We live in a small district — not quite a village, but definitely not a city. It’s the kind of place where you can find everything you need, but not always what you want. Groceries? Check. Pharmacy? Sure. Fried rice at every corner? Absolutely. But when it comes to fun things like malls, movie theaters, or food that isn’t drowned in chili sauce — well, for that, you go to Medan.
Medan, the provincial capital, is where all the “cool stuff” lives: tall buildings, crowded streets, giant shopping centers, and restaurants that actually serve pizza that looks like pizza, not just sweet bread with sausage. It’s also the only place within reach where you can get a real burger — the kind that’s juicy, cheesy, slightly messy, and doesn’t come wrapped in a sheet of notebook paper.
So, last weekend, my sister and I looked at each other and thought, “We need a burger.” Not just any burger, but a proper one.
It just so happened that I was on semester break and staying at home. And apparently, I was the only person on the planet willing to entertain my sister’s wild idea: traveling all the way to Medan just to eat a burger. So I said yes — partly out of boredom, partly because, well... burgers.
We hopped on my sister’s motorbike and rode twenty minutes to the train station. It was a sunny day, the kind that makes you question all your life decisions just by how much you're sweating under your helmet. But we made it, parked the bike, and bought our train tickets — which, by the way, cost about the same as a medium-sized bottle of water. A burger journey powered by budget rail travel? We were really doing this.
Medan, the provincial capital, is where all the “cool stuff” lives: tall buildings, crowded streets, giant shopping centers, and restaurants that actually serve pizza that looks like pizza, not just sweet bread with sausage. It’s also the only place within reach where you can get a real burger — the kind that’s juicy, cheesy, slightly messy, and doesn’t come wrapped in a sheet of notebook paper.
So, last weekend, my sister and I looked at each other and thought, “We need a burger.” Not just any burger, but a proper one.
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| Yes, this baby |
We hopped on my sister’s motorbike and rode twenty minutes to the train station. It was a sunny day, the kind that makes you question all your life decisions just by how much you're sweating under your helmet. But we made it, parked the bike, and bought our train tickets — which, by the way, cost about the same as a medium-sized bottle of water. A burger journey powered by budget rail travel? We were really doing this.
As the train started to move, I looked out the window and tried not to laugh. There we were, two small-towners riding a train — not for a job interview, not for a family event, not even for a concert — but for a burger. A piece of meat between two buns had summoned us across districts.
The view outside was classic countryside: wide green rice fields, slow-moving farmers, and the occasional buffalo doing its thing. Peaceful, familiar, almost meditative. But as we neared Medan, everything changed. The green disappeared, replaced by blocks of houses, buzzing traffic, and tall buildings packed like books on a shelf. From rice fields to high-rises in less than two hours — it felt like teleportation with snacks involved.
The view outside was classic countryside: wide green rice fields, slow-moving farmers, and the occasional buffalo doing its thing. Peaceful, familiar, almost meditative. But as we neared Medan, everything changed. The green disappeared, replaced by blocks of houses, buzzing traffic, and tall buildings packed like books on a shelf. From rice fields to high-rises in less than two hours — it felt like teleportation with snacks involved.
And somewhere between the fields and the skyscrapers, I realized something kind of beautiful: craving something silly can lead to the most unexpected little adventures. You don’t always need a big reason to go somewhere — sometimes, a burger is reason enough.
Lucky for us, the burger place was right across the street from the station. No need for maps, no angkot dramas, and no wandering through unknown alleys. We just crossed the road — carefully, because Medan traffic doesn’t care about your dreams — and there it was, shining like a greasy little temple of joy.
Now, to be clear, going to Medan isn’t exactly a big deal. People from our area go back and forth every day — for work, for school, for business. It’s not that far, but not exactly around the corner either. It's close enough to be reachable, but far enough to make you think twice before going just for lunch.
And that’s what made our trip funny. Not the destination — but the reason. I’m sure hundreds of people ride the same train every day, but how many of them are doing it for a burger? No meetings, no errands, no family to visit — just cravings, curiosity, and a deep, shared belief that good food is worth traveling for.
We stepped inside, ordered fast (because we knew exactly what we came for), and soon we were face to face with two proper burgers — warm, thick, cheesy, and unapologetically juicy. The kind that doesn’t fall apart in your hands, or need to be rescued with extra chili sauce. This was the real deal.
We ate in silence at first, the kind of silence that happens only when something lives up to the hype. One bite in and we exchanged a glance that said, “Yup. Totally worth it.”
This wasn’t just a burger. This was the burger. The kind you simply don’t find anywhere in our district — not in roadside stalls, not in school canteens, not even in the “wannabe” cafés that serve toast and call it brunch. This burger had toasted buns, real beef, melted cheese, and possibly a touch of happiness folded into every bite.
And yes, we went all that way just for this. Was it a little crazy? Maybe. Would we do it again? Absolutely.
Looking back, it still makes me smile — the idea that two small-towners like us hopped on a motorbike, caught a train, crossed a city street, all in pursuit of one thing: a really good burger. It wasn’t a grand adventure, not the kind you write songs or poems about. But it was ours. Simple, silly, and strangely satisfying.
Sometimes, the best memories don’t come from big events or faraway places. Sometimes, they come from saying yes to a craving, yes to a short trip with someone you love, and yes to the kind of story you’ll laugh about years later. Because it wasn’t just about the burger. It was about choosing joy — even if it came with melted cheese and a side of fries.
Lucky for us, the burger place was right across the street from the station. No need for maps, no angkot dramas, and no wandering through unknown alleys. We just crossed the road — carefully, because Medan traffic doesn’t care about your dreams — and there it was, shining like a greasy little temple of joy.
Now, to be clear, going to Medan isn’t exactly a big deal. People from our area go back and forth every day — for work, for school, for business. It’s not that far, but not exactly around the corner either. It's close enough to be reachable, but far enough to make you think twice before going just for lunch.
We stepped inside, ordered fast (because we knew exactly what we came for), and soon we were face to face with two proper burgers — warm, thick, cheesy, and unapologetically juicy. The kind that doesn’t fall apart in your hands, or need to be rescued with extra chili sauce. This was the real deal.
We ate in silence at first, the kind of silence that happens only when something lives up to the hype. One bite in and we exchanged a glance that said, “Yup. Totally worth it.”
This wasn’t just a burger. This was the burger. The kind you simply don’t find anywhere in our district — not in roadside stalls, not in school canteens, not even in the “wannabe” cafés that serve toast and call it brunch. This burger had toasted buns, real beef, melted cheese, and possibly a touch of happiness folded into every bite.
And yes, we went all that way just for this. Was it a little crazy? Maybe. Would we do it again? Absolutely.
Looking back, it still makes me smile — the idea that two small-towners like us hopped on a motorbike, caught a train, crossed a city street, all in pursuit of one thing: a really good burger. It wasn’t a grand adventure, not the kind you write songs or poems about. But it was ours. Simple, silly, and strangely satisfying.
Sometimes, the best memories don’t come from big events or faraway places. Sometimes, they come from saying yes to a craving, yes to a short trip with someone you love, and yes to the kind of story you’ll laugh about years later. Because it wasn’t just about the burger. It was about choosing joy — even if it came with melted cheese and a side of fries.
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