Day 33: Sardine Bomber

08/01/2016

With a smiling and a crying eye, we leave the island of Nias. I, however, represent the crying eye, while Gudi represents the laughing eye. I think she is quite happy that her life as a surfer bride is coming to an end, as it is too active for her to just watch and do nothing. We think - as often incorrectly - that today will be a comfortable and fast travel day. However, even the journey back to the airport is more than activating for me, as I have to constantly watch the driver in the rear-view mirror. This is not a quirk of mine, but a purely precautionary measure, as the driver is not active at all and I caught him several times at the beginning of the journey with half-closed or even briefly closed eyes. Unfortunately, his English is very limited, so it is not easy to convince him to go to a café. In the end, I succeed and I am more than relieved when this sleepwalking sandman somehow delivers us safely to Gunangsitoli Airport.

This provincial airport can be compared to a slightly enlarged bus stop. It seems that even the departure times are rather spontaneous. In fact, no one even considers it worth mentioning that we take off over an hour later than planned. The flight itself is a bit more turbulent than the outbound flight, but Gudi and her mood are much better than four days ago. This surprises me - to be honest - and earns my great respect. It is really impressive how one can overcome their fears in such a short time.

When the plane lands on the mainland of Sumatra (so to speak), we are firmly convinced that we have left most of today’s travel behind us.

With high spirits, we then board a shuttle bus that takes us from the airport to the bus station in Medan in a very comfortable way. And that's where it starts. The "bus" to the tourist metropolis Bukit Lawang, which we want to visit to see orangutans, is, let's say, very economically used - in terms of space. Twenty people, a baby, and all the luggage are cramped into the twelve-seater (according to Austrian standards). We are lucky and sit on a chair anchored in the floor, which has not been marked with the stomach contents of our predecessor. Neither sitting nor having a stable and unsoiled chair is a matter of course in this "means of transportation". Maybe that's why we have to pay four times the price, or maybe it's just the usual tourist rip-off. Normally, we don't put up with something like this, but sitting on the (last operating) bus and loading our luggage in the midst of a chaotic Indonesian metropolis makes it difficult to discuss, as the negotiation basis is simply catastrophic.

After hours of driving, during which my legs adapt to the spatial environment similar to how sardines in a can adapt to the can, we finally arrive. When we coincidentally and luckily meet the cousin of our hotel operator and he leads us to the accommodation (which is 15 minutes away from civilization - lucky, as we would not have been able to find it ourselves), our room has unfortunately already been given away. There are moments in life when you should just breathe resignedly - even if a Hulk-like outburst would seem much more appropriate.

Advantage of the disaster: we get a different, much cheaper room in the hotel opposite and can spend a night in a smelly, dirty room. Gudi is happy because we save five euros - who can blame her? I can!!

Gudi's glorious laws:

Even in a country where as Europeans we could actually be kings, she pinches every penny.

I only call her the penny-pincher, as she actually runs across the city for water bottles or coffee where five cents could be saved and gleefully - albeit truly from the heart - rejoices when she has saved a minimal amount of money once again. Some would call it stinginess - Gudi says: "Saving is my hobby!"