{"id":3173,"date":"2026-05-20T17:41:27","date_gmt":"2026-05-20T15:41:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/legendarybackpacker70s.com\/reisebeitrage\/indonesia\/"},"modified":"2026-06-04T10:39:33","modified_gmt":"2026-06-04T08:39:33","slug":"indonesia","status":"publish","type":"reisebeitrage","link":"https:\/\/legendarybackpacker70s.com\/en\/reisebeitrage\/indonesia\/","title":{"rendered":"Indonesia"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Indonesia  <\/strong><\/h1>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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Sumatra with Lake Toba<\/strong><\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t

It was time for us to set off for the onward journey to Sumatra (Indonesia). We went to the port and got tickets for the ferry the next day - from Penang to Belawan, the port of Medan. The crossing took about six hours.  

After arriving at the port of Belawan, we went through customs and looked for a bus that would take us to Lake Toba. This lake was formed around 70,000 years ago by a huge volcanic eruption. This formed a large peninsula, which is now known as Samosir Island.  

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Sumatra<\/h2>\n\t\t
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Girl wanted to look into my camera, Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Her brother probably wanted to look into my camera too, Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Batak House, Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Nainggolan Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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We drove through dense jungle to Parapat. When we got out of the car, a ranger (a national park warden) approached us and asked if we wanted to go to the island. At that time, there were no regular boat connections. He offered to take us over in his motorboat and asked for a small gift in return. We asked how big it should be - he was very modest. So we got on the boat and he set off.  

Once on the island in Tuk Tuk, we were invited by a Batak family. The traditional Batak houses look like upturned ships. They stand on stilts, the animals live below and the people live above. The rooms are separated from each other with cloths. It was very cheap and we spent a few lovely days there.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n

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Temple Bali, Indonesia 1973, Albrecht<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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We visited smaller villages in the area and, towards the end of our stay, the hot springs, where we bathed extensively. In Pangururan, we found a place to stay in a small, partially burnt-down hotel. We slept on the remaining tables. The daughter of the house, who was disabled by polio, spoke English quite well. It was very easy to talk to her. She told us the sad story of her family - her father was devastated.  

Rolf said to me: \"You'll see, in a few years there will be a lot of hotels here, if only because of the hot springs and the extraordinary nature.\" I've never been back, but apparently Rolf was right. Tourism has now also arrived at Lake Toba.  

We continued on foot via Mogang to Urat, where we boarded a not entirely safe ferry. It was heavily overloaded, which is why we rode on the roof - hence the word \"dangerous\". The ferry docked in Muar, and from there we took a bus to Sibolga.  

Our original plan was to travel overland to Bandarlampung and then take the ferry to Jakarta. Unfortunately, we had to abandon this route: All bus connections were suspended due to severe flooding and impassable roads.  

In Sibolga we had quite a bit of trouble finding accommodation this time, as many hotels were occupied by pilgrims waiting for the big ship to Saudi Arabia (Mecca). <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Burial ceremony Bali, Indonesia 1974<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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Eating during Ramadan<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

It was evening and we were hungry. During Ramadan, it was not easy to find an open restaurant. We were given a tip: if you see a house with half-open shutters, it's usually a restaurant run by Chinese people.  

We soon found one and entered. What a surprise! There were about 80-100 men sitting at their tables in the room, each with a bowl of rice and side dishes in front of them - and no one was eating. We were so hungry that we just ordered and started eating. I will never forget those countless looks. If looks had been shots, we would have been shot several times.  

We hadn't thought about Ramadan for a moment. We were only allowed to eat and drink again after sunset. Shortly afterwards, the sun disappeared and it was like a starting signal: \"On your marks, get set, go!\" Everyone started eating in a hurry. From sunrise to sunset - no drinking, no eating.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Small freighter to Jakarta<\/strong><\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t

So we looked around the harbor and found an opportunity there: A small freighter would be traveling to Jakarta in three days with several stops along the way, loading copra (dried coconut meat). There were no passenger cabins. The captain explained to us that as soon as everything was loaded, the loading boom would be lowered and a waterproof tarpaulin stretched over it. The whole thing would serve as a tent for four days. We accepted the offer and paid for our passage.  

On the day of departure, we went to the port and were quite surprised. There were lots of people waiting there with bags and bags, small children and even chickens. I said to Rolf: \"I'm sure a real passenger ship is coming.\"   <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Children's group, Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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We were allowed to climb aboard and watched as the loading boom was lowered and the tarpaulin stretched over it. Then all the passengers were let onto the ship and crawled under this tent. I said to Rolf: \"I'm not going in there. If the ship sinks, you won't be able to get out.\" I don't think most of these people knew how to swim.  

I spent the night in the fresh air behind the galley on a bench. I also got seasick and my voice almost completely disappeared. The only toilet for everyone - I estimate there were 80 to 100 people under the tent - was right at the entrance to the tent.

Tiger Balm is a kind of panacea in Asia. Many were ill but didn't dare leave the tent. Because they were ill, they constantly rubbed themselves with Tiger Balm. I'd rather not describe the air that was created.  

As soon as we had left the harbor and were out on the open sea, a storm came up. The ship was rocking like crazy. I also hung over the railing a few times. When day broke, the storm finally disappeared.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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The ship stopped on the coast of Sumatra. Copra was loaded. <\/strong> <\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

The sailors launched a large rowing boat. The captain asked us if we wanted to help load the copra. I declined because I was still quite ill. Rolf got into the boat with me. After a while they came back, fully loaded with jute sacks full of copra. When Rolf climbed back on the boat, he told me that the people from the small village on the shore had thrown large stones at him. He had only just managed to escape.  

The copra was loaded and the ship sailed on. On the second night, another storm arose - just like the first. Again screaming, stench and the whole program. When day finally broke, the sea calmed down and the ship stopped again to take goods on board.  

I said to Rolf: \"One more night, then we'll be in Jakarta.\" The ship sailed on and soon the port of Jakarta was in sight. We thought we were about to have safe ground under our feet again.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n

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Copra loading area, along the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia, 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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Bali market, Indonesia<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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Waiting in the port of Jakarta, JAVA<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

We sailed into the harbor. It was half past four in the afternoon. Suddenly the ship stopped. I asked the captain why. He calmly replied that the harbor pilot was off work at 4 pm and wouldn't be back until the next morning. So we spent the last night on the ship - at least without a storm this time.  

We were finally able to leave the ship. We walked to the youth hostel that another backpacker had recommended to us. We walked for over half an hour until we arrived. We registered, showed our passports and were sent to a room. The shower and bathroom were right next door. There was a large ceiling fan in the room. The design was very open, so there was also a common corner where we found European playing cards. Where we played cards with an American, he really wanted to learn Swiss German, what an evening.   

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Youth Hostel in Jakarta<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

In the afternoon, we made our way to the Australian embassy. We were excited and full of anticipation to finally get that stamp in our passport. After a long walk - in this heat and humidity - we found the embassy, entered and asked for our work permit, which we had applied for in Bangkok. The woman at the counter just said: \"We haven't received anything yet.  

In between, we started to sweat a lot, because our three-month visa would expire on December 31. So what now? We agreed that we would continue to travel through Java and give ourselves a \"poste restante\" in Bali where we could be reached.  

We didn't really feel like staying in Jakarta any longer. We didn't find the city particularly worth seeing - apart from a few large monuments to dictators. So we took the train via Yogyakarta, where we made a short stop and visited the temples of Borobudur from there. We then traveled on to Surabaya. Once there, we visited the region around Mount Bromo. After a few days, we continued by bus to the island of Bali.  

Unfortunately, we arrived too late in the evening, so we slept in the waiting room for one night. In the morning we took the bus and ferry to Bali, as far as Denpasar, the capital and terminus of the bus. There we found a tuk-tuk that several people ...loaded up <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n

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Albrecht as helmsman, freighter to Jakarta, 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Bali betting, 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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Suckling pig, Kuta Beach, Bali, Indonesia 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Bali temple complex with monkeys, Albrecht 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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Kuta Beach in Bali<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

We drove on to Kuta. Once there, we found a cheap place to stay with a family. There was a small house in the large garden that was self-contained - we could move in there. The shower was a cup shower: a large amphora filled with rainwater stood under a roof. You dipped the cup into it and poured the water over your body. The toilet was a little further back in the garden. We had a large cup of tea and a bowl of fruit for breakfast. Rolf and I paid about 3 francs per person per day.  

The sea was about 150 meters away - crystal blue and warm. An almost empty beach, a real paradise. We tried our hand at body surfing and had great success, even in high waves. We were young and strong.  

Back then, Kuta was the classic place where most backpackers ended up. There we met Andy from Basel, a couple from St. Gallen, a German couple and an expat couple from the Zurich region. He would be working in Australia as a swimming instructor and pool attendant, his wife was a nurse. Both were a little older than us. The wife invited some people over for Christmas Eve and had made a large purchase of alcoholic drinks. Everything tasted good to me and I looked into the different glasses a little too often. The result: I was ill for over five days. The grandmother we lived with brought me a special tea several times a day and scolded me every time. I didn't understand a word she said, but the tone was clear.  

One evening, locals grilled a suckling pig on an open fire and served it with rice and fruit. There was a simple hut not far from our accommodation. The small restaurant was called **Warung Dayu**.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Warung Dayu in Kuta Beach<\/strong><\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t

There were different rice variations - sometimes with fish, chicken or beef and vegetables. Everything together was very tasty. The house dessert was called banana susu: fruit salad with sweetened condensed milk on top. Because our budget was getting smaller and smaller, we usually only ate one meal a day. I was lucky with the waiter - he always served me a large ladle of extra rice at no extra charge. I met this waiter again over 40 years later in the Dayu restaurant and rewarded him with a big tip because he always gave me the extra spoonful of rice back then.  

But we couldn't pass it up when the landlady asked us if we wanted to eat lobster. I only knew lobster from hearsay and knew that it was very expensive in Switzerland. We asked the price. The landlady said that a lobster costs 3 US dollars. So we ordered one for the two of us - with a handmade garlic sauce. A wonderful dish.  

It was pre-Christmas time, and as luck would have it, one evening in this simple warung we discovered a very well-dressed man from our own city. He was not a backpacker. He was accompanied by a woman. As we only knew him by sight, we didn't try to make contact. Perhaps it was a mistake. <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Main post office Denpasar<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

We kept going to the main post office in Denpasar to see if there was a letter for us from the Australian embassy in the \"Poste Restante\". We usually did this in the morning after breakfast. The hosts were always friendly and kind to us. Four generations lived together in the large house.  

And then a letter finally arrived. It told us that we should go to the embassy in Jakarta to pick up the visa. No sooner said than done. We went back - first by bus, then by ferry and then by train, which took an eternity. Over 24 hours later, we finally arrived back in Jakarta. We checked into another room at the well-known youth hostel.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n

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Rolf, the fastest motorcyclist in Bali, 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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Rice terraces, Bali 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n
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Farewell to Bali, Kuta Beach<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Saying goodbye to our lovely and kind hosts. Grandma stood there topless and cried a lot. Then we took a tuk-tuk to the airport. The building was made entirely of wood. We entered, went to check-in and practically didn't have to queue - there were hardly any other people there.  

I put my rucksack on the conveyor belt. That's when I noticed a European-looking man in uniform standing behind the check-in clerk. He asked for our vaccination cards, looked at them and said: \"You can't fly to Australia because your cholera vaccination has expired.\"  

It was the first time since we had left Switzerland that someone had actually asked for our vaccination card and looked at it closely. We were blindsided. Practically no more money, and our Indonesia visa expired exactly on December 31, 1973 - the day of our departure.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n

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Farewell to Bali, Kuta Beach<\/strong><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

The employee gave us back our rucksacks. What should we do? We looked at each other perplexed and had no solution at the moment. After a while, when the Australian health officer had left the counter, the check-in clerk called out to us quietly and said: \"It's no problem. Do you see that little wooden house across the road? Go over there. The man in the office will sort it out.\"  

We went over, entered and explained the situation to the Indonesian health officer. He just said, \"No problem, sir.\" He took a date stamp, simply turned the date back and stamped our vaccination cards so that it would match in the event of an inspection.  

The relief we both felt was indescribable. We told him we were sorry, we had almost no money left to give him. He simply replied: \"No problem, sir, someone else wants to pay for you.\"  

Back in the main building, we went to check-in again. The Australian was no longer there. We checked in and were soon able to board the plane and leave paradise Bali.  <\/p>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n

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Funeral Ceremony, Bali, 1974<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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Letter from the Australian Embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia. Confirmation that our visas can be picked up in Jakarta as work permits. <\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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Impressions<\/h2>\n\t\t
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Port of Parapat, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Peeling an onion, Samosir Island, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Nainggolan, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Lightning storm Lake Toba, Sumatra 1973<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n<\/div>\n\n<\/div>\n
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