The Night of the Southern Cross
I blinked at the unfamiliar constellations. It wasn’t a full moon, yet the fans of the banana leaves and the feathery bushels of oil palms stood out as clearly as if they had been drawn in crayon.
To locate the Southern Cross, I tried to get a bearing from Ursa Majr but it was at our back or else had already set. Then it suddenly became clear: for the second timein my life I saw the two crosses overhead, the lesser pointing due south if memory serves right. It felt as if I had never been away.
After what seemed just a moment, the sky was once again swallowed by grey clouds. A faint light in the east signalled the arrival of a new dawn.
I was bone-tired from a night spent stopping and starting in a seat that did not recline on the village night éxpress’.
Tawau turned out to be more than the 3 shacks and seedy hostel I had expected from looking at the map, the road was sealed all the way and the town sprawled across the coastal plain for miles. It was at least the size of Stirling, Scotland’s newest city. We arrived in the dark, with the light of dawn not yet penetrating between the buildings, and the touts pounced on me at once.
I shouldn’t have shouted at them. Touts in Malaysia are friendly and helpful—most of the time—but it was early, in an unknown city, heading to an unknown destination. Across the road, I spotted the lights of an all-night café and sought refuge.
Lucky stars were shining on me. As the light increased, I saw a grey band just past the bus station—the sea. And just as I stepped out into the road, I saw an express boat coming in, indicating the direction to the harbour. A group of nice old men pointed out the way down a side road at the end of which was a bustling market. Thinking myself lost, I was about to turn around when I spotted the sign for the ÍndoMalay’express. A couple of young touts handled things from there and I had my passport stamped and paid for my economy ticket (first class wasn’t pressed on me) before I had time to gather my thoughts. The boat was due to sail—straight to Tarakan—at 10:30 on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It was a Wednesday.
No excursion on the Kinabatangan River then, or visit to a longhouse, but I might get to spend Christmas in Sulawesi. Besides, there was no telling what might await me in Kalimantan.
The passage to Tarakan took over 4 hours. Coming into the bay, I saw dolphins leap in the distance. There were only a few shapes, far away, but I took that as a good omen.
Today I have been on the road for exactly one month.
Tags: SE Asia, Tag Index
Denni