Chapter 40
Frank and Maria sat on the top deck of the aqua green painted ferry that transported locals and the odd traveller from Parapat across to Samosir Island, a volcanic landmass that sat in the middle of Lake Toba in Sumatra. The air was fresh at this higher level and clouds hung low, obscuring parts of the mountains in the distance. They disembarked at a small drop off point that consisted of a wooden platform and walked to the reception and restaurant area that rented out traditional Batak houses that sat alongside the lakes.
The proprietor was a short, stocky Indonesian with a jovial face that reminded Frank of the British comedian Benny Hill. “For you, I have lovely Batak house just available,” he had said with unbridled enthusiasm and charm. He had led them back down to the la
