Bukit Lawang: Where We Were Welcomed Like Family

After living in Thailand for five months, I’ve come to expect smiles and kindness. I’ve come to expect that when I pass a grin, I should receive one in return. I’ve come to expect special glances because of my snow-white complexion.

So when my two friends and I set out to explore the country of Indonesia, what did I expect? Well, I sure didn’t expect to be embraced quite like this.

Flying into the dirty, busy, overbearing city of Medan had me feeling insecure about my decision to explore this country. Gangs of men surrounded us in hopes to be our transport out of this hellhole. I looked down at my shorts and immediately regretted my comfortable choice in wardrobe. In this very Muslim environment, every inch of skin was well noticed.

That night, our decision to quench hunger with cup of noodles turned into lines of men gawking from the window of the Indomart. The following day, our drive out of town continued the terror as our driver overcame semi-trucks and tested speed limits on unpaved roads.

All of this craziness left me holding on for dear life.

But when we finally arrived, my ears were pleasantly surprised with a quiet embrace. There was no hectic commotion, no horns beeping. Instead, as we walked to our accommodation, there was ‘halos’ and smiles that seemed to make sounds for as far as the grin stretched. The powerful river was the soundtrack for the town. And the children, with their incessant desire for high fives, made it all feel like a movie.

Little did we know, that within days, this beautiful jungle town would become our beautiful jungle town.

Our very first night, we saw real tradition when we were invited to a wedding. Everything was so fresh and different, like the concept of dropping our dinner plates and empty waters on the ground. A performance of witches and lady boys had the little ones dashing around and hiding in pure terror. It was really cute to see how into it the kids got, and how entertained the elders were. And then, we got invited on stage. I knew it was the appropriate thing to agree, but the entire time I couldn’t help but laugh at the awkwardness. Three western girls swaying on stage with a handful of Indonesian women, while the rest of the crowd sat in their seats and watched.

And then there were the moments that will be stained in my memory forever. Like seeing the little boy who had rescued us on our tubing adventure earlier that day. I offered him a Mentos, and that little rascal took off with the whole roll. Or the grandma in the corner who motioned me to close my legs, as I often sit like a boy. Or the bride with a snake wrapped around her neck, pleasantly surprised and honored by our presence.

Even after a high of such cultural welcoming, our night was not over. We visited newfound friends, whose musical talents had enticed us that afternoon. Little by little, the circle of musicians increased, as did the instruments. Twelve men singing their hearts out and three Americans beaming uncontrollably- that’s what set the scene. And when it became too late for the noise in the neighborhood, we didn’t just pack up and leave, we all packed up and headed to the river.

It was beautiful to be in a moment where the fun was never ending. Where tomorrow was tomorrow and today was today.

Off to the jungle

Bukit Lawang is one of the few places in the world where Orangutans can be viewed in the wild. Our guide, Joni, led us on our trek and took us on a daunting exploration of monkeys. It was amazing to hear that his English language came from the jungle, from communicating with tourists and learning from his fellow guide friends. Maybe he couldn’t read or write, but he spoke English better than most Thais I’ve come in contact with.

Our first viewing of the Orangutan was a Momma and her baby. We had come across an unusual sighting of a fight between her and the black gibbon monkey. You’d think because of the Orangutans stature that they’d pick on these little black ones more often. But gibbons regularly travel in large packs, so the Momma was taking her chances; this was a very special event.

Since Orangutans are constantly moving, it was not an easy feat to come across these majestic creatures. The guides were whistling to each other throughout the jungle, occasionally placing phone calls regarding sightings. They are truly a family of jungle men sharing their lucky crossings. We were sliding down hillsides, skipping across rivers, scaling the side of tree trunks all on the hunt for the orange humanlike monkey.

In another sighting, we passed by a shirtless guide who motioned to us above. Perched in his nest lay a sly Orangutan, swinging a dark green shirt in the air. He’d snaked it off the guides back! We watched for a half hour as he attempted to put the shirt on, almost achieving to pull his furry head through only to take it off and use it as a blanket. It was pure, natural entertainment.

The jungle was a very, very special place. We shared games and tricks. We drank Bintang in the moonlight. We showered at the waterfall. We learned some of the Bahasa language. We laughed, a lot. We noticed how greatly the locals cared for the forest. How diligent they were in keeping it clean. How well respected this sacred place really was.

We dropped our role as tourists, and quickly absorbed our destiny as jungle sisters.

The days that followed continued this combination of adventure and authenticity. We took an hour-long raft down the river, passing grazing water buffalo and families doing their daily cleaning. We drank tea and ate scrumptious fried treats. We climbed the top of a van and took a ride back to town with this bird’s eye view of paradise. It didn’t matter if it was raining, we were singing and enjoying every experience. We hopped on motorcycles and toured nearby villages. We guzzled down egg noodle soup by the riverside.

 While crossing a bridge to a waterfall, I was stopped midway by an Indonesian woman wearing a muay thai boxing shirt. She touched my blonde hair, asking if I was American. Immediately after my response, she was pushing her son towards me, laughing, and suggesting we get married. As I started to laugh as well, she reached for my hand and expressed her sincerity. She wanted me to marry her son and teach the family English. I gave gratitude and laughed away the forward proposal. They took a picture with me and we exchanged Facebook accounts before parting ways.

We were not just checking things off our “to-do list”, we were experiencing genuine cultural integration.

Our friends from Thailand came for a visit and we were able to share this place, a place we had fallen in love with, with a new set of eyes. The tribe had extended, at least for a short time, to six girls with striking Balinese red flowers in our hair. We climbed crevices and clambered over slippery rocks, with bouts of laughter echoing on the walls. We all gazed in amazement in this cave with millions of bats screeching overhead. We shared a barbeque and welcomed everyone to our porch. While sitting in a circle, I had one of those moments of true appreciation as my friends interacted with our Indonesian friends, all while a Bukit Lawang version of “Country Road” strummed in the background.

We departed from this beautiful village with a sentimental send off just like the cinemas. As our van drove away, three Indonesian boys waved in the distance, and Emily turned to us and muttered, “I think I’m going to cry, guys.”

We knew we’d found a place quite like any other. We knew we’d return.

But little did we know, how soon we’d be back.