Hitchhiking in Indonesia: Tanjung Balai to Kisaran
23rd of January, 2025.
A man gives me a lift until McDonald’s. I just want to check my messages one more time before boarding the ferry.
I arrive at the ferry port around 9 a.m., and it’s already full of people. And no ferry departs before 11 o’clock. There’s luggage all over the place, as they must be weighted, and their owners are hanging around the place. I am the only foreigners from the West.
I’ve read in other post, from June 2024, that it was a chaos and very difficult to get to know where to go and what to do. I disagree. At least in January 2025, the two tables selling tickets had a big sign with the names of the available destinations from port Dickson: Dumai and Tanjung Balai. Plus, all the personnel is super informative, always keeping an eye on me, checking if I needed any assistance.
When you first arrive and go to your destination table, no matter if you already have a ticket or not, they will take your passport and bring it inside for confirmation. In a few minutes they bring it back together with many others. Don’t worry! The ladies responsible for the tickets are very good about remembering your Western face and giving your passport back to you.
There’s one weighting queue for the checking-in luggage, and another for handbag. The weighting goes according to your destination, so they will first weight the luggage of all passengers going to Dumai, and later, to Tanjung Balai. Once it’s time for boarding, a very nice man by the door, check your ticket and passport quickly, and depending on the case, he will not even ask you to weigh your handbag, as he can tell it’s less than 9 kg. It was my case.
Once inside, it’s time for the immigration to stamp your passport and then you are ready to go.
The ferry is quite big, even though doesn’t look like from outside. As I m going to Tanjung Balai, there’s very few people onboard, as Dumai is the main destination, being closer to Riau, while Tanjung Balai is closer to Medan. For me, it doesn’t make much sense, as Medan is the capital of Sumatra island.
They serve lunch on board, a very simple meal but enough to fill you up if you are hungry and haven’t brought any snacks with you. There’s unlimited free water (those cheap plastic glasses), and a few big tv screens displaying movies. And it’s quite cold.
For reasons I don’t know, it takes more than five hours for us to arrive, while on the ticket it says 4.5 hours. After the long queue for immigration (no stamp this time, only a small white sticker, showing the date I must depart), I start walking outside the ferry port sometime after 18.00 hours. A wave of transport drivers slightly piss me off, as it seems they don’t understand the meaning of “no, thank you!”.
I forgot to get directions from here to the main road leading to town. Trying to ask around is a bit difficult, as it seems that nobody understands simple body language, or are unable to understand me when I am simply pronouncing the name of Tanjung Balai. But as people are trying to help anyway, I finally figure out where to go, but by that time, there’s already a huge crowd of people surrounding me.
As I keep walking, and everybody is staring at me and saying something, I actually feel OK and not irritated. It feels as they are good people and willing to help.
I don’t really know exactly where I am going, so I just keep walking.
As it gets dark, I start asking around, in family places, if I can stay with them overnight. After a few “no”, when I am trying to talk with some youth people, in a cellphone shop, a short and humble man overhear me, and in his little English tells me I can come and stay with his family. I accept.
After a few minutes in his motorbike, Mr. Ali and I arrive to his mechanic shop. I remember passing in front of it, and I also remember looking into his wife’s face. She smiles all the time, very tenderly, and it seems super OK with the fact that I am staying with them tonight.
Soon enough, a wave of young boys invade the shop. I try to make them speak a bit of English, and they are happy to try. We take photos and then soon they live. A friend of Mr. Ali comes over, and even though he cannot speak English, he is interested in foreigners (as he says), and have met some of them. But I must say that the way he stares at me is not very pleasant.
Tuti, Mr. Ali’s wife, prepares a mattress on the floor for me, with clean bed linen, in the living room. I though I would be camping outside! They buy some fried chicken (KFC style), rice and salad for dinner. Mr. Ali’s daughter it seems very surprise with my presence, and even though she is quite shy, she asks me some questions using translate. Their son, by the other hand, stays completely in the dark.
Next morning, it’s raining. I have lantong for breakfast while waiting for the rain to stop. Lantong is a curry dish, with chicken and boiled egg, and some pieces of a steamed flour though, and it’s a common dish for breakfast.
They are so caring that they made and print a certificate, with my name, making me a member of their Vespa Gourp.
Mr. Ali’s friend want for me to meet his friend’s mother, Herlina, who lives in a nearby town called Kisaran, on the way to my next destination, Air Terjun Sipisopiso. After the rain stops, he takes me there in his motorbike.
Herlina is a lovely woman and I am happy to meet her! Immediately after we meet, she already invites me to stay a few days with her. If it wasn’t for my 30 days Visa, and my hectic trip around Indonesia, I would accept gladly. We talk about many different things, and I suggest Workaway to her, as there are some things she would like to have fix in her home. Around noon, Mr. Ali’s friend takes me back to the road.
I wait for five hours by the road and nobody picks me up. Nobody even offer to take me to a nearest town or something. Strange.
A man who can speak English tells me that nobody will take me for free. I love when people who have never hitchhiked before tell me, with such certain, something about it. Even when I tell him about my experience hitchhiking around the world, he insists by saying: “This is Indonesia”. Pitiable. The lack of faith of certain people is pitiable. But at least, through this guy, a soldier from the army offers some help. He says that tomorrow, around 10 o’clock, he will go back to his home town, Siantar, which is about 2 hours from my destination, so I can come with him.
Even though this soldier gives me some hope, I still get really pissed with the army when they don’t let me to use the toilet there. Bullshit! To be completely fair, the same soldier who offered me a lift, was just about to let me in when some other officers stopped him.
After 17.00 hours, I start asking for shelter to the people who stop and ask me if I need help. A few people gather around, and mostly one man in his motorbike, with whose wife I am talking on the phone, and a lady with her son, seem able to help. In the end, Laily says I can come to her house. The man who was also trying to help, offer to take me there in his motorbike, so we follow Laily.
I make my camp in front of Laily’s house. Unfortunately, is right by the street, so cars and motorbikes are passing all the time, and there’s also a coffee shop just beside, and dozens of motorbikes are parking there every minute.
Laily gives me an Indonesian dish called Ayam Samorr for dinner. It consists of chicken in a syrup sweet sauce, some vegetables in curry sauce, another set of vegetables in a delicious but super spice peanut sauce, and rice. She also gives me pulot, which is sticky rice with some shredded coconut. Everything is delicious!
When I am ready to go to sleep, the man who was trying to help me earlier, and gave me a lift here in his motorbike, arrives. His wife is with him and also his two boys. They bring me some food (a nice egg sandwich, a huge bread with cheese, and a big bottle of water). They talk with Laily, and the wife is actually a bit worried for me camping here on the streets, but Laily tells her that there’s a security boot across the street, as there are military offices there.
Next morning, Laily prepares me some Nasi Goreng (fried rice), and here in Indonesia it always comes together with a fried egg and some salad. She makes herself, as she has a small food shop here too. It’s very good but in some how very different from the fried rice of Malaysia.
After making a short video for her social media, she gives me a lift all the way to the same spot where I was yesterday. My plan is to start hitchhiking around 8 a.m., and if nobody going further than Siantar stops, I only hope that the officer from the army will come.
10 Years Around the World 