Sulawesi

We almost missed our early morning flight from Kuala Lumpur to Manado, Sulawesi. We pushed through the closed boarding gate and we were the last to board the aircraft. Officially, we attribute it to the long immigration queue but once through, the quick dash into the duty free shop may have contributed to our close call. Despite a flurry of hotel construction, Manado is an unlikely tourist destination. Like many Indonesian cities, it's forgettable.

A 9 hour road journey brought us to Gorontalo. The city has a colonial heritage with wide streets and a smattering of old Dutch architecture. It is also high on the "Hello Mister!" count - a friendly Indonesian greeting to foreign visitors of both sexes. Gorontalo public transportation is mostly by "bentor", a motorbike with a two-seat bench in front. The drivers are required to wear helmets (ill-fitting) but the more exposed passengers are not so encumbered. Bentors are a fun, quirky way to travel, though we were exhausted by the amount of hand waving that was required of us by the friendly inhabitants.

The main Indonesian news story was a Sulawesi ferry disaster that claimed over 200 lives as we boarded the wooden MV Puspita. Our 4 berth cabin that we shared with two Dutch cyclists had two decorative life jackets nailed to the wall. Calm seas prevailed and we slept right through the equatorial crossing. It felt like a passage on the African Queen as we arrived at the Togean Islands, the following morning.

The Malenge Lostari bungalows are 28km south of the equator, with endemic monkeys and tarsiers, and plenty of hornbills in the surrounding near-equatorial forest. We settled into a routine of snorkeling and hammock-time on our spacious shaded deck. Fish, supplied by the local Bajo ("sea gypsy") people, was the mainstay for lunch and dinner. Electricity was provided in the evenings by a small generator. Five days without internet or roads passed by quickly.

Our next Togean Island stop was Katupat (Fadhila Cottages). But all was not well at the island resort; we walked into the middle of an ongoing nasty divorce. We weren't sure who was in charge but in the end, we figured whoever controlled the keys also controlled the cash box. In Africa, we chased lions and in the Togeans, we chased lion fish: 27 in one 45 minute span.

Kadadiri is the main tourist centre of the Togean Islands; at times there were a dozen or so tourists spread out over 3 bungalow operations, sometimes double that. We stayed at the Black Marlin Cottages with the usual hammock, snorkeling and fish meals twice a day. Cicadas buzzed through the day. We had hermit crabs on the floor and at dusk small bats dashed in and out of our comfy room. We would put on our fins on the steps of our bungalow and then stride onto the house reef. One evening, we noticed an influx of tourists passing through the gates of paradise, from the nearby Paradise Resort, to our bar because they had run out of beer next door. We could imagine the newspaper headline; "No Beer in Paradise".

After a further 5 days without internet, we shifted over to the neighbouring "Pondok Lestari", Kadadiri, run by a local Bajo family. We had a beachfront bungalow, hammock, 3 meals a day (fish 2X daily), daily snorkeling boat trip and an evening fishing trip; the only place that we have stayed at where we caught our own meals! The cost was $7/day/person but the experience was priceless; no credit cards accepted. Everyone who stayed with the lovely family had an excellent experience, without alcohol (or drugs) - a slightly unsettling thought. Highly Recommended.

The Togean Islands retain a wonderful charm, helped by somewhat awkward access. We could have stayed longer but returned to Gorontalo by an overnight boat to be surprised by our friend Leo (Honduras 1997) who had arisen at 4:00 a.m. to greet us at the dock. We all continued on through to Manado and onto Bunaken, a Mecca for underwater enthusiasts. Sheila had developed an ear problem in the Togeans, but the infection cleared so she could get back into the water. Parts of the Bunaken Marine Park have avoided the bombing from fisherman that plagues much of Indonesian reefs. The drop-offs, coral and fish are magnificent. Snorkeling along the Bunaken reef wall beside streaming fusiliers and black surgeon fish is like a scaled down marine version of the East African wildebeest migration.