The Lure of the Lake 2: Fast and Furious

If Samosir island were a breast, Tuk Tuk is its jutting perky nipple. And we were heading there. After all. 

A very helpful local by the ferry terminal took one look at our distressed--and slightly ashamed--faces (I mean who forgets their luggage for chrissakes?) and ran to fetch an angkot* to chase the bus with our bags. With the rain still beating down hard, the angkot screeched to a halt in front of me, its driver's face all fast-and-furious-sy. 

"Chase the bus!" the helpful guy  yelled at the potential Vin Diesel behind the wheel, gesticulating in the rain like a true hero saving the (scatterbrained) damsels in distress. 

"Got it, boss," the driver nodded grimly. I, the dubious damsel, hastily clambered up the vehicle and grabbed on to the seats for dear life. Indonesian angkot drivers are notorious for living out their amazing race fantasies and I didn't want to end up with my bum up on air and my face shoved deep in North Sumatran  mud! My friend had stayed behind to make sure the boat didn't leave without us. Without a second wasted, the mini-van vroomed and tore out of the wharf area, spraying rain puddles everywhere...

...and lurched to a stop. 

"Miss, there's your luggage," the crestfallen driver said, pointing at two bags standing forlorn and abandoned under the shelter of a makeshift café some 10 meters from the wharf. Was that disappointment on his face?

"Yay!" I shrieked. Car chase thwarted!

The passengers cheered when we came back down to the boat. "You found your bags," the friendly Aussies sitting across us grinned at our abashed faces. The bus conductor had actually hauled our luggage off the bus for us. We just, uhhhmmm, sort of forgot all about it in our excitement to go to the island. Totally understandable, of course. 

Right? 

But then we were off! It had stopped raining as suddenly as if someone had turned off a water faucet up in the blue yonder and flipped open the sky curtains to let in the mellow rays of the afternoon sun. The boat was chugging noisily, cutting through the now shimmering waters of Lake Toba. Our shoes were soaked cold down to our socks, but who cared? We were on a boat to an island within an island, famed not only for its beauty and serenity, but also for its rich history and culture. A Batak cottage overlooking the lake was waiting for us. We had booked this place because it was quiet and secluded and had direct access to the lake. I was already dreaming of swinging from  one of the cottage palm trees to the green waters like in the videos I saw (yes, I am very impressionable that way!) Imagine drifting off to sleep with the sound of lapping waters in your ears, and waking up to the sight of the lake all around you! And all these surrounded by tall trees, wildflowers, and blue skies. Not to mention inexpensive good food--freshwater fish from the lake steamed in coconut milk and spices, and roasted pork! Oh yeah, the Batak are predominantly Christians and their pork barbecue is famous. I was glad I came to the island. As we neared Tuk Tuk, the place where we were staying, more and more white-winged waterbirds flitted gracefully across the waters. My heart grew lighter and I couldn't stop smiling. 

A wiry, sun weathered guy with a lazy eye started collecting fares from the passengers, asking each where they were headed so the boat could drop them off in a nearby jetty.

"We're going to Mas Cottages," I beamed as I handed him our fare, charm full on. 

He stopped counting the bills, stared at me (which was a bit disconcerting), and shook his head.

"You are in the wrong ferry. We're not heading there," he said flatly, effectively wiping the grin off my face.


Number clusters! You harsh.


*angkot- multicab in Maasinhon