There are grand plans afoot to showcase the natural attractions of Lake Toba and its gorgeous surroundings. Chriswan Sungkono visits a new resort that promises eco-friendly practices in offering an awe-inspiring view.
We're out of breath and almost running out of hope. The sun is high in the sky, the fiery arrows of its rays piercing our pores. Our profuse sweating is perhaps the only consolation for our scorched skin.
We are, you see, just walking in a park, not wandering lost in a desert. But after an hour's meandering over asphalt roads and flower-studded pathways under this merciless sun, we can only agree that this is more like a deadly kind of a walk in the park.
My friend and I are somewhere in the 200-hectare Taman Simalem Resort park, more than 1,2000 meters above sea level in the Batak highlands of North Sumatra. Given our current circumstance, the name Simalem – which in the Batak Karo dialect means "cool and pleasing" – seems a cruel misnomer for the park (or at least the small portion of it that we've seen so far).
Were it not for the vista of Lake Toba from up high – a sight so tantalizing everyone we met on our journey told us to see it for ourselves – we wouldn't even have thought of coming here. But all praise aside, one thing is true about Simalem: the view of the lake from here is too precious to be seen from photographs alone.
The grandiosely named "Pearl of the Lake Toba" is the open-air plaza that affords this spectacular view. It also boasts a miniature of the lake and its island, Samosir, and is adorned with patches of blooming flowers. The plaza, the resort's central point, is neatly designed, but what really catches the eye is the view of the lake itself.
We trek up an incline from a fountain toward the Kodon-kodon Café (named after a nearby village, as with most of the sites in the resort), about 3 kilometers from the main entrance. By now, this midday hike has become almost the opposite of fun. So the instant we come across a car, we flag it down.
The car happens to be the park's own, used to transport workers to and fro within the complex. There's more good fortune along with our ride: the driver, Karo native Haryadi Ginting, is accompanied by Anwar Rizza, a West Javanese like myself, who's in charge of managing the entire estate.
"It can be demanding if you try exploring Simalem on foot," Anwar says of our crazy undertaking. With more than 6 kilometers of road, it's futile for pedestrians to visit all the sites.
"Most people come by bus, car or at least motorbike," he explains.
The entrance fees vary for each type of vehicle, and on weekends are 50 percent higher.
Taman Simalem Resort is an ambitious work in progress, and its full form will combine, among other attractions, agribusiness and research centers, organic large-scale farms, a zoo, a nine-hole high-handicap golf course, a camping ground deep in the jungle, an amphitheater with Lake Toba as the stupendous background, and a plush eco-holiday resort, all in one enormous location.
"Our main idea was initially agro-tourism, which is why in this first stage of construction the buildings we're finishing are made for that purpose," Anwar says.
"We own more than 40 hectares of farmland where our farmers grow organic fruit such as avocado, passion fruit, orange, even tea and coffee.
"The convention center, resort hotel, everything else came later in the blueprint. They'll be built in stages two and three."
Its strategic location, straddling the three North Sumatran regencies of Karo, Simalungun and Dairi, makes the Taman Simalem Resort a crucial player in the tourism industry due to its massive potential for taxable income once it's fully open to the public. Little wonder, then, that the three regional administrations keep arguing whose jurisdiction the resort falls into.
"Much of our land, including the entrance gate, is in Karo territory," Anwar says.
"The property sits on the seven hills of Merek, a subdistrict of Karo. And I'm going to take you to the highest. You can't beat the view from there," he brags.
Minutes later, we alight from the car on rather flat terrain to see proof of Anwar's statement. Here we are, on one of the seven hills, and from this height Lake Toba looks electrifying in its own exotic shades of blue, from vivid to almost translucent; its surface so peaceful and so vast, a glossy sheet of the purest sky.
"It's magnetic," Anwar says, finally breaking the silence that the contemplation of Toba's never-ending allure has brought on. He doesn't seem to believe his eyes, though I'm sure he must have seen this sight many times, indeed on a daily basis.
"This is what keeps people coming through the years. The beauty is overwhelming."
On a perfectly clear day like this, you can see as far as Parapat on Toba's far eastern shore, a distance of about 50 kilometers as the crow flies. Parapat, the most popular spot for Toba-bound tourists, takes shape as an assemblage of pale white dots against the bluish topography of land and lake. From our perch, 1,600 meters above sea level, the pretty fishing villages of Tongging and Silalahi on the lakeshore look like miniatures.
On a knoll near our parked car stands a solitary pine tree. It's fully grown, yet the rest of the earth is barren, with the occasional patch of grass.
"It's been like this since we bought the land," Anwar explains. "Nothing here save that tree. And we won't take it down. Instead, we'll build a resort around it, and then name it One Tree Hill Villa."
The lonely tree is testament to the eco-friendly practices of the Taman Simalem Resort management. The investors, a consortium of Indonesian-owned enterprises and a Singaporean investment company, are serious about conserving the area's ecosystem. One way they show their concern is by not felling trees needlessly: buildings and roads here are built in a meticulous fashion to minimize the cutting down of trees.
"In fact, we've more than made up for the number of trees we've felled by planting more than 20,000 new ones around the resort so far," Anwar claims.
"The boss wants all of us to respect the environment with almost fanatical zeal. We've even bought and maintain 135 hectares of virgin forest buffering the adjacent government-designated 'national reserve'," he adds, pointing to the riot of green from the rainforests blanketing the hills. "It's all ours."
Moving on, we stop by the Tian Zhu Chan Si temple complex atop another hill. The staccato of drilling and hammering punctures the air as workers busily carve fanciful dragons and phoenixes on marble slabs. The buildings, a take on medieval Chinese structures, are a model of ancient artisanship, with the lake as the backdrop.
At last we arrive at the Tongging Café, beside the hill where the temples stand. Anwar invites us to redeem our tickets for a free canapé. While we wait, we stroll over to the nearby open-air auditorium. Youngsters take turns posing on the stage and the seats, while their friends endlessly take pictures with their camera phones.
When we return to the café veranda, two cups of tea and two plates of banana fritters, smothered in shaved chocolate and cheese, are set out on the table. Anwar, meanwhile, is talking to someone at the next table, whom he later introduces as his colleague, Desman Kaban, one of the park rangers at the resort.
Kaban, born and raised in Karo, is loquacious when it comes to narrating his personal life. With a degree in English literature, he feels the wilderness is his second true love, right behind his wife. So after a stint as an English teacher, he decided to return to the wild when the opportunity came along.
"It's like what I used to do when I was younger: guide foreign tourists into the jungle, climb mountains, camp – adventure, basically," he says.
Kaban also preaches his love of nature to the young kids who come to Simalem on field trips.
"I teach them to be loving and kind to nature, to all beings, and most importantly to other human beings," he says.
"People increasingly seem to lack that love nowadays."
As we tuck into the snacks, other guests at adjacent tables – two high-ranking officers from the Indonesian armed forces and their wives – join in the conversation. Clearly stunned by how the resort draws on Toba's unassailable beauty, one of them asks with unbridled excitement, "Who's behind all this?"
"There's a lot of speculation that the funding for Simalem's development comes from Thailand, Singapore or even South Korea," Anwar says. "That's not true."
It must be noted that the main investor is, in fact, Indonesian. Anwar's boss, the seemingly elusive investor, is none other than Tamin Sukardi, a leading figure in the tourism industry, who lists the first four-star resort hotel in Berastagi, North Sumatra, in his family's business portfolio.
When Anwar reveals plans for a cable-car facility, one of the men goes all out: "Ah! Now I know why some of my friends who've been here say Simalem will be the Genting Highlands of Indonesia!" Still in the same breath, he rambles along, "But I think that's definitely an understatement. The landscape is much, much more dramatic here. It's beyond beautiful."
"Well, you can't beat Toba," Anwar concludes. It begins raining, then, and we beat a hasty retreat to the car.
The thunder rumbles overhead. With the previously clear sky now overcast, the cerulean lake turns silvery white, a field of glass transmuting into liquid metal all at once.
That's how breathtaking Toba can be.
Getting there
From Medan, hire a car (better bring a driver) or take a public bus (whose drivers often perform death-defying acts on the road – a must-do for adrenaline junkies) to Berastagi (90 minutes). From there, take another bus to Merek Terminal, then hire a motorized rickshaw (becak motor) to take you to Simalem. The whole trip takes less than three hours, weather permitting (the potholed road can be risky when it rains).
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