Lake Toba

Another weekend away and back again...have I mentioned that this perfect city fills me with gloom, gloom, gloom. Yet it offers its perks...such as the possibility of thrilling weekend getways in some of the most exotic escapes in the world. This particular vacation was particularly therapeutic since I'm all but barred from dancing  for a while thanks to a pesky ankle injury.

This long weekend we found ourselves in an erstwhile cannibal inhabited island in the middle of a super-volcanic lake. Samosir island is larger than the whole of Singapore and is a pristine (freshwater) island paradise. 

If I had a bucket list, I'd tick out swimming in a sixteen thousand foot deep volcanic lake. (To help gauge just how deep that is, consider that a couple of weeks ago, I happened to be at the Indo-China border in the north eastern Himalayas, in the teeth chattering, finger numbing, driving snow and that was 14 thousand feet above sea level.) Naturally, I only ventured so many meters into the water as my signature 'drowning frog stroke' could manage, but it is a personal victory, nevertheless. (Unfortunately, I do not have a bucket list. Now that I'm twenty five and over the hill, perhaps its time to get down to it. Anyway, I digress)

This was our backyard. 

Food is cheap (though lacking in variety) and apart from chilling with a book by the lake, or plunging into its dark blue depths, Toba has ample provision for recreation of  the psychedelic kind, if you're into that sort of thing. Potential for adventure and eco tourism remains sadly untapped, but the plush natural beauty and the slow pace of the place kind of lulls you into a most deliciously restful experience. ( On another note, I must complain about the severe dearth of Teh Si, which is the Bahasa term for the kind of tea most closely resembling the Nair-tea-stall kind -- evaoprated not condensed milk please!. This caused my highly addicted tea-drinking sensibilities great distress but the chocolate-coconut-banana pancakes were to swoon for and sort of made up for the lack of chai.)

The locals, who run most of the hospitality establishments around the lake, are descendants of the Batak; they are friendly, chatty and exceedingly comely, with  the radiant complexion and toned physiques of those who have a crystal clear lake to swim in everyday (ok maybe not everyone, but sufficient enough in number to add to the already much agreeable scenery. ) So its all the more hard to imagine that their ancestors used to eat raw, those people convicted of a very specific set of offenses- murder, treason, sex offenses and theft. Allow me to elaborate.

The drill proceeded as such; the accused would be tried by tribal elders in the presence of the whole community and if found guilty, would be led to the slaughter pole, hands and feet bound by the executioner, who would then proceed to slash up the offender all over, rub salt, lemon chilly and garlic all over his wounds for good measure. Following this, his head would be chopped off, body gutted and then fed to king, members of the tribunal and the viewing public. This much is true, so far as I can tell; however, there are plenty of fanciful stories of the Bataks being barbaric man-eaters, who just eat human flesh for pleasure. These are myths of yore, often willfully circulated by the Batak themselves to frighten away invaders and other unwelcome visitors; ritual cannibalism for the Bataks was the end of a closely monitored judicial process. Interestingly the salt, red pepper and lemons had to be provided by the relatives of the victim as a sign that they accepted the verdict of the community and were not thinking of revenge. Anyway, this grisly practice ended with the advent of the European missionaries (wiping out a lot more than just the grisly practices). 

A ritual Batak dance performance, reenacted for the benefit of tourists.

Of late, Lake Toba seems to have waned in popularity as a tourist destination, due  to a series of unfortunate circumstances, beginning with the Bali bombings of 2002, which while causing tourism in Indonesia to plummet in general, also tightened visa regulations, encouraging backpackers to spend the precious 30 days allowed by the on-arrival visa in more accessible places (you have to drive about 5 hours from the nearest airport in Medan to get here). But  if you're looking to get away from it all, its particularly worth it, since unlike Bali or Krabi, this place isn't crawling with tourists. 

So as you might gather, this was one of those benign holidays where we pampered the senses and indulged in some mild adventure- nothing life changing, but that was hardly the point. Most of all this trip was about spending time with the closest of  friends- its been seven years and its the end of an era...but we have pictures!