still around

(…) how you find yourself face-to-face with your narcissist, self-sufficing, autonomic, followed by your only companion, on traveling by your own, travel beside your own, finding answers to looping questions – what I want to do, turn, left, right, stay, leave, trust or just, escape. Your decision, with full force gonna hit you, by force just on you, and less force of habit, maybe decreasing, a less traveled road, maybe every step combines a new one, posing one more question, one more and you know the answer already, do what you want, but don´t trust your narcissist, this pooch, always begging for a bite. But how? Does it mean freedom if I break his neck, kick him roadside? I am not sure if I follow him or me is guided.
Cultural narcissism.
The levels are moving, the decks, the categories, the underground, the dungeons, vanishing points, exits, exit strategies, the doors, gates, rearranging, its mirrors and marks on them, of my forehead, searching for a way in, inside. Realeasing final frontiers. I don´t know this person, not quite sure. Or was this the person I always loved, to be and to hate. It feels like looking through a spy-glas, excited, watching the nearness, the close. But it, it´s still not there, not arrived, yet, maybe.
The pooch is turning around and pokes his tongue out at me, his minion. (…)

After nearly 6 months my scrapbook has hit its last page. Whatever that means. – No, not half time, maybe a time-out. Siem Reap. Get back behind the teacher´s desk.

lakeside

And the polar lights of the shores illuminate the eclipsing daylight. With Lymp Bizkit jumping like a flat stone over the calm volcanic sea – not even such in a romantic way as it might sound, and on top, lets me more feel western, in a western world. Lake Toba, if you just dazzle the details, looks like a sea in the alps. With its closely by forest greened hills surrounding, what is actually the caldera. With its churches, crosses, Jesus and Maria everywhere. – “Of course I am catholic, I smoke weed, man!” Names like Johann, Theresia and other saints – they call me fireman now. And it is for sure the most clean place I have been in Asia. No littering at all.
Dawn is drowning dawn, half shaded by light, unearthly. Humidity similar to europe, after a heavy sunday afternoon rain, I kind of miss that nights… and for the first time on the road I miss home, I miss my friends, looking at the seat next to me, on the bench, next to the sea, a bottle of water, not the best companion for such a beautiful spot. I miss sharing, sharing my thoughts. It´s all there, I mean no sex, but, yeah kind of rock´n´roll and… what was the third element… forgot. The music sounds damn loud. Another progressive metal shitstorm track. The bar and homestay, where I moved into for the next six days, is located in the center of this beauty of a sleepy bay, home of a small village, so an orgasm of a sight and place to live. And the young manager of the bar keeps on playing his hitlist. I am not even in the bar, its behind me, about 50 m. The bar is open! No customer at all, just me, no other guests at the homestay, just me. Just for me. I am feeling disturbed by the fact, that he just does that because of me. Every day. But no one cares, no neighbours show up and complain, no annoyed gazes, they keep on working, washing their clothes, showering, fishing for dinner or cleaning their motorbikes. So I don´t care, more try to, or convincing him that maybe it is more beautiful if there is no Linkin Park at all, not loud nor less, just silence. His english is like my bahasa, so, I picked up my iPod, making him curious, but black metal didn´t affect the neighbourhood or him as well – and no churches start to burn. But it is more sufferable, even this place, this bay doesn´t need to be orchestered, maybe by harmony itself. Sitting at Lake Toba, black metal, beer, smoking homegrown, what a strange place. – Oh no, not again this song… so Linkin Park again…

Six days Lake Toba, one day sober. Inspired by the amazing scenery, I relax, calm me down. Watch the fishermen´s work day by day, watching ferries arrive and depart, the children fooling around in the lake, waiting for the afternoon rain. Maybe that´s how Bali was decades ago. I don´t even feel like on a lake, more an island without sandy beaches, but who cares about sand if you are on the biggest volcano lake on earth. Days of off. In the evening getting drunken with locals and jungle juice, not as best like in Myanmar, but did the job. Running in strange people like Oscar from Finland, one of the top mini golf players in the world, 21. Roy, the pimp, admin of the jungle juice, with his two wives, switching frequently, tomorrow both will be single again, offering me a wife, “Stay here!”. Weird guy, not an honest one, telling me stories didn´t fix at all, but still in a proper range. A drunken german lady talking about her break out, “I decided I have to change my life after the death of my mother, last year”, and introducing her upcoming husband, “He is a very good guy, the other always try to push him in some trouble”, he is one of maybe amateurish still whatever bumming so called criminals on the island. Lake Toba is my german Berlin so far, living here would be a head-vein-whereever-you-wanna-have-it-shot, but it reminded me… Koh Phangan… I miss this kind of island living, it feels so different, you are and not vanish in a world full of experiences waiting for you. You just be there, if there is or not, it is.

Ah! And I don´t wanna miss that, had my worst motorbike excursion till now. Lost, on an island, in the middle of the jungle, the heart of the island on Lake Toba. It was powering cats, dogs, elephants, roads were no more roads… the bridges, ha! I crossed one, driving up steep on big rocks against a muddy stream, the bike was yelling, the bridge constructed by maybe farmers, whoever cares up here… on the right a cliff, on the left, green abyss, “Just don´t, never, stop, don´t think, you can, drive! HELL!!! HATI-HATI!!! – I was sure still to drive around, Jalan-Jalan, on the island, so felt safe in a way, because every islands has shores and its not that huge, but fuck, the road and rain, on and on… saw me lying under the bike, bleeding, running crazy in the jungle, eating insects, mushrooms or what I will find in the dark, saw me during I kept on accelerating… I wanted an adventure, so it is rainy season… here I am, in the middle of nowhere… and then there was light, a road, a proper, flooded but a road, I spat out the insects, brushed the bleeding aside and let the machine howl, sit up and beg for a rest, hahaha.
And the eagles… snakes, steamrolled, like frogs, and whatever that was… the BBQ, the fish, never bit into such a steak of a fish, the locals, the guitar playing, the chorus, the silence, the Lake, Toba…

It´s all Batak style and I love it.

– Pictures? Just one, that´s all, disturbed by rain or sidetracked by intoxication.

Tomorrow I take the ride back to Medan… a city like all the others and I would fall in love with the noise and dirt again, but honestly, I am done, 134 Mails in my mail account, my head is full of full… sometimes you just wanna stay on your room, chips, water and HBO… just for days, weeks will follow again, on the road, because I live on it.

In Medan…

Four hours bus trip AC Mini-Bus to Lake Toba: 110.000 RP
Lunch (a YUMMY one) with hot more yummy sweet tea: 4.500 RP
Black coffee, one donut, small water at Dunkin Donuts: 41.500 RP
Breakfast buffet all inclusive: 70.000 RP (had food-poisoning after)

After three days woe in Medan I will leave Indonesia, to Malaysia, to travel up north, Thailand, Bangkok, take the bus to Siem Reap… I come back, Indonesia, promised. Selamat Malam.