A Warm Minangkabau Welcome
Flying from Jakarta to Padang, one cannot help but be impressed by the natural beauty flitting below. Island after island, from impressive bulk to miniscule speck, verdant highland to sea-swept atoll, hover tantalizingly in the window, then vanish. The startling blue of the sea seems stolen from a travel brochure, and the whole summons every cliché of tropical adventure to the traveler’s tongue.
On landing in Padang, the impression is mitigated by the populous confusion of a tightly packed city, in which a varied economy teeming with shops, signs, street carts, etc. wrangles for attention. The tortuous streets are lined with vendors of every species and their clientele, with pedestrians, motorbikes, carts, cars, curiously constructed home-made transport, dogs, goats, and chickens. This limits the pace of driving, giving ample time to savor the bustle.
Even through this tumult, though, the natural beauty breaks through, with glimpses of the gleaming shore and the thick forests of the hills flickering on either side. The architecture, too, while generally made up of shack-like structures housing miniature restaurants or refreshment stalls, parts around the occasional majestic construction in the Minangkabau (West Sumatra’s indigenous race) swooping buffalo-horn style, roofs low in the middle but sweeping up to sharp points that tower in the sky.
I had arrived in the airport after an irritating kerfuffle with my flights, courtesy Singapore Air, whose otherwise excellent service fell down rather heavily in the matter of arranging connecting flights. I was unsure whether my last-minute messages to my hosts in Padang had arrived, and it was with a certain trepidation that I emerged from the airport’s frigid air-conditioning into the solid buffet of tropical heat outside.
My communications were received, however, and I was greeted shortly by the extremely friendly faces of Reza and Haykal, two of my colleagues here at PUSaKO, who had arrived with a thoroughly polished car to transport myself and my rather overfed luggage – luxury indeed. As we inched our way through streets engorged with motorbikes they pointed out numerous sites, and briefly touched on the history of the places and peoples of Sumatra. Particularly impressive was the looming structure of Padang’s great mosque, with the red roof divided into myriad horns that pierced the blue sky.
We tooled around for a while, heading to a temporary hotel to leave my luggage and meet another colleague, Ikhsan, to discuss the structure of my internship. After we spoke for a while, Haykal and Reza whisked me away for a celebratory arrival dinner, in grand style. We went to a restaurant called Lamun Ombak, which translates roughly to Drifting on the Wave, an exceptional place altogether. Due to the unexpected delays holding me at the airport in Singapore, I had been practically forced to gorge myself on the surprisingly delicious offerings at the airport lounge. Nonetheless, I found my appetite swiftly returning when confronted with the array before me.
Minangkabau cuisine is renowned throughout Indonesia – it occupies a somewhat similar position as Punjabi cuisine does in India. Universally famed and appreciated, Minang restaurants can be found across the archipelago. Padang, however, is its heartland. The essential nature of Minang cuisine is a vast and hugely varied buffet, with dishes ranging wildly from tofu sausages to the justly famous beef rendang (beef braised in coconut milk and spices until the sauce is almost entirely absorbed) to minced fish with lemongrass and green pepper steamed in banana leaves. The diners sit before a mountain of platters, heap rice on their plates, and dig in indiscriminately.
Stuffing ourselves to repletion, we washed down our glorious repast with one of Indonesia’s most glorious culinary contributions. In a land marked by humid heat and Islam, the demand for a refreshing drink is present in spades, but alcohol is frowned upon. In lieu of a cocktail, Indonesia offers a variety of iced drinks-cum-desserts, all delicious and extremely diverse in flavor. I had two at this meal, the ubiquitous es teler (iced fruits almost beyond number, from strands of jackfruit to the chewy red kolang-kaling), and kolak (fruits stewed in brown sugar and coconut milk), the latter on Haykal’s excellent suggestion.
I finally tottered out of the place feeling more like a snake wrapped around a gazelle than anything human, my tongue reminiscing upon the kolak. Reza drove me back to the hotel, where I could collapse in contented exhaustion. Well-fed and feeling thoroughly welcomed, this was a joyful entry indeed.