Adventures with the apes

 Sumatra holiday part 1: Adventures with the apes

‘Watch out,’ the guide in front of me yells over his shoulder when he suddenly stops in his track. ‘It is Jackie. Jackie loves to hug. But don’t worry, she is not dangerous like Mina.’ In this jungle we are not alone, we hike with some phenomenal creatures: orang-utans. And let me tell you, these ladies are some characters. 

We are in Gunung Leuser National Park in North Sumatra, more specifically in the environs of Bukit Lawang. For years I have wanted to do a proper jungle trek with the children, camp out it in the bush, and this place offers something that I hope will entice my offspring to hike six hours a day without moaning: the chance to encounter both semi-wild and wild orang-utans. 

And we are not disappointed. First we run into Ratna, a semi-wild female and her baby. There used to be a rehabilitation centre in Bukit Lawang, which closed years ago as the forest is fully populated. The reintroduced orang-utans stay close to the village, and humans, as that is what they are used to, thereby creating an excellent opportunity for eco-tourism. The rehabilitated apes are mostly females, who mate with local wild males. But unsurprisingly, there are also problems with human orang-utan interactions. This is after all Indonesia...

Up the hills!

Hungry for lunch, but we have a follower!

Thankfully our guides (unlike some…) are very responsible and explain how we should never get too close to the orang-utans, and they never feed them or leave trash behind – in fact, on our second day we had to postpone our lunch for hours when a wild orang-utan kept following us and we could not sit down and dig into our excellent fried rice and noodles. The orang utan would likely try to steal our food if we did; one of the park rules is that you cannot eat within sight of one of them. The children weren’t sure whether to be annoyed with hunger, or amazed by the attention of our stalker.

Mina and Tara

But, as out guide Tara explained as we walked on, he had one exception to his strict no-feeding rule: Mina. If we we would meet this fearsome lady, he would likely have no choice but to feed her, as Mina was known to become aggressive. He had scars to show for that, a large slash on his lower leg caused by her bite. So when Tara mentioned we  were entering Mina's territory (orang-utans are solitary animals that stay in a set area), lo and behold, there she was, standing in the middle of the path with an upheld hand to demand her toll. Tara carefully doled out sunflower seeds whilst the other guides herded us past swiftly and safely. Mina, with her scarred face, looked imposing and to be honest, rather scary. 

The other orang utan Tara had mentioned by name as one to watch out for was Jackie. Jackie had been reared humans as a child, and was rescued and subsequently released here over a decade ago. Like Mina, she longed to be with humans, but food was not what Jackie was after. Jackie, Tara explained rather mysteriously, 'liked to hug.'

Karien grabbed by Jackie

Karien being forced to stay by Jackie

So when we approached Jackie, after the rather fearful encounter with Mina, I was a bit apprehensive about this ‘hugging’. And rightly so, as when the guides cautiously guided us past her, I suddenly felt a tug on my arm. Before I had time to realise what was going on, Jackie managed to grab me firmly by the hand and pulled me towards her. Orang-utans have amazing strong grip! The soothing voice of Tara told me to stand still, and not worry. Jackie yanked me down slowly, forcing me to sit on the floor next to her. The guides tried to distract Jackie with snacks that did not interest her in the least, so I continued to sit there, with the rest of the family laughing at me. Jackie looked at me with big pleading eyes and it took me a lot of restraint not to give her a full bear-hug. Human attention was clearly what this lady craved. We sat there for what must have been at least twenty minutes. Every time I tried to pull my hand free, Jackie's leathery fingers would close tighter around my arm, the bristles of her hairy arm tickling my naked one. Looking into Jackie's calm, sorrowful eyes allowed to let me keep my cool, that is, as cool as you can be after a wild animal has wrestled you to the ground...  

Through the river!

First night Indonesian dinner

After I was finally released, thanks to many snacks and plying words from Tara, we hiked on, as much in awe of these creatures as ever. We saw several more wild orang-utans and their nests. The wild orang-utans stayed clear of us humans, in the safety of the high trees, exactly as they should. 

Orang-utans are not all there is to see in Gunung Leuser Park. During our three day trek we saw lizards, giant ants, butterflies, all sorts of greens and majestic sceneries. Our first evening camping by the river we spotted a group of Thomas Leaf monkeys (called Beckham monkeys by the guides, can you guess why?) bathing together with us in the river.

Thomas Leaf Monkey

Down the hill!

We were unimpressed by the long-tailed macaques (we can see these every day in our own garden), but the baboon-like pig-tailed macaques were exciting, if not a tad intimidating. Building dams whilst washing up in the river, eating the most amazing Indonesian food cooked by our guides, and sleeping in the sounds of the screeching jungle – all in all an amazing experience. 

A much needed break

Tijm's favourite thing: building dams

The next day Tara, impressed by the speed and endurance of our children, decided we were fit for the long steep way. It is beyond me why, but on a normal road my children lag behind needing constant urging, yet on a steep mountainous jungle trek, with only tree roots and lianas to pull you up, they rush up leaving me short of breath. The steepest of climbs offers the highest rewards: from the top of Orchid Hill we had an amazing view over the Gunung Leuser Reserve and its flowing hills. That evening we had just arrived at our new camp and were having a quick bath in the river when the skies broke; a big thundering storm made the river we had just swam in bulge from of its course into a thundering rage. 

Arrival at camp 2

Breakfast by the river - morning after the storm

Second day river camp

Storm! The river 2 meters higher than before...

It was a simple tropical storm, one like we are used to at home in Singapore, but deep in the jungle, under the sagging cloth of our tent roof, we were very much in awe, and a tiny bit of fear. And not without reason: not long ago flash floods caused by illegal logging upstream had swept away most of Bukit Lawang village – a story that makes us firmly aware of the brutal forces that get unleashed when we humans interfere with nature. We sat in our mostly-dry shelter munching snacks and drinking sweet hot tea and kept our fingers crossed it would eventually stop – if the river would not calm down we would it be able to tube down it the morning after. Thankfully we woke up to yet another beautiful day and we floated down the river back to the village. 

Tubing home!

Our experience with the magnificent Mina and Jackie left me with mixed feelings. These semi-wild orang-utans were spoiled for life when they were taken from their mothers as a baby and raised by humans. After rehabilitation they lead good lives; they roam in their natural habitat and by reproducing with local wild males help preserve the species. Because they are comfortable being up close with humans, the animals have become a tourist attraction. This has many complications, as Tara's scars and Jackie's hugging habit prove, but at the same time eco-tourism plays an important role in providing income for the local community and the preservation of the forest. Eco-tourism promotes awareness on the importance of nature conservation, without it and the money it generates, this area would have been likely turned into palm oil plantations like so much of Sumatra has.  

I hope that Mina, Ratna and Jackie can all continue playing their part in preserving all the important species that live in the Gunung Leuser Nature Reserve. Meeting them has been a privilege, on that taught us a lot about both nature and humans. 

Kings and queens of the bush

View from Orchid Hill

Best breakfast ever

Trouble in Paradise

The kids are settled at the breakfast table, fiddling with their cereals. I walk over to the chicken run, to give the impatient, clucking hens their breakfast too. I stretch my arm to open the door and freeze in my tracks. I am looking right into the eyes of a giant snake.

The snake is curled around the fence just next to the door, eye level, neck and tail sticking out, and the fatter, middle part of his body leaning on the wood inside. I shrink back, screaming, almost falling over my retreating steps. The kids come running from their breakfast. ‘Stay back,’ I shout.

It takes a few seconds before it hits me. Quickly my eyes dart over the hovering chicken. One. Two. Three. Four. My heart sinks. My eyes go back to the fat part of the snake, stuck inside the run, the part that he can’t squeeze through the wire mesh. A snake is stretchy, and can fit through a very small hole. But not a chicken. Nor a snake with a chicken inside him.

The kids come out and stare at the python with big eyes, excited by the turmoil. They have not realised yet what it means when there is a python stuck in the chicken run. I am pondering how I can explain this, when we hear yelling from the front patio. Monkeys have snatched our abandoned breakfast and run up the roof, munching cheese and bread. It truly is a jungle out here!

Back inside I gather my wits. I call the wildlife rescue hotline. I cuddle Jasmijn, who has now realised her favourite chicken is not in the run. I try to explain that nature is cruel, that snakes need to eat too, and isn’t chicken rice her favourite dish? I rush them to the bathroom to brush their teeth before the school bus arrives. In the meanwhile the python has given up trying to get his fat stomach through the mesh, and has coiled up for a nap just behind the door. The chicken run around the coop, unperturbed, annoyed at the delayed breakfast. After the school bus has left the wildlife rescuers arrive. Armed with sticks and long tongs they open the door, and bravely grip the python. Moments later it is safely in a carrier cage and I can breathe again.

  

My relief does not last long as I find the stiff body of Keetje inside the hen house. I blame myself, for the last month I have neglected to lock the hens in at night, allowing the nocturnal predator to get inside. A quick headcount shows that the lump in the python’s long body has to be Wilhemina. I blink away tears. The snake got our two most beautiful hens.

‘A medium size python’ the rescuers say. Reticulated pythons can reach up to seven meters, but this one, that must be well over three metres, is more than enough for me. We chat some more, and I learn about these majestic, yet frightful snakes. I am happy to hear they are not really dangerous to humans, that they won’t bite unless provoked. That does not help my chicken.

Then, I learn that snakes can vomit. There are no words to describe the grossness of a snake vomiting up a chicken, especially if that is your own, beloved hen. Luckily the bathing of the snake to get rid of the nasty smell before it goes in the van, is so hilarious that it, mostly, manages to replace that image in my mind. The snake is popped in a bag and will be taken to the zoo. There, it will be chipped, and in a few months released again in the wild. I hope, far, far from our chicken run.

The remaining hens seem unaffected, they eat, they lay eggs, and cluck away happily. The kids are sad. And me? I see snakes in each tree root, check under every bed, and jump if anything brushes past my leg. I shudder to enter the chicken run. I console myself with my newly gained wisdom that usually only one large python roams in every square five kilometres. I hope it will be a while before a new one moves in. 

With a big thank you to the good people of Acres, I wouldn’t have known what to do without their amazing volunteers. Please consider making a donation via their website, I sure did, you never know when I’ll need them again. 

The Ultimate Borneo Spa Experience

Last week, during our desert island getaway off the shore of northern Borneo, we experienced a very special treat. There is nothing as relaxing, rejuvenating, or fun, as a spa session for the whole family, is there? 

But this was no ordinary spa. This was a jungle adventure spa. To reach it, we had to trek about half an hour through the jungle. Armed with mosquito spray, flip-flops, old clothes, and a solid dose of anticipation, we followed the signs ‘to the mud volcano.’

It wasn’t long until we reached a clearing in the forest, in the middle of the small island that was created by just this mud volcano mere centuries ago. Here was our spa. A spa that offered no fluffy bathrobes, pristine towels or soothing new age music. No. This spa was a bubbling pool of grey, smooth mud. Giant water striders skated over the surface. 

Insects or not, in seconds we had shed our clothes and the kids jumped in the first, most shallow pool. This mud turned out to be the densest, and in seconds all three were stuck. So we pulled them out and tried the next pool, in which the mud was the consistency of creamy yoghurt. Thick enough that lying flat, or even sitting up, you could float on the surface comfortably, and thin enough to propel yourself forward with slow sweeping motions. 

We rubbed the mud all over our body, our faces, and in our hair. We massaged and scrubbed it in, hovering on top of the slush. The sound of cicadas, screaming monkeys, and the wind in the leaves proved much more relaxing than any muzak could ever be. 

After we hadn’t an inch of clear skin left on our bodies it was time to rinse off. To do that, we had to walk back to the sea, down the jungle track we came up. Have you ever attempted to walk down a slippery jungle path with feet full of slick, slimy muck? We tried to clean up our feet as much as we could with an old T-shirt, slipped in - and repeatedly out - our flip-flops, and slithered on our way.

Having arrived safely back at the coast, we plunged straight in, and turned, the warm, clear, and normally bright turquois waters of the South China Sea grey. It took a while to get the mud out of all our crevices, but the water was fresh, the sun shone bright, and hey, we were on holiday.

Our ultimate spa experience was concluded on the beach with a soft sandy scrub session performed by four little hands. Needless to say, my skin has never been smoother. Fluffy bathrobes are definitely overrated.

Nusantara travels: Minahasa Highlands, Sulawesi

School has started and mama has her life back. Apart from catching up with work, I can now slowly start to process what we did the last few weeks, during our travels through Indonesia. What we saw. What we felt, smelt, ate and climbed. So much!

First stop: Minahasa Highlands, Sulawesi. We stay in a wooden bungalow in the village of Kinilow, just outside Tomohon. The mountain air is cool and crisp. Even in the afternoon mist the mountains are impressive, but in the clear morning sky we can see what is looming over us: Gunung Lokon, a perfect cone-shaped volcano. The kids are keen to climb it, but when we hear that the volcano is active, and not recommended right now, we head to it’s brother on the other side of the village: Gunung Mahawa. 

Here we hike around the crater, taking in the amazing views whilst making sure the kids don’t drop in, nor get lost in the high alang alang grass. Off course holding hands is not at all appreciated by the little (dare)devils. Where they whine if they have to walk even hundred meters on a regular road, they have no problems at all as soon as it gets difficult or scary, and instead of having to pull dragging-behind kids, I find myself calling out ‘wait, not so fast, stay with us.’ 

We survive the adventure, and have lunch at lake Tondano, full of water hyacinths and fisherman, where we eat Gunung Mas (goldfish) fried to a crisp with fresh dabu dabu sambal. 

Sulawesi villages are dotted along the mountains, decorated by colourful flags, either in the red and white of the Indonesian flag, or, surprisingly with Dutch, German, Argentinian or Brazilian ones, depending on which team was supported during the World Cup. Holland seems most popular, which makes Tijm very happy. There are more influences to be seen from the former colonisers, which were much more popular in Christian Sulawesi than anywhere else on the archipelago. Like Dutch villages, Sulawesian ones have at least three churches, one catholic, one protestant, and one other type of protestant, as our driver Ronnie tells us. It is Sunday today and people flock to worship in their best clothes. Only in the cities you can see the occasional mosque. Houses and roads are nice, the people are friendly and we know we are going to enjoy our stay here. 

Our Singapore kids shivered at the windy lake so we warm up in some sulphuric hot springs. In the middle of the rice fields is a small lake, and the only clue that something is out of the ordinary, is the steam rising from the edges. The water is a scalding 40 degrees, even hotter in some area’s, but Jasmijn jumps in first, unfazed. The pleasantly blistering water enveloped us, although sometimes squirts of boiling water bubble painfully through your toes. I mentally note this place as one as the most amazing on earth.

After this, Lake Linow, whose sulphuric water supposedly changes colour seems dull in the afternoon sky, but the sweet tea that is served in the café makes up for it. 

We meet a man who tells us, in Dutch, how his grandparents taught him the language, which was the norm at schools in their time. The northern part of Sulawesi was always relatively pro-Dutch, to the extend of some resisting independence, and many are still unhappy being ruled by the Muslims from Java. At the moment Sulawesi is relatively calm, although some area’s have seen violent religious conflicts. Later, in a small warung by the road we buy water and sweets, and old lady proudly exhibits her knowledge of our ‘Belanda’ language. She does not get much further than ‘goedemorgen’, ‘opa’ and ‘oma’, but she does count out the ten sweets I buy from her jar with me in Dutch, beaming. 

The next day we visit Tomohon market. Messy, fragrant, smelly and colourful, I always enjoy markets, but this one goes a bit further. Sulawesians are notorious omnivores, and just outside the meat area we see a large dead dog offered for sale. Roel ventures deeper into the butcher section, while I wait by the vegetables with the kids. When Roel comes back with a sly grin I go in, together with Linde who insists she wants to see it all. ‘All’ includes rats skewered on sticks like satay, jungle hog and bat (paniki), which is a local delicacy. I am a bit disappointed the python the guidebook promised seems to be finished already. Gagging, I manage to steer Linde away from a pile of garbage, including dog intestines and heads, just in time. 

When we drive out of town my nose and stomach get cleansed by the scent of sheets and sheets full of cloves drying by the roadside, it’s sweet smell making it clear that Sulawesi is next door to the so-called spice islands. 

We head to freshen up further at a waterfall, buying a tier of small bananas as long as my arm to sustain us for the hike. A guide, Arno, shows up in the village, which we fortunately decide to take on, as the short hike to the waterfall at toddler pace turns out to be an hour hike through dense jungle. The banana’s come in more than useful, and the water we dip our feet in at the end make a delicious reward. 

For lunch we sample an all-you-can eat Sulawesi buffet. In no time the table is filled with small bowls filled with mysterious stuff. Jasmijn immediately digs into a bowl of jungle snails. Tijm and Linde prefer to stick to the ‘bruine bonensoep’, a soup of brown beans, another leftover from the Dutch colonisers, or the vegetable soup that tastes just like the one my grandmother used to make. Roel and I dig into the wild hog, local tuna fish, very greasy pork, and yes, the dog. The spices are amazing, hot and fragrant (Sulawesian cuisine is said to be the most spicy of Indonesia), but the meat is chewy and tough. My favourite of the meal are the Pangi leaves, from the Pangi tree, that are chopped really fine and fried, and a extremely crispy tofu dish. Paniki, or bat, is unfortunately not on the menu today. 

The next day we go for a swim at the public pool in Kinilow, where we are the main attraction, and get our pictures taken by the whole village, many times, and return the favour. Within minutes we get presented with plates of pisang goreng (fried banana) served with spicy sambal. The pool is filled with local spring water and amazingly fresh. The kids play with the village kids and our ball, and we have a great time. Afterwards we walk around the village and feel sorry it will be time to move on tomorrow.