Indonesia 1: Where Time Stopped
* Pictures courtesy of Johann Annuar
Have you ever stepped into a place where you felt time stop? Where the figures on your watch/PDA/mobile phone were meaningless, where the days and nights were marked by the rising and setting of the sun? Where minutes and hours passed not by the creeping tick-tock of the hands of a clock, but by the clucking of chickens, the rustle of the wind, and the lapping of waves?
Down the infamous 44 hairpin turns that lead from the town of Bukit Tinggi, in the middle of Sumatra, to the village of Maninjau, is such a place.
Each hairpin turn seemed to raise a little more the curtain that covers this beautiful place, and when you reach the last turn, you would have passed a portal that brings you to a haven of peace and quiet. A layer of mist lightly covers the village when you enter, you see the paddy fields and Minangkabau-style houses through a hazy screen, almost as if this is a place in your dreams. Twisting and turning you go down into the crater, and the full panorama of Danau Maninjau (Lake Maninjau, in Bahasa Indonesia) slowly appears before you in all its subdued elegance.
There are several backpacker-style places to stay in, and we took the chance of "walking in" -- there must had been some providence at play here, for we did find a room despite this being New Year's eve season. The guest house we stayed in was rudimentary by many standards, but the hosts were gracious, the rooms were clean, the beds had sheets, and the local chickens were friendly. With a balcony outside that overlooked the crater walls circling the water, a lounging area that let us step directly into the lake for a refreshing dip, what more could we ask for?
We checked into the guest house in time for sunset. The clear lakewater quietly lapped against the steps leading down from the guest house, it was too good an invitation to turn down. Floating in the middle of the calm waters of a crater lake, created by Mother Nature's own fury and beautified by her soft touch, evident in the layers of clouds above, lined with whimsical silver edges. The lake was soothing and balmy, and as the waterline crept from my ankles to my thighs to my chest and finally to my neck, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the embrace of Maninjau until I was finally lost to its spell and enfolded in the arms of the crater walls that cut off the rest of the world from me.
Time and air and space in this place moved along its own rules. With only my head above water, I looked at the sun setting in the groove between two hills - the gentle "V" a natural nook for the sun to go to bed in. Purples, blues and pinks were alternatively mixing and matching into the most amazing profusion of colors - or was the humidity trapped within the crater walls playing games with my vision?
The crater walls were majestic hills, dark silhouettes under the sun, trimmed at the bottom with little villages, paddy fields and the occasional coconut trees. The water was rimmed with fish traps, kelongs, and little huts on stilts with boats lashed to them. The boats rocked gently on the water - lazily moving in a rhythm that was hypnotic and beautiful. I found myself treading water and breathing to the rocking of the boats, my movements unconsciously propelling me in a slow turn that let my senses drink in 360-degrees of Maninjau's beauty. I heard no sounds beyond my breath slowly hissing through my nostrils, my heartbeat echoing dully in my eardrums, the water trickling around my armpits and lapping around my chest. I was lost, and I didn't want to be found.
When my arms finally got tired and the slight chill in the air reminded me I was 800m above sea-level, I climbed out of the water and sat by the lounge to watch Maninjau go to sleep. Our cameras could do no justice to this place, but we tried our best - trying to capture moments when it seemed only right that we were there. When a little dragonfly, or a tiny flower, seemed to be the biggest star in this amazing interlude of nature's creation.
Hours may had been spent that night watching the lake, but time had no meaning to us then. I went to sleep that night already dreaming.
Go to Indonesia 2: Motorbike Happy
Have you ever stepped into a place where you felt time stop? Where the figures on your watch/PDA/mobile phone were meaningless, where the days and nights were marked by the rising and setting of the sun? Where minutes and hours passed not by the creeping tick-tock of the hands of a clock, but by the clucking of chickens, the rustle of the wind, and the lapping of waves?
Down the infamous 44 hairpin turns that lead from the town of Bukit Tinggi, in the middle of Sumatra, to the village of Maninjau, is such a place.
Each hairpin turn seemed to raise a little more the curtain that covers this beautiful place, and when you reach the last turn, you would have passed a portal that brings you to a haven of peace and quiet. A layer of mist lightly covers the village when you enter, you see the paddy fields and Minangkabau-style houses through a hazy screen, almost as if this is a place in your dreams. Twisting and turning you go down into the crater, and the full panorama of Danau Maninjau (Lake Maninjau, in Bahasa Indonesia) slowly appears before you in all its subdued elegance.
There are several backpacker-style places to stay in, and we took the chance of "walking in" -- there must had been some providence at play here, for we did find a room despite this being New Year's eve season. The guest house we stayed in was rudimentary by many standards, but the hosts were gracious, the rooms were clean, the beds had sheets, and the local chickens were friendly. With a balcony outside that overlooked the crater walls circling the water, a lounging area that let us step directly into the lake for a refreshing dip, what more could we ask for?
We checked into the guest house in time for sunset. The clear lakewater quietly lapped against the steps leading down from the guest house, it was too good an invitation to turn down. Floating in the middle of the calm waters of a crater lake, created by Mother Nature's own fury and beautified by her soft touch, evident in the layers of clouds above, lined with whimsical silver edges. The lake was soothing and balmy, and as the waterline crept from my ankles to my thighs to my chest and finally to my neck, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the embrace of Maninjau until I was finally lost to its spell and enfolded in the arms of the crater walls that cut off the rest of the world from me.
Time and air and space in this place moved along its own rules. With only my head above water, I looked at the sun setting in the groove between two hills - the gentle "V" a natural nook for the sun to go to bed in. Purples, blues and pinks were alternatively mixing and matching into the most amazing profusion of colors - or was the humidity trapped within the crater walls playing games with my vision?
The crater walls were majestic hills, dark silhouettes under the sun, trimmed at the bottom with little villages, paddy fields and the occasional coconut trees. The water was rimmed with fish traps, kelongs, and little huts on stilts with boats lashed to them. The boats rocked gently on the water - lazily moving in a rhythm that was hypnotic and beautiful. I found myself treading water and breathing to the rocking of the boats, my movements unconsciously propelling me in a slow turn that let my senses drink in 360-degrees of Maninjau's beauty. I heard no sounds beyond my breath slowly hissing through my nostrils, my heartbeat echoing dully in my eardrums, the water trickling around my armpits and lapping around my chest. I was lost, and I didn't want to be found.
When my arms finally got tired and the slight chill in the air reminded me I was 800m above sea-level, I climbed out of the water and sat by the lounge to watch Maninjau go to sleep. Our cameras could do no justice to this place, but we tried our best - trying to capture moments when it seemed only right that we were there. When a little dragonfly, or a tiny flower, seemed to be the biggest star in this amazing interlude of nature's creation.
Hours may had been spent that night watching the lake, but time had no meaning to us then. I went to sleep that night already dreaming.
Go to Indonesia 2: Motorbike Happy
posted by tygertyger at 6:25 PM
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