After a week’s diving on Bunaken I was lucky enough to catch the KM Karuna from Bitung, the port for Manado, at the top of Sulawesi. The liner cruised the jungled shore heading east to Borneo. The German-built ship is spacious and only one other Mistah is aboard. A Dutchman. Even after fourhundred years of harsh rule, the Indonesian don’t seem to hold a grudge against this Netherlander. Hans and I drink beer with his friend. They are traveling deck class and sleeping outside. Heading to Borneo.

The Gulf War has scared away all the tourists even backpackers from this Muslim country. NO one has bothered me since Ternate. Saddam is losing the war. People have accept the defeat.

I have a four-bed stateroom to myself on the portside. I stand at the railing with my Nell’s map picking out the small settlements. I stare through my binoculars. All the bigger villages seem the same. A mosque, a police station, and people going about their day. None of them pay attention to the KM Karuna. Only the minarets are taller than the palms. Inland the mountains are covered with thick forests. Most of the houses are on stilts.

I’m traveling second-class. Comfortable. Around sunset the ship veers west from land into the sunset and we cross the sea heading to Kalimantan or eastern Borneo. Night falls and I stand at the stern watching the stars. I wish I had a book of constellation.

A little past midnight the liner pulls into Balikpapan, an old Bugis village transformed by the oil book. About 200 passengers came off until bright lights. The Dutchman got off. I am the only Westerner here. No storms unlike the crossing from Ternate to Bitung. Smooth sailing. Drinking beer, listening to the music from the Muslim passengers, their prayers at dawn. That night the only lights at sea was a of this line passing of this liner.

Landfall was in Tawaeli the next morning. A few hundred passengers got off and I shared a taxi heading south to Palu, where I would catch a bus up to Lake Poso. The Rough Guide has been a good travel companion and my Indonesian has been improving with every twon and city. We drove down the coast. Across the bay small mountains ran north to south. I got a small room clean and quiet. Nobody bothered to say hey mister. This is not really one of the top tourist destinations in Sulawesi.

Being on the equator it was hot and swampy. I bought a ticket for the lake and walked to the beach. The mountains behind the town were thick jungles. Palu is right on the equator. The sun fell at 6:00 and I went to eat at a Chinese restaurant. Food was sweet and salty. A Chinese woman took the stage and sang a love song in Cantonese. Looking back at the video of Hong Kong, she cried wishing she was in China or even Jakarta instead of in a backwater town of Sulawesi. The staff asked, if I wanted to sing a song. Big Bad Leroy Brown. It was on the list. Everyone laughed. I was the only silly Western in here and I felt good.