Satwa Elephant Ecolodge Sumatra

... The boy remembered seeing something on television about a war there. There was video of bombs falling, like in a video game.

“Where are you going?”

“To Australia,” she said. “I hope to find a better life there.”

“But is your family still in Iraq?”

“Yes, child, though my husband is already in Australia. I am following him there. Once we get to ...

... took a room at the Eco Lodge for the night. Although it was pretty shabby and basic with no air-con and a cold water shower, after a night in the jungle, it felt like The Ritz.

Although it had been amazing to get so close to orangutans in the wild, we both vowed that this would be our last ever jungle trek. The jungle is just not designed for man. It doesn’t want us there and makes that sentiment felt at every available opportunity.

... crown of black, flowing hair. She was too busy making rice for the children's breakfast anyway. She felt so old...she knew her husband preferred to hang out with his friends playing chess, drinking coffee and watching the pretty girls go by. She waved to the jamu lady and asked the becak driver to stop. "Little sister," she called. "I feel so old and tired today. Your jamu has always made me feel stronger. But I need something special this time, and I know you can do it. Can you ...

As the birthday treats continued and thanks to Michelle's generosity we all upgraded for one night to a luxurious hotel in Jakarta...swimming pool, sauna, steam room and private karaoke kept us entertained well and was an exuberant treat indeed!

We said a sad goodbye to Michelle at the airport as she flew south to Bali and we continued north to Sumatra and the plan to visit the jungle!
We flew into Medan, Sumatra's main city...polluted, muggy and dirty- we didn't intend on ...

We took the ferry (150.00RM/ea) from Penang alll the way to the Indonesian island of Sumatra. Indonesian customs was the most disorganized I've ever seen... partway through getting our visas-on-arrival the power went out for the whole building. I lent my flashlight to the customs officer so he could see enough to finish the process, haha.

We took a bus from the port to Medan, a dirty polluted ...

Pobudka o 8:00. O 10-tej mamy spotkanie z Antonem z Tamasaya Indonesia, ktory ma byc naszym kierowca na Sumatrze. Przed spotkaniem schodzimy na sniadanie, bardzo urozmaicone od tostow i dzemu po kuchnie indonezyjska..... Czas wniknac w kulture i wprowadzic organizm na obroty. Nie omieszkamy skorzystac z propozycji tutejszej kuchnii :) O potrawach bede jeszcze pisal bo to jeden z celow tej podrozy.

Mr. Anton okazuje sie byc bardzo sympatyczny i dobrze mowi po angielsku. Po ...

... jestesmy w Unii do Indonezji mozna otrzymac wize na lotnisku, tzw. Visa On Arrival. 25 usd i piekna naklejka na cala strone w paszporcie. Jeszcze tylko przejsc przez odprawe paszportowa i... mozna sie wdac w dialogi z taksowkarzami :)

Hello mister ! Taxi ? What hotel ? The price is the same.

Na mojej drodze stanal jeszcze naganiacz do kantoru, w sumie nie wiem po co bo o tej porze czynny byl tylko jeden na lotnisku a kase na taksowke ...

... from Tuk Tuk, is like Ambarita just another small hamlet where women do all the drudgery in and around the house as well as the backbreaking work in the rice paddies - another left-over from their original lineage to the clans of Northern Thailand and Birma....why break your male back and work yourself into a sweat when you can sit back with your mates and enjoy a cold beer and leave that notorious backbreaking work to the women....the sort of male attitute I remember so well ...

... main settlement on Samosir Island I accidentedly meet Peter Big Tumpui - Peter Big Belly as the Thais call him though sometimes the term Peter Nit Noi Chang, Little Elefant is also used - I find this presumed child molester sitting in front of Mama Ceska`s guesthouse enjoying the sun. He seems genuinely happy to see me wanting to tell me his life story again - boring to the max - but my ...

In the back of the bus, bouncing over speed bumps and potholes in the street, the old man reaches into a plastic bag, hands me a gnarled bulbous root as a gift.

It is rough and dirty in my hands, just pulled from the earth. It looks like a yam, but the flesh is fresh and crispy white on the ends, revealing a glimpse of what is inside.

"Ubi," the old man says. He is very thin, with few teeth left. He is probably not even very old, maybe ...