example: the 9:45 ferries came at 9:30 and 9:55. The eleven o’clock bus rolled up to an invisible stop down the street around 11:20 but didn’t leave until 12:30.

And you can’t get upset about this because this is just how travel works in places where cars are for the wealthy, enclosed single-passenger taxis are for the rich white tourists, and public transit is used as much to ship vegetables and chickens as to transport people.

But since we did eventually get moving, here are some fun things we drove past: a statue (paper-mache?) of a soldier ready to stick you with the bayonet on his rifle (the sign below reads Welcome to Lake Toba), the Monkey Protection Area, a smashed-up car straight from a demolition derby put on a pedestal with skulls and crossbones beneath it, you know, stuff like that that makes driving across someplace even as beautiful as Wyoming a snooze-fest.  Iowa especially could do with a lot more skulls and crossbones, since lord knows they've already got the smashed up cars.

Anyway, I manage to befriend yet another foreign traveler, this time a Frenchmen in shorts my dad would have rocked back in high school (oh, god, the Indonesians found that absolutely hilarious) who mocked the, admittedly, large size of my pack. He's one of those crazy travelers who can fit everything in a carry-on bag and still travel for a year with no problems. I hate people like that because I want to be one of them so badly. Yeah, that's never going to happen.

By the time we arrived in Medan I had most definitely missed the bus to Bukit Lawang, but there were still plenty of overnight buses to Banda Aceh so I guess I know where I'm going next! And I will get there in an air-conditioned, non-smoking, full-sized, reserved in advance seat god damn it. Since I had a little time, Jean and I walked through the city's largest mosque, Mesjid Raya, which he of course got to see more of than I did, then went to Lonely Planet's 'die die must try' restaurant recommendation: Corner Cafe Raya. After the obligatory 30-minute wait all Asian restaurants tack on to the meal, I was presented with a truly beautiful chicken cutlet sandwich. It was a monster! Cheese, egg, tomato, mayo, lettuce, cucumber, sprouts, chicken, and double of everything for a double-decker sandwich! Even eating it with a fork and knife I made a mess, and the whole thing set me back about $3. Incredible. It made Jean's little cheese and tomato sandwich look like an amuse bouche.

And then I was whisked away to the bus station where, after extracting multiple promises that this bus would provide the conditions I required for an at least bearable trip, I boarded the bus to Banda Aceh.  The last row again, near the smoking compartment, but it went pleasantly unused and there was plenty of space for me to lay my chair back.  And the staff paid a lot of attention to me to make sure I was totally comfortable; it was the best bus service I'd seen in Indonesia.  I even got a blanket and a pillow for the trip!  What opulence!  So now Banda Aceh or bust!