Back to Borneo

I’ve flown into Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, right at the south-western tip of the state, from Singapore. My main goal, this trip, is Pitcairn Island, in the Pacific, but it's a very long way and I wanted to do some exploring en route. This is my third visit to Borneo, the third largest island in the world. (That means it’s huge.) Most of it is owned by Indonesia and known as Kalimantan. There’s a ragged, roughly diagonal, border and the north west corner is occupied by Sarawak and Sabah states in Malaysia and the microstate of Brunei. I’ve already been to Sabah and Brunei. The time has come to take in some of the remainder.

Kuching, Sarawak - in a Nutshell

• The earliest known human settlement in Sarawak at the Niah Caves dates back 40,000 years. A series of Chinese ceramics dated from the 8th to 13th century AD was uncovered at the archaeological site of Santubong. The coastal regions of Sarawak came under the influence of the Bruneian Empire in the sixteenth century.
• Kuching was actually the third capital of Sarawak, part of the Brunei Empire until 1827. But the Sultan of Brunei handed Sarawak over to British explorer, James Brooke, after he assisted him in crushing a rebellion. According to the Malaysians he regretted this decision bitterly, as more and more of Brunei defected to Brookes, in return for protection and development. Eventually, Sarawak became considerably larger than Brunei.
• In 1841, Kuching became the capital of Sarawak and James Brooke became the first White Rajah. His nephew, Charles Brookes, became the second White Rajah, effectively developing the city’s infrastructure, with a welcome sanitation system, hospital, prison, fort, and bazaar. After World War II and the Japanese occupation, the last Rajah of Sarawak, Charles Brooke’s son, Sir Charles Vyner Brooke, decided to hand over Sarawak to the British Crown, in 1946. The action wasn’t well received by many of the locals.
• However, Kuching remained the capital during the British Crown period and, following on from that, capital of the state, when Sarawak was integrated into the Federation of Malaysia, in 1963.
• The state government system is closely modelled on the Westminster parliamentary system and the head of state is the governor. Under the Malaysian constitution, Sarawak has greater autonomy than the states in Peninsular Malaysia.
• Malay is the official language of the state and there is no official religion. Sarawak is the only state of Malaysia with a Christian majority. It has plenty of Tao temples, too.

Colourful Kuching, the Capital of Sarawak

Kuching is an unexpectedly delightful city. It’s nestling on my favourites list. For the moment. It spreads south from the Sarawak River. Here, and in this area, are the old colonial buildings, like the courthouse, two forts (a small fort house, the Square Tower and Fort Margherita, built to deter pirates), the Astana Palace, (a wedding gift for the second rajah’s wife and now the governor’s residence), the Floating Mosque and the cultural museum are found. Though these have been superseded and, the Malaysians would say, surpassed, by modernity. A huge new Borneo Cultures Museum, the second largest in South Asia, a fantastically intricate and illuminated State Legislative House and several bridges. A twisty S for Sarawak footbridge is only really any use for sightseeing, but it’s a good view.

I’m also taking in the riverside attractions from one of the evening cruise boats. We glide past the stilt villages and fishing boats, incongruously the foreground for towering hotels. The Hilton is a snowy white monolith. Just in case that’s not enough entertainment, there’s Sarawak tribal dancing on board. And squash and cakes are paraded from the servery.

Every evening, there’s a fountain laser show beneath the bridge and legislative building. It’s decorative, if not quite the Bellagio. And I can see it from my bedroom window. Well, partially. There’s an old warehouse in the way. Strings of bright neon lights also festoon the trees and hang across the road here. It’s Christmas all year round.

The Ranee Hotel Suites

I have mainly good things to say about my hotel too. It’s beautifully appointed (as an estate agent would say), properly boutique, with a luggage and travel theme. Wooden shutters and floors, tin ornaments and old cases, sprinkled artistically and a perfect location, by the river. I just think the breakfasts are a bit stingy. Brown or white bread for toast, a couple of unappetising plates of melon and orange concentrate, when there’s a juice bar on the premises.

Chinatown - a Purr-fect Place

The hotel is in the heart of Chinatown, full of small quirky shops, symmetrical, mini-palace-style Tao temples and little open fronted restaurants. Delicious smells emanate from those. Roast duck, intermingled with perfumes and soaps. Semi-pedestrianised streets, demarcated with the familiar dragon gates and strings of scarlet lanterns.

There’s a kilometre long riverside promenade, with views of all the bridges and forts, compact cafes and benches dotted around. But the section of the riverfront road, where I am based, is actually called The Bazaar. The stalls here cater mostly for tourists, with racks of clothes, cakes and crafts. They extend warren-like, deep inside and spill over onto the pavement, in turn separated by arcades. At times, the pavement disappears entirely. It’s a clever way to create a souk.

Chinatown is a great wander, right through to City Hall. Another flower shaped extravaganza, but older and dirtier than the legislative hall. ‘Welcome Cat’ statues abound. (Well, Kuching is Malay for cat. Perhaps that's why it's such a purr-fect place?) Some of them have uniforms, which change with the season, or the festival. There are four, waving goodbye, at one end of Chinatown. Though guide Antoni tells me there are several Chinatowns. Google begs to differ.

There’s also an Indian pedestrian shopping street, just beyond Chinatown and the old courthouse. The scent of spices fills the air here. Nearby are the gold domes of the old city mosque. It’s been replaced too, with a ten times the former capacity version.

Eating in Kuching

I’ve eaten lunch with guide Antoni, in a couple of street diners. The fare is generally the same. Fried rice or noodles with odd vegetables like bitter gourd (it really is bitter) and chunks of cold meat pork, or battered chicken.

I’m struggling to get used to the combination, so I’ve tried an upmarket restaurant, called Bla bla bla, for dinner. The food is delicious. Especially the prawns smothered in cashew sauce. But I’ve wildly over ordered. I hope they’ll give me a doggy bag. Though I’m not sure how they’ll manage with shredded duck, in sauce, balanced on slices of mango on spoons. It was enough of a challenge trying to work out how to eat it. Definitely too large for a mouthful, but defying all attempts to cut it in half, with a spoon or chopsticks. The prawns are also difficult. Shell on, so I too end up smothered. Fortunately, there’s a basket of napkins on the shelf above me. The lychee vodka is sublime.

Annah Rais, Sarawak

An hour and a half’s drive north, with Antoni, takes me to the traditional longhouse complex, which is Annah Rais. It’s actually three longhouses, dating back to 1818, though it’s difficult to discern the shape of them, as the buildings run into each other. A window into authentic indigenous life. Bamboo flooring leads us through the shops, homestays, cafes and private homes. In places, it’s been replaced by metal, as has most of the palm thatch.

It’s quiet today. It’s still early and the locals are all preparing for their Bring the Rice in Harvest Festival, this weekend. and, indeed, rice is being raked to dry. They usually party for one week before, and one week after, the day itself.

A separate room, in one longhouse, showcases the head-hunters’ trophies. Skulls in a cage. These were Bedayuh warriors. (A subgroup of the Dayak.) Antoni is proud to belong to this tribe. He confides that he would not be happy to visit an Iban home. (Another Dayak subgroup.) He fancies himself as a lady’s man, gap-toothed smile and pot-belly notwithstanding and talks constantly about his girlfriends past and present, all round the world. Cats abound here too. But these are real ones, all looking content and in good condition. There can’t be many mice left.

Bako National Park, Sarawak

Driving in Sarawak is an experience. There are good roads and traffic lights. But these are superfluous. If there’s nothing turning in, the traffic keeps flowing, even though the lights are red. We're on our way to the must-do expedition here, according to all the tour companies, the national park, at Bako. The area is famous for the endemic Borneo proboscis monkey, bearded pigs, other mammals, tropical birds and miniature green vipers. But, it’s not a great day for this type of endeavour. It’s raining heavily. And the boat trip from the terminal, round the peninsula, to the park, is not at all scenic or remotely pleasant. We’re buffeted by wind and rain the whole way, as the boat bangs hard, over the waves.

My other concerns, that the wildlife might not be too keen on venturing out in this weather, appear to be justified. The green vipers are all in hiding. There are trails, slippy and treacherous, but it seems that the animals, when they do appear, generally hang around the park headquarters and accommodation blocks. They’ve learned where the food is.

And the bearded pigs do saunter round here, snuffling. Mischievous macaques leap nimbly onto the roofs, faces peering over the eaves, as they watch for any opportunity to seize edibles, or rifle through belongings, or rubbish bins. You leave doors open at your peril. The guides wander around, trails of weary tourists in their wake, communicating on their walkie talkies, in the hope of spotting a target. A colugo with its pop-eyed baby causes some excitement. This so-called flying lemur does not fly and it’s not a lemur. It glides, using the skin flaps between its limbs. But it’s not commonly seen and the baby, peeping out of the pouch, formed by the loose folds of this membranes, is very cute.

After that excitement, we are diverted twice, to see juvenile male proboscis monkeys, who have disappeared, by the time we arrive. Finally, a solitary proboscis monkey makes an appearance, shimmies up a tree, to escape from all the excitement he’s caused and slings his legs above his head, creating a hammock for his head. Then, he slumbers. He definitely has a very big nose. (read more about proboscis monkeys here, under Kalimantan, Indonesia.)

Antoni's Antics

Sadly Antoni declines to speak to me all the way back to the city. He has nagged and nagged me about protecting my camera, even though I had followed his instructions assiduously and, in the end, I asked him to stop lecturing me. That was the end of the conversation.

He’s still not speaking to me when he arrives to take me to the airport next morning. It’s ‘Good morning’, and then more sulky silence. Well at least I don’t have to tip him.

Onwards, to Indonesia

Though the saving is wiped out at the check-in counter. Air Asia’s scales miraculously put me almost three kilograms over the 20 kilograms limit. Despite the fact the same bag and contents weighed 19 kilograms, at Heathrow. Two heavies with berets on stand by the gate entrance amidst the usual queues and bedlam. They seize on me of course. I’m the only blonde within miles. But my weak French gets me through the interrogation. For some reason.

Once on the plane, I’ve settled into my front row extra leg room seat. That’s a matter of debate. There’s a very large lady sitting next to me. I definitely can’t get out without clambering over her. I’m on my way to southern Borneo now, and Kalimantan. But there’s no direct route. Jakarta, here I come.

(Or read more about Malaysia here.)