Hong Kong - Macau

We met up in Hong Kong. I was already there running errands, and Samwise flew in on Friday evening. As one does, we partied all night, only ending at around 5am. Our passports were with us, and we were half-tempted to head straight over to Macau at dawn.

Luckily, exhaustion and reason took over, and we headed back for a quick rest, only leaving at around 10am.

The Hong Kong – Macau Ferry Terminal is located at the base of the Shun Tak Centre, a boxy building with red trimmings by the harbour shore. It is easy accessible either via Sheung Wan MTR station directly, or indirectly from Central/Hong Kong MTR and Midlevels Escalator via elevated walkways between the ifc and Hang Seng Bank buildings.

One word of caution: there are two ferry terminals in Macau, the Outer Harbour Ferry Terminal on the main peninsula which is closer to the main sights or the Taipa Ferry Terminal on Taipa Island, a 15 minute taxi ride away, next to the airport and close to the large casinos. Ferries depart every 15 minutes, take roughly 1 hour and is HKD 151 on the Cotai Jet.

The Cotai Jet, the blue ferry with agents immediately outside the departure gate at the Ferry Terminal goes to Taipa and is jointly run by the large casinos. I have no idea where the normal ferry to the Outer Terminal has their agents.

Now, I must admit, I have an ulterior motive for going to Macau, and perhaps providence made it the first stop during my visit. We arrived at the Taipa terminal, and after a rather exasperating explanation to our cabbie on how to get to ‘Moorish Barracks’ and pointing on the map, we were dropped at the southwest tip of the island.

There isn’t a perfect map of Macau, and on arrival, I had to detach one from the ‘Whats On’ guide provided by the Macau Tourism Board. There is a pamphlet with the barest information on sights, so best would be to do your research and identify it on a map.

From the Barra Hill, we had to walk northeast towards the World Heritage Sites, and of course partially due to our rudimentary map, we got a little lost, walking parallel to the shore, and watching the locals go by their daily lives.

Warrens and Barra Hill neighbourhood

After 15 minutes of walking, I knew something was off when the map and where we were walking didn’t quite merge properly. Seeing a beautifully restored building, we instinctively walked along a side street, asked the concierge where we were. We were 1km away from the Barra Hill and the Moorish Barracks. Resigned to our fate, we walked along the street, deciding to seek out other Imperial Portuguese treasures.

The Gate

Up the hill and around the bend, something caught my eye: a beautiful gate and some ramparts. Samwise walked over to see the tourist information guide plaque while I stepped back to get a proper look. Then it dawned on me: that detour led me straight to my reason for coming by.

The steps to St Joseph's Church, & Seminary Macau

St Joseph’s Church is part of St Joseph’s Seminary, and is a beautiful baroque church, by far the finest this side of the Orient. The approach past the gate is meant to give visual impact, and that it succeeded.

I told Samwise that a certain relic is here, and we started a rather bizarre hymn walking up the steps.

“We’re off to see the femur-” me.

“The wonderful femur of…St Francis-” Samwise.

Interior, St Joseph's Church & Seminary

Solomonic columns, richly ornamented interior, beautiful copula and treasures about. The relic was housed in a side chapel, and was, to my mistake, the humerus and not the femur of St Francis Xavier, Apostle to the East. Apparently a visit here warrants an indulgence, and Samwise was complaining about back pain after an injury in Tokyo.

Relic of St Francis Xavier

Copula, St Joseph's Church & Seminary

So, my ulterior motive for coming here was to visit St Joseph’s Church and see the relic of St Francis Xavier. Lo and behold, that was my first stop, despite my plans for the Moorish Barracks as stop one.

After that, it was church after church after church, each slightly less ornamented than the previous. St Lawrence’s Church, across the road is a pretty little number, and we decided to venture down the hill towards the harbour when spotted a pretty red mansion.

Outside St Lawrence's Church

Red House

Thinking it was a tourist attraction, or a museum or hotel at the very least, the sight of guards didn’t really bother us, so we boldly entered the compound, only to have the People’s Liberation Army stopping us, hands on their holsters. Confounded, we made our way out and walked to the main frontage. We accidentally barged in to the Chief Executive of Macau SAR’s offices and residence. Oops.

Macau SAR Government House

We ventured further, taking a side street, amazed at an array of air conditioning units and ended up on a hill, looking at more Imperial treasures. The mint-guacamole coloured Dom Pedro V Theatre and St Augustine’s Church, the headquarters of the Jesuits.

Dom Pedro V Theatre

St Augustine's Church, Jesuit complex in Macau

Just off the theater and church area, our noses found wonderful egg tarts, and Samwise somehow managed to destroy the pastry display door. With pastry in hand, we walked past a cobblestone square, where legend has it, drinking or eating there will ensure you will return. No chance of drinking, when the kiosk was unmanned. We were content with that view of Europe and fine architecture in the square.

Slice of Europe in the Orient

Just off the square was the highlight of any tourist’s itinerary to Macau: the Historic Centre of Senado, or Senate, Square. I’m sure it’s a lovely place, with nice architecture and a beautiful cobblestone square. Instead, we were assaulted by throngs of people. There is half a million people living in Macau, and it felt as if all half a million were in this square at this very moment.

Senado Square

Starbucks and pharmacies, stalls and hawkers, it was sheer chaos, a capitalist enclave surrounded and thronged by citizens of a unique communist nation. Though one thing Samwise and I noticed was how the Mainland Chinese seemed to throng the pharmacies like it was a tourist attraction. It still confounds me till this day.

Hawkers at Senado Square

We excused ourselves from the chaos of the square and made our way down towards Se Cathedral, the city’s main cathedral. The newest of the lot, it was by far the least ornamented and simplest, and the bishop in his wisdom, roped off the front half of the church to let the persons religious go about their devotion without the hordes of tourists breathing down their necks.

Holy House of Mercy, with a very interesting backstory

St Dominic's Church, Senado Square

Interior, Se Cathedral Macau

Heading back to the chaos of Senate Square, we were off to the icon of Macau: St Paul’s Ruins. This would have been a short five minute walk, but the sheer number of people made this feel like a tourist pilgrimage. I imagine Jerusalem to look like this during Holy Week. People packed cheek to jowl, shuffling away, walking at an agonizingly slow pace.

Throngs in narrow streets

St Paul's Ruins, Macau

Up at the ruins, it seemed less crowded, but only slightly. The architecture and grandeur of the building still a visual impact, despite the smog. Up here, the vantage towards the rest of the territory was interesting, to say the least.

We then headed up to the fort, and did our little ‘Game of Thrones’ man the ramparts and watch for wildlings from the battlements. Up here, it was surreal. Mainland China, just beyond the river, cannons still pointing in that general direction.

Ramparts & cannons, Mount Fortress

Manning the ramparts, Mount Fortress

Truth be told, it did not look like a pretty place up here. Glitzy casinos and fancy towers next to Stalinist minimalist blocks and the smog lent it a rather dystopian image. Samwise even commented it could be a perfect stand-in for Lagos.

Four hours later and a rather late lunch and tea, we walked over to the Outer Harbour Ferry Terminal, passing the glitzy and kitschy Casino Lisboa and Wynn Casino. The modern part of Macau is indeed surreal, and the bus-loads of Chinese visitors reminded us who kept the economy moving.

We felt we didn’t quite give Macau the credit she deserves. She does warrant a night and a day to explore and soak in. Away from the crowds, it is a rather quaint place, good for quiet contemplation, if you ignore the densely built blocks surrounding the quiet patches.

And Samwise commented that his back pain was gone. We suspect the indulgence and pilgrimage from church to church may have played a part.

Oneworld

'Revolves around you.'

Yes, I am looking forward to Malaysia Airlines joining the Oneworld alliance in a matter of weeks, joining the ranks of British Airways and Cathay Pacific amongst others.

At the airport again, lounging away waiting for the next flight. Which has me thinking about postings, and planned it all out I did. A trip report on another side of Hong Kong, a quick few hours in Macau and ecclesiastical heritage of the British and Dutch will be coming up so watch this space.

Medan - Day 5

Early morning and we took the 9am boat back to the ‘mainland.’ Our aim was to catch our 10am transport back to Medan, just in time for Samwise’s flight back to Kuala Lumpur in the evening.

Of course, it went awry at some point in time. Our ride was supposed to take not more than 4 hours back, but this being Indonesia, and this being a relative backwater (please pardon my language), things go a little differently.

Lake view from the main road

Resident cats at Toba Cottages

We asked nicely if we could take the northern route back to Medan, which would pass the famous Sipiso-piso Waterfall: a blade-like waterfall that courses in to the lake, and is the source of the name ‘sipiso-piso.’ (Piso is the local term for knife.) Sadly, our driver said no.

However, his action would cause us much chagrin later when he picked up his sister/girlfriend/free-rider on the way, without informing us, and then stopping for an unscheduled stop at a trucker stop for an hour as the two of them have lunch while he was chatting with his friends, all while Samwise, SSM and I were stuck in the car, like a few other travellers who were stranded there, without ceremony, by their own drivers.

'Domes-R-Us' at the trucker stop

After a rather tense drive and confusion between ‘Airport’ and ‘JW Marriott,’ and me giving the driver and his boss a very stern wording, we made it to the JW and a final good riddance to the driver. I would caution other travellers on this, and the antics these drivers can get up to, and sadly, the indifference of their employers.

At the JW, SSM, Samwise and I had a nice lunch, the standard Western fare with burgers, chips and ketchup somehow making us feel better, before Samwise had to leave to meet up with a friend and head off to the airport.

I, true to my nature, on the other hand, couldn’t really sit still, and with this JW Marriott in Medan being a little bit of a disappointment with the crowds and all, decided to drag SSM on a walkabout around town.

Church near the railway like

View from the JW Marriott

General Post Office by Lapangan Merdeka

Having seen much of the place earlier, we decided to stretch it a little, to the sights I had left in my journal. From our room, I spotted a beautiful looking structure down below. Curiosity got me, and we ventured down, discovering a beautiful Protestant Church.

Bank Indonesia building

City Hall + annex

Walking down towards Lapangan Merdeka, we walked past the old Bank Indonesia building, a beautiful white-wash neo-classical structure and visited the Town Hall next door, now converted in to a luxury hotel with a hideous looking annex, and stumbled upon old pictures of Colonial Medan.

Court house buildings near the Aryaduta Medan

Emmanuel Church Medan

Governor's Offices

Eventually, we found ourselves exploring even more of old Dutch Medan, and paid a visit to the Roman Catholic cathedral and the Protestant Emmanuel Church, before stumbling upon more beautiful Dutch colonial buildings.

Medan Water Tower

By pure coincidence, we found the famous water tower of Medan, a known city landmark, which conveniently helped us locate the elusive Jalan Selat Panjang, the city’s main commercial hub for the Chinese community in Medan, a rather large community with an even larger appetite for food.

The next day, our last day, was spent at leisure. Nothing much, apart from being surprised at the massive crowds at the JW Marriott buffet, a look through the city’s largest shopping mall and the very Spartan facilities at Medan Polonia International Airport.

All in all, a rather eye-opening and somewhat testing trip. Would I recommend Medan? It has its secrets. Would I recommend Lake Toba? Definitely. The beauty of the place would make all that hassle worthwhile.

Medan - Lake Toba: Day 4 part 2

[This is a continuation of Medan Day 4, after a rather long and uncalled for delay in continuing the story.]

Having made my way down from the Tuk-Tuk waterfall, walking leisurely on down past a few rubber trees, I decided to wait for Samwise, who was somewhere, up there, by the waterfall. As I soaked in the green and pondered the meaning of life, the universe and everything in it, all of a sudden, I heard a few thuds coming downhill.

View from the top, the lake down below

*thud thud thud*

It was Samwise, doing his trademark rolling down the hill. He caught up with me, and both of us, still in a state of adrenaline, decided to do a light jog back in to ‘town.’ On our way, we passed by a few houses and the junction that lead to the waterfall.

There, the eccentric man of the house was observing us, as he was tending to the washing while his young daughter was playing outside. All of a sudden, he spoke to us, his Indonesian thick with the local accent.

Now, I understand Indonesian, enough for conversation and just enough to strike a few deals. What this man said, and I shall translate, made little to no sense unless he had birds eavesdropping in the jungle.

“Can you speak to United Nations and ask them to build a road?” He said that while pointing to the path with an expectant look.

I replied, telling him we’ll do what we can, and we left him, looking disappointed. The daughter on the other hand, had another thing to say, referring to us: “Babi!” Then she cackled, hysterically.

‘Babi’ is Indonesian/Malay-based languages for ‘pig.’ Now, Samwise and I are by no means pudgy. We may be a bit bulky but we are not pudgy. I told SSM and he laughed to no end.

Following this shocking statement by a little girl who only a few hours ago was as friendly as little curious children could be, we made our way back to town, where SSM has mopeds ready. One for me and him, the other for Samwise. I opted against a moped as I am hopeless on a bicycle, let alone a motorized one.

Samwise & The Moped

Samosir Island is a wonderful island, and a large one while we are at it. A lack of taxis is one thing, the distances another, and it would be very difficult to traverse it by bicycle, let alone on foot. With moped in tow, we embarked on our adventure along the shores of the lake. First stop: the stone chairs.

Brings a whole new meaning to 'petrified to stone'

Yes, stone chairs of Ambarita. It sounds rather mundane, yet somehow the image of stone chairs arranged in a circle has a rather Stonehenge-Lord of the Ring-Council of Elrond feel to it. It was just the next town up, and soon we found it, in a nondescript part of town, fortified with Cyclopean structures and not looking out of place in the English countryside.

Batak structures by the Stone Chairs

There, we found a few traditional Batak-style houses, a tree, and the stone chairs. These chairs were apparently the ‘Seats of Justice’ for the kings of the Batak, who passed on judgment on the usual misdemeanors, as elders and a few stone faces looked on at the accused.

'The Stone Chairs of Ambarita'

Surrounding it were a few structures, one being a museum of sorts, and a few raised tombs of the kings and members of the royal family. And of course, becoming of a tourist attraction, there was a small ‘bazaar’ selling the usual trinkets.

Lake shore, volcanoes in the distance

Following Ambarita, we decided to further explore the northern shore of the island, and after hinting at the boys of a hot spring just beyond that bend and over the hill, they were dead set on finding it. Luckily, it was a fairly easy ride, with the lake on one side, the plains on the other, and the great volcanoes just beyond.

Dormant volcano, next to the hot spring

One interesting thing about this island which we noticed during this ride was the predominance of religion in the community. There was a church, nay, a chapel, every 100m. In the middle of a field, you would see a church. By the shore, a church. At a major intersection leading to the isthmus, a massive cross. Be it Dutch Reformed or Roman Catholic, they were serious church goers.

Samosir Island in itself isn’t exactly a proper island. It is connected to the ‘mainland’ by a relatively narrow isthmus. That isthmus had a channel dug through it in the early 20^th century by the Dutch to assist with navigation, with a bridge connecting both ends. However, by now, the channel seems to have silted up, maybe due to agricultural activities, maybe by neglect.

A short hop from the isthmus was a ‘private’ road that led to the hot springs. Now, entry is via toll, and the hot springs at first, seemed like it was free use. So, after parking our mopeds, we sought out the first hot spring, which was conveniently, all located next to each other and was by the shore.

We found one, with a private cabin, and we picked it. It was somehow how I imagined the Japanese hot springs to be, or perhaps the baths in Republican and early Imperial Rome. Of course, we weren’t too sure what to do, or how to dip in. That is, as always, a recipe for entertainment.

'Private Cabin' for stewing

The water was by all means, on the threshold of boiling. It felt scalding. It was not exactly what I had in mind for a nice hot bath. So, the lot of us undressed, left in our skivvies. I was in my swimwear, while SSM and Samwise were in their underwear. Samwise felt like going all the way, stark naked and dipping in. Before Samwise and I dropped our skivvies, SSM had already poured a pail of water over his head, immediately changing our minds. To hell if we had soggy underwear.

SSM’s expression said it all. It was hot enough to boil and egg. Now, I have been to hot springs before, and I must say this is a different experience. The ones in Rotorua, New Zealand stank like rotten eggs from the sulphur. The luxury resort near Ipoh, Malaysia, had an emerald green sheer to it. This was just enough to make human stew.

Glad that Samwise and I did not strip down and boil our bits to kingdom come, we decided to tread carefully. Samwise with an arm in, me dipping my leg in. Good God was it hot. And ideas of course came coursing through our heads.

Shock therapy! Worked for a few Eastern Block countries, it’d work for us! So, I took a pail and poured hot water down Samwise. The look on Samwise’s face after having hot water poured down his back basically said ‘try me.’ The water fight began.

View of the lake from the hot springs

After basically cooking ourselves, we discovered that our session in the hot tub had to be completed with either a charge for use, or a meal at the restaurant. So, there we were, with Samwise looking like a proper red lobster and SSM shifting in his seat with wet underwear, enjoying the trademark Indonesian instant noodle favourite: Indomie.

Pavillion by Tabo Cottages

After our romp around the north shore, we slowly made our way back, just in time for evening drinks at the Toba Cottages. Samwise and I were a little bummed that we couldn’t do our kayaking trip, but I suppose feeling like part of a braised chicken would compensate for an experience.

102nd Floor

The picture says it all. Greetings from a fog-filled Hong Kong, been gloomy, foggy and drizzly all weekend, but for now. Will finish up the Medan write-up, I promise!