~ a walk along the lake right~
“Maninjau, 38km west of Bukittinggi... compared with Toba, the lake is quite small – 17km long, 8km wide and 480m deep in places – giving the true feeling of being enveloped in a crater. Maninjau is well set up for travellers but remains relatively unspoiled and peaceful” [Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring Lonely Planet Publications 2001].
Wed. March 10. A very vivid nightmare interrupts my blissful sleep here on the first night. It's about losing all data during the writing up stage of an MA thesis. In the relaxing environment here some stuff's bound to come to the surface. Maybe I'm worried about being robbed or something. Or losing all my journal and pfotos. The last time I did get robbed was when I was up at Tad Lo, the Bolaven Plateau, Central Lao. I was too drunk every day to care about my stuff.
As it happens I only lost a $50 DVD player and some other rather insignificant easily replaceable stuff I'd decided to carry. I only used the player once in 3 months on the road! Silly. But when you don't plan where you're going or what your going to do, you've gotta cover as many possibilities as you can carry! Talking about nightmares. Some people probably live them. One comes across people who in the west, would be confined to mental institutions. But here they're a part of the community. Although they draw some strange looks from passers-by the out of mind don't seem to be hidden away out of sight...and therefore out of our mind.
Overnight rain. It's a cloudy but clear day. The nearest mosques are quiet ones. Bugger. No nice morning dreams. Only and inquisitive girl next door whose friend is inordinately interested in my 'luxury' phone. It's just a very cheap Sony Ericsson. No alcohol was consumed on this premises last night. Rikki tells me lcoal tourists flock here in May school holidays. They pre-book his place. He says that they like to para-glide on the lake too. Lucky it's not May then. As we speak lakeside, a couple of dead fish float. “Maninjau... water.... no good” says Rikki. I try to ask him because of what. But he offers no clear answer except to say that the water is no good again.
He probably means from human waste. There are no big hotels here yet although there are some small, boutique up-market, modern ones. Not exclusive and not so expensive. A room at the one I visited yesterday is currently Rp.200k. per night. Later I observed more dead fish floating in the lake. And on it's far side slips and landslides can be seen. I'm told the recent Padang earthquake is the cause of those.
In the mid-morning I recharge my phone again. Then off I go for a walk. I don't see another traveler all day. I head back up to the road that circles the lake. I hang a right and back towards the intersection at the bottom of the 44 hairpin hill road out. I continue right through 'town' for about 5 kms. This lakeside road passes through very rural and picturesque settings. Yeah, there's wild monkeys around the lakeside too...and they're unused to human intrusion onto their territory. The rice fields change hue as the clouds gather with fish breaking the surface of ponds, interrupting beautiful reflections. The rain pelts down for a good hour. I take shelter under the veranda of a convenient cafe. I sit on the bench outside, smoking and drinking the strong, local coffee. The locals inside are quiet at first about this stranger.
It's a heavy rain shower all right...about midday. I shelter with the local residents who are avoiding getting soaked on their motorbikes. A young man arrives from the direction of their mosque further on round the lake. One of the older men tells me with an endearing grin, “Al Queda” gesturing to the new arrival! We all laugh. It's a joke that must be repeated all over the Muslim world. I've already made it clear that I'm not from the US. We from NZ don't care much for the American government's policies too. No joke. The rain abates briefly enough for me to continue. I don't turn back. I can see a beautiful and somewhat unusual wooden mosque from whence Mr. Bin L. came.
The mosques like the locals here, certainly do have their own character. Then I backtrack all the way to the Beach. The narrow road is busier now. I get back soaked. I'm absolutely buggered. The small backpack isn't waterproof after all. I am glad that I carried a large shopping plastic bag in which to put the laptop, phone, camera...and passport too. It's a great, comfortable little pack. An ideal size...bought in Saigon the night before I left. Cost me less than US$20.I can't complain...it's just not waterproof that's all. It's got these distinctive luminous stripes on it too. Good at night when walking along dark streets or riding a bike.
There are many old, wooden, colonial flavor houses. In this respect, Maninjau is very reminiscent of Irian Jaya; Biak in particular. There ten years ago now were old wooden buildings of the same age and with the same Dutch influence. Most were in the same state. Either well-maintained artifacts or just well-used ones. Some are well-looked after. Others are falling apart while sporting satellite dishes. Here too, gasoline drums roadside. Probably I take the similarity too far when I seem to observe that some of the local people look very Papuan. I again have noticed the presence of trans-migrants but not many such as the friendly, attractive woman probably in her early 40s who cooks me tea...soto ayam this evening. She's from Surabaya.