Lhokseumawe ke Banda Aceh 14 Nov

Visit what's known as negera lain, another country. Lhokseumawe is famous for its natural gas and its fertiliser industry. A common complaint among the locals is that these resources have been exploited, with all the money funnelling its way back to Jakarta/Java, while the community gets nothing. "The Conflict," as it is called, much the same way as in Ireland they talk about "The Troubles," is connected to this sense of grievance. Over 30 years, 1000s were killed as Acehnese sought independence. The Indonesian military response to any challenge to the integrity of Indonesia as a country is, as they've demonstrated in other areas, brutal. The peace process was underway prior to the tsunami, but the situation was very dodgy. Education institutions were targetted/razed. Two rectors were murdered. The tsunami brought peace. But some of the old inequalities persist. Within Lhokseumawe is a compound complex, where employees of the natural gas industry live, work, pray, and play. Hospital, mosque, country club, golf club, school, shops, market - it's all there. Roads are wide, streets are tree-lined and clean. Traffic is almost non-existent. Views magnificent. Locals, though, are not allowed. When our 30 minute tour was over we returned to the real world, Indonesia.

Islamic unversities are open on Saturdays, so I'm off there to meet the rector. Not sure why I'm meeting him, but I put in an appearance. Sometimes I feel as though I'm the trophy academic, the trophy bule, for display purposes only. Ironically, the newer campus we visit is housed in an appropriated compound complex once onwed by Exxon, I think. When the company abandoned the city, the compound sat empty. Then Iskandar's university petitioned the local government for its use. Houses that were once for the elite workers are now offices.

A terrible thing to forget to carry your own stash of toilet paper.

1.50pm. Leaving for Banda Aceh. 15 minutes after we leave we stop for lunch. Arrive at 9.30pm.
Highlights: seeing Iskandar in his village, where we stopped to visit his parents, completely at home; the phrase "margin for error" constantly invading my thoughts as we overtook or were overtaken; beautiful scenery, with stretches of green, palms, ricefields, mountains; the best roads in Indonesia, thanks to post-tsunami reconstruction; stopping for tea at the warung of one of Iskandar's mates, watching how to make Acehnese noodles, and, on eating them, learning the Acehnese way of saying "delicious" - mangat that.

Biggest highlight: crashing into bed.