On that fateful day, waves more than 30 metres (100 feet) high lifted the 2,600-tonne electric generator barge from a point a few kilometres out to sea and flung it down on this plot of land, crushing homes and lives under its deadweight. It’s been here ever since.
The Indonesia beyond Bali is brimming with vibrant communities and customs
The Indonesia beyond Bali is brimming with vibrant communities and customs
Twenty years on, the city has turned its scars into tourist attractions and memorials.
The Kapal Apung, now a museum dedicated to the tragedy, is the final stop on a trip across the heart of Aceh, known mostly by the outside world for its hardline Islamic rigours. Like the rest of this journey, it turns my expectations on their head.
Museum PLTD Apung is a 15-minute walk from the Aceh Tsunami Museum, set on the southeastern corner of central Lapangan Blang Padang, a green park amid the city’s controlled chaos.
Dark like its history, the Tsunami Museum’s circular building is a reminder both of the past and to future generations that new calamities are always possible.
Outside, a police helicopter twisted into what looks like a metallic tennis ball sets the grim scale of the disaster.
But the people strolling the manicured gardens and modernist halls, filled with nuanced and informative exhibits, don’t seem too alarmed.
The other side of Lombok, where peaceful blend of religions teaches lessons
The other side of Lombok, where peaceful blend of religions teaches lessons
Seven years after the tsunami, in 2011, Banda Aceh hit the headlines for the treatment of local punk rock youths, who had been arrested and had their heads shaved with clippers, to be “re-educated” as pious Muslims.
I am visiting not just to check the pulse in Aceh 20 years after one of recent history’s most destructive natural disasters, but also to see whether the place is becoming more receptive to foreign ideas – and to tourism.
In August 2023, the state-owned Bank Syariah Indonesia (BSI) reversed a contested ban on non-Syariah-compliant banks by starting to accept international contactless Mastercards and Visa cards on its ATM network.
The move was introduced to “support the tourism sector in Aceh”, Saut Parulian Saragih, senior executive vice-president of digital banking at BSI, told the Indonesian press.
Truth be told, though, until now the only place in Aceh that has attracted tourists in any numbers is Pulau Weh, the island facing its capital. Indonesia’s northernmost point of any note, the less-conservative Weh is blessed with dive sites.
However, there must be more to Aceh’s tourism appeal than one island …
I land in Medan, capital of the neighbouring North Sumatra province, with the intention of taking a shared van to Kutacane, a sprawling town set in a valley on the southern flanks of Aceh’s forested interior.
The road passes the small towns of Blangkejeren and Takengon – the latter next to Lake Laut Tawar – then reconnects to the coastal highway at Bireuen, before reaching Banda Aceh.
My fears of a hellish trip along rough roads are eased as I board an angkot (a minivan) to Kutacane. “Bad roads? You’d be surprised at how nice Aceh’s asphalt is compared to North Sumatra’s,” says the friendly passenger seated next to me.
He’s right – despite snaking across hills on the five-hour journey, the road progressively improves as we get close to Kutacane, and will prove to be in remarkably good shape thereafter.
In Kutacane, I change transport to a bemo , which has seating arranged in two rows in the back of a van, to be driven another 45 minutes to my first stop.
The good, bad and ugly sides to Lombok, Komodo and Flores
The good, bad and ugly sides to Lombok, Komodo and Flores
Little more than a cluster of homes by the roadside, Ketambe is nevertheless a much more rewarding and less touristy location for wild orangutan encounters than Sumatra’s most popular wildlife spot, Bukit Lawang, which is on the opposite, southeastern side of Gunung Leuser National Park.
Between 20 and 30 individuals live wild around Ketambe and the next morning, I set out with young local guide Salat, one of the owners of Pak Mus Guest House, on a half-day search for primates.
When finding wildlife is the goal, the first hour of a trek is always filled with a sense of anticipation that makes one’s head jerk upwards every time a branch cracks or the wind blows and ruffles a thicket.
In truth, orangutans make a very peculiar sound as they carry their weight from tree to tree, a rhythmic cadence of folding branches that accompanies their slow advance high up in the canopy.
Besides a guide’s trained ear, what one needs most is luck – and for two hours, we go around in circles, slightly disheartened and confused by the wind rustling the foliage, the fluttering of tropical birds and the intense buzz of cicadas.
I am almost ready to give up, drenched in sweat as I sit next to Salat, resting on a fallen trunk.
“There,” he says, lifting his arm and pointing towards a thicket.
Slowly, the viridian colours of the foliage turn a blur of furry orange, and a young, solitary male – orangutans separate from their mothers after six to eight years and roam alone – comes into view, placidly plucking at the trees, choosing the best leaves for its never-ending lunch. These primates eat all day long.
Then come more sightings.
By 3pm, we have seen a mother and baby; two juveniles swinging from hanging lianas in a forest clearing, like the lead actors on a jungle stage; and another solitary young orangutan, which seems more surprised to see us than, by now, we are to see him.
There is only one road through Ketambe. It either returns to Kutacane or proceeds into the hills extending to the northwest.
It takes eight hours in another bemo on a good yet very winding mountain road to reach Takengon, which is at an altitude of 1,200 metres and is idyllically situated; the soaring coffee-growing Gayo hills towering around 26km- (16-mile) long Lake Laut Tawar.
Seen from the moving van at sunset, when hues of purple blanket the green mountain slopes, the lake looks like a dark, calm mirror.
Takengon is a compact, friendly town, its fresh air chillier than that in the lowlands, its bus station within walking distance of several simple yet clean homestay-type lodgings.
The first thing I do is find a coffee shop and order a cup of Gayo coffee. It has a roasty Arabica taste and a bittersweet aroma, a scent of these very mountains, and fills me with some much-needed warmth.
The best way to explore Takengon is by hiring some wheels – quite a challenge given the few tourists that make it to these parts. I finally find Gayo Travel, which is determined to develop affordable tourism services such as daily motorbike rental and excursions, and off I go.
The road out of Takengon runs along sinuous hills, skirting fields filled with bushes whose branches are bent by plump coffee cherries.
It’s a 7km ride to Pantan Terong, a viewpoint set at 1,800 metres above the spot where Takengon touches Lake Laut Tawar’s northern end. In the morning light, the waters shine at the bottom of jigsaw hills, inviting me to ride further around the lake.
Skirting the northern shore, I stop at the Putri Pukes cave, where rock formations resemble human figures – local legend has it that a lovelorn princess transformed into one of these stones.
Back on the road, the well-paved asphalt keeps me glued to the shore, passing floating boats, waterside villages and beautiful stretches of coast where entrepreneurial young Indonesians have set up campsites and arty cafes by the water.
Having another cup of Gayo here is, of course, a must.
When I get back to Takengon, to return the motorcycle, I realise I am a bit low on cash, but still have a six-hour van ride to get to my final destination, Banda Aceh, to pay for.
So I put Aceh’s tourism capabilities to the test: there’s only one BSI branch in Takengon, so I cross my fingers and hope against having to hitchhike all the way north.
A bemused guard who is clearly unused to helping foreigners calls the branch manager to “assist me” in the moment of truth.
As the two stand by me, looking from the side, I insert my Visa card, key in my PIN, and … gulp! Rupiah notes begin rolling out.
It’s time to hit the road for Aceh – where international tourists and their cards are no longer haram.
