Laura: Hey, you want to go to Borneo this weekend?
Me: [shrugs] Sure. Why not?
And with that, we were off to Kuching for a long weekend, along with Laura's cousin Kyle, her friend Mindy (who when asked to describe herself draws comparisons to Fran Drescher in voice but not the hair), as well as Mindy's husband Jon.
Known as the "City of Cats," the presence of the domestic feline in Sarawak's capital city was relegated primarily to a large statue in the center of town, as the number of actual living cats in the city seemed to be fewer than what I could count on one hand. That didn't stop one vicious kitten, some four inches long and suffering from a nasty case of ringworm, from trying to play with our feet and chasing Laura, Mindy and I several blocks through the city before we eventually lost it.
Of course, Kuching being apart of Malaysian Borneo had made me a little apprehensive in the weeks leading up to our trip. Travelling to Malaysia during Hari Raya Aidilfitri was a mistake we'd make once before, and it wasn't until a few weeks before we were to leave that I realized that we would be in Malaysia during the same time we'd been the year prior. Faithful readers of this column may recall that this particular journey resulted in us being forced to live off of expired packaged food products and semi-rotten fruit for a number of days whilst deep in the jungles of one of the world's oldest rainforests. Not only that, but I also had to face a scorpion in a duel to the death in the bathroom of our guesthouse, which luckily turned out in my favor (actually, it was a draw - the scorpion was released shortly after it had been apprehended). The lack of availability of food at this time of year is due entirely to the fact that Malays take their holidays seriously and shut everything down to spend time with their families and gorge themselves silly to celebrate the end of Ramadan (you would too if you'd spent a month starving yourself!). Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the prospect of having to spend an entire long weekend rummaging for food in bins behind KFC or knocking on doors to beg for handouts. Luckily, this was not to be our fate.
In fact, unlike the previous year, we ate more food during the three days we stayed in Kuching than we had in the entire week in Malaysia the year before. Buffet breakfasts, large salads and delicious Sarawak laksa - we were well provided for and were never in want. For as we were to discover, the culture in Kuching was considerably more laid back than the rest of Malaysia it seemed, and the healthy dose of Chinese residents not celebrating the Muslim holiday certainly aided us in our gastric endeavors.
We spent our first day trekking around Bako National Park, a large tract of rainforest situated along a peninsula an hour or so from Kuching. The park could only be accessed by boat, which required us to hire a boat and driver who would return for us in the late afternoon to bring us back to the park entrance. Bako provided us with our first exposure to the wildlife in Borneo that, despite the mass deforestation that is rampant in the region, has somehow continued to cling onto what's left. As we traversed through dense jungle that looked the way you'd always think jungle should look like, we encountered a variety of lizards, a viper, a domesticated boar (!?), and even a family of elusive probiscus monkeys.
Of course, a trip anywhere with me wouldn't be worth it if there wasn't some harrowing event that would help to put life into perspective. As we climbed into the boat to return to the park entrance, we noticed that the driver, who might be described as one who would typically pour gasoline into the tank of an outboard motor (while it's running) whilst smoking a cigarette and relieving himself off the side of the boat, was wearing a life-jacket, which in a country like Malaysia is never a good sign. As our boat pulled away from the jetty, we quickly realized why our driver had adopted a new approach to boat safety. The sky on the horizon had turned completely black, and the booming sound of thunder could be heard in the far distance. Ill-prepared as we were in our small, uncovered fishing boat, we were faced with no alternative but to face the storm head on. We strapped on our own life-jackets, which offered about as much security as a small twig should we find ourselves thrown overboard, and braced ourselves for what was to come next.
When meteorologists talk about warm fronts and cold fronts and El Ninos and Ninas, I always figured that they were just coming up with a vernacular of their own that at least made it seem to the average person that they knew what they were talking about, when in fact they had no real idea at all. As if weather reports in Vancouver could be predicted with any degree of accuracy. Come on. Give it up.
But there really is such a thing as a cold front, and we experienced it first hand. As our boat cut across the waves as it sped forward into the breach, the temperature of the air dropped drastically, causing the sweat that had covered our skin mere seconds before to freeze and form a thin layer of ice over our bodies. And then came the rain. A deluge really. Each drop slammed against our faces like thousands of tiny pebbles, forcing us to keep our heads down and making it impossible to keep our eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. It was enough to see that the person beside you was at least getting as drenched as you were and was at least exhibiting the same sense of discomfort and anxiety which manifested themselves in bouts of uncontrollable, nervous laughter.
Needless to say, we made it safely to shore, however, much time was spent ringing out our shirts in the the false hope that it could make them dry enough to make the ride home all the more bearable.
Sarawak Cultural Village
Of course, a visit to Borneo would not be complete without an orangutan sighting. We were extremely fortunate to have seen so many of the animals at the nearby Semenggoh Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre, where the orangutans roam free and wild in the jungle but can usually be spotted in one or two areas designated as fresh fruit depots for tree-swinging primates. The way these animals move through the trees with such ease and grace is an incredible experience that can only be appreciated in person. It's a struggle as it is carrying four bags of groceries up three flights of stairs and using my own two feet to do so - imagine climbing up a tree with a bushel of bananas in one hand, peeling one in the other, and cupping a watermelon in your foot as you ascend to the highest, most precarious branch you can possibly find on a tree that rises fifty metres from the ground. That's a skill that demands respect.
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