Medan, Indonesia: The Smells, the Chaos, and the Unexpected Calm
okay, so i landed in medan after a red-eye flight and immediately regretted wearing jeans. the heat hit me like a wet blanket and the humidity? it’s like breathing soup. i just checked and it’s 29°c there right now, feels like 33°c, so yeah… hope you like that kind of thing. the air was thick with clove cigarette smoke and the distant hum of scooters weaving through traffic like it was a video game with no rules. medan doesn’t ease you in-it throws you straight into the blender and hits puree.
i stayed in a little guesthouse near kesawan square, which is apparently the “old town” but honestly it felt more like a time capsule with better wifi. the walls were thin, the fan sounded like a small aircraft, and the shower had exactly two temperatures: “boiling” and “off.” but the owner, a guy named arif, made up for it by giving me a handwritten map of his favorite street food spots. that’s how you win me over.
“you want good martabak? go to the one near the mosque. not the fancy one. the one with the plastic chairs and the guy who yells.”
arief wasn’t wrong. the martabak was crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside, and topped with enough sugar to make my dentist cry. i also tried soto medan, which is basically a coconut curry soup that hugs your insides. someone told me that the best version is at a place called soto kesawan, but i went to a random cart instead and it was still amazing. that’s medan-you don’t need to be fancy to be fantastic.
walking around, i kept noticing how green everything was. not manicured-park green, but wild, overgrown, “nature is reclaiming this sidewalk” green. there were banana trees growing out of cracks in the pavement and vines climbing up power lines like they were training for a marathon. if you’re into plants, you’ll feel like you’re in a tropical greenhouse that forgot to charge admission.
i heard that the maimun palace is worth a visit if you’re into old architecture and selfie sticks. i skipped it and went to the raja prayer temple instead, which was quieter and had a weird energy that i couldn’t quite place. maybe it was the incense. maybe it was the silence. maybe it was the guy selling incense outside who looked at me like i owed him money.
if you get bored, *binjai and berastagi are just a short drive away. locals kept mentioning them like they were the promised land of cooler air and better views. i didn’t make it out there this time, but i’m already plotting a return trip just for that.
one thing i didn’t expect? the coffee. indonesian coffee is no joke, and medan’s version is strong enough to fuel a small revolution. i found a little spot called kopi juara* that served it thick and sweet, with a side of fried banana because why not. i sat there for two hours just watching the world go by, feeling like i’d accidentally stumbled into someone else’s everyday life.
and that’s the thing about medan-it’s not polished. it’s not “destination famous.” but it’s real. it’s loud, it’s sticky, it’s chaotic, and somehow, it works. i left with mosquito bites, a suitcase that smelled like fried food, and a weird sense of affection for a city that never once tried to impress me. and honestly? i kind of loved it for that.
