Garuda Indonesia Colours Magazine March 2015 | 页面 112

110

Travel | Berastagi

Berastagi sits high (at about 1,300m)
between two of Sumatra’s most active
volcanoes. Mount Sibayak (2,212m)
commands its place on the skyline due
north, while Mount Sinabung (2,460m)
towers even higher due west. The fertile
volcanic hills in between them sprawl with
rich rainforests, picturesque green fields
and of course the town itself, which enjoys
a cool climate all year round thanks to
its strategic location. It’s no wonder this
hilly little town is a popular weekend
getaway for my fellow Medan-ites.
Berastagi is more than just a small town,
however. It’s actually the main town here –
with a population of just fewer than 50,000
– and technically it’s a subdistrict of the
greater Karo Regency, linking the Karo
highlands to the coastal city of Medan.
I’m compelled to call it a small town for its
charmingly quaint surrounds. Up to the
1900s Berastagi was but a village. It rose
to prominence as a town in the 1920s
when Dutch colonialists, attracted by
the lush environs and cool climate,
built a boarding school here.
Before being settled by the Dutch,
the village was known for its rice agriculture
and trade, which is where the town gets its
name; Berastagi in the local dialect means
‘rice store’. Today you’ll find more than rice
being sold in the markets. Berastagi is
famous for its vegetables, fruits and
flowers, which flourish in the cooler
climate, and its very fertile soil.

The view of the lush green valley
and dense national forest along
the route to Berastagi.

I’m lucky to be just an
hour and a half away from
Berastagi. In Medan we’re
well accustomed to the hustle
and bustle, equatorial heat
and traffic that come with
living in one of Indonesia’s
ever-burgeoning capital cities.
But just under 70km south of
the city, Berastagi offers
respite from all of that.

One weekend I took the drive down from
Medan, passing several villages and dense
national forests along narrow roads coiling
tightly upslope. After a good hour of driving
I switched off my car’s aircon and cracked
the window – letting in great wafts of
revitalising, crisp, cool mountain-fresh air.
About ten more minutes up the road I pulled
in at my first stop: a steamed and barbecued
sweetcorn roadside stall. I ordered one of
each, along with a hot sweet tea to quench
my thirst. The location of the roadside stall
is a bit precarious – at the edge of the (very)
narrow cliff – but the construct