a friendly young man wanting to exercise his English struck up a
conversation with us, the topic was somehow steered to durian (smells
like an obsession, eh?). We learned that everyone agrees the most
delicious durian is from Parongil, a nearby village. We got excited,
feeling we’d caught the the stinky sweet scent of adventure, and decided
to investigate. We packed up our bags and headed for the bus station.
This
bus was super crowded! We have been on some pretty crammed rides, but
this one takes the cake (let’s make it durian cake… mmmm). Seventeen
adults and two babies managed to be packed into the back of a little van
about the size of the old VW’s. It was heartwarming to see that even in
these conditions the Indonesians were caring people – everyone made
room for the babies and some even took turns propping up the sleeping
infant’s head.
We
shared a forty-five minute ride down the mountain with glimpses of the
rice paddy filled valley and terraced hillsides. The countryside here
really is beautiful.
and I were dropped off in a small, one strip village in front of a
mechanic’s shop. The bus zoomed off. Despite being there being roadside
vendors on our drive, here there was not a durian in sight. We spoke
with some locals and learned the village didn’t have a guesthouse
either. Feeling a bit stranded with no place to stay, no durian, and no
idea when the next bus would wheel by, we started a nice hike back
toward Sidikalang.
Our
luck quickly turned around. We spotted a durian tree that was still
bearing and found this little beauty. It was lovely and uplifting. We
found three more and loaded ’em up to enjoy back in Sidikalang.
We
didn’t have to carry our treasure far before a car stopped to answer
our thumbs. It was a fun ride, too. At least one of our hosts was a
policeman, and with his authority on board we sped recklessly up the
mountain road, quickly overtaking every vehicle appearing in front of
us, stopping only to buy coconut moonshine – of which even the driver
partook! Lindsay and I tried a polite sip, which actually made me less
afraid when I realized it was more a wine than a liquor. Sometimes it
felt like we were playing chicken with school children as for a few
wrenching seconds we took the wrong side of the road to race around a
moped. But it didn’t phase the kids who walk on this road everyday under
similar threat. And we made it back in one piece, too.
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