My blink-and-it’s-over visit was a mere week, in the capital of Sarawak, Kuching. There’s a reason we don’t make a habit of the tourist cadence. It’s a drag. That week felt rushed, like I had to make every moment count. That frenetic pace is not generally how we roll, and it absolutely makes me want to come back, with Dorothy, and do it properly. Slowly. Thoughtfully.

But my commitment to squeeze out what I could made for a full week with much to report. I’ve already covered an overview of Sarawak and trips to view wildlife. Now comes the payoff: crafts. So many, many crafts.

Jalan Main Bazaar

Most people’s first exposure to Sarawak’s crafts will probably be the shops that line Jalan Main Bazaar. For about half a kilometer, souvenir shops stand cheek by jowl along this stretch, which sits right across from and parallels the Kuching River. Most of them are in the tote bag and refrigerator magnet class, although many carry manufactured versions of the traditional Sarawak basketry and printed versions of local batik patterns. There are also a handful of antique shops that seem to carry genuine goods, although at very high prices.

Jalan Main Bazaar had one other treat: actual treats. Specifically shops that specialized in Kek Lapis Sarawak, which translates just as you’d think, as Layer Cake. These are elaborately structured cakes made of layers of alternating flavor and color. Delicious and eye-bleeding. I enjoyed a chocolate/mint confection.

Steamship Building

The historic Steamship Building is on the Sarawak River side of Jalan Main Bazaar, opposite the souvenir shops. It’s a small building that holds maybe ten vendors, but they have been carefully selected for quality, and it shows. Everything on offer is hand crafted and exquisite. Most of it is priced accordingly.

Ranee Artisans

Now I’m digging into the butik and specialty shops where the real thing is to be found. Ranee Artisans has its own shop, but it also supplies many of the products in the Borneo Cultures Museum gift shop.

Songket & Keringkam Gallery

We had read about the keringkam, the dense metallic embroidery, and specifically about an embroiderer named Danny Zulkifli. I was able to track him down and reached out to ask what gallery represented his work. He was very gracious, and invited me to a workshop he was giving at the Songket & Keringkam Gallery. He offered me a tour of his studio after the workshop.

Once I figured out that the workshop was an all-day affair, I begged off, explaining that it would be wasted on me, as I could barely tie my shoes (I’m spending a lot of time in slides these days). Also, now that I’d done a little more work and understood how expensive the keringkam was, I didn’t want to waste his time in the studio, as I was pretty sure that unless he was selling scraps I wouldn’t be able to afford anything.

He maintained the offer and said he would love to meet me, but our schedules never matched, a victim of my short, overstuffed visit to Sarawak. But I did make it to the gallery, which was small but had excellent representation of both the keringkam and songket.

Some of their ridiculously baroque songket.

The keringkam selection was, no surprise, the best I saw. The work is so expensive, no one really carries a lot of it. Some of these closeups really communicate the scale of the work, both the overall effort and how very fine the work is. This is backbreakingly delicate work done at industrial scale. It’s very, very hard to wrap your head around.

Tanoti House

I’ve saved Tanoti House, the best of the craft shops, for last. They were out of the main shopping district, but only about a 25 minute walk from my condo. Which doesn’t sound like much except for the equatorial heat. Let’s just say that I was less than fresh when I arrived, and took a Grab back home.

The arrival part itself was pretty funny. As I was walking up the path to the building, a woman drove her car past me and parked. As I came up behind her she turned and asked if she could help me. “Is this Tanoti House?” “Yes.” We were standing in front of a large outbuilding full of looms. “Do you have a shop.” “Yes.” “Great. I’d love to see your work.” “Oh. OK, sure.” Like a customer walking up was so weird she couldn’t quite grasp why I was there.

But she warmed up quickly and led me around the corner to her shop. Which was staffed with a full-time sales associate (the delightful Jenny), so her confusion about a customer walking up seemed odd. Maybe they were one of those places that tours stopped at and walk-up customers weren’t a thing. They were a little off the beaten track. Dunno. However odd it started, it was a delightful experience once underway.

Not only did they have the excellent work produced in their own workshop, they also represented tribal groups from across Sarawak. I had struck a rich vein at Tanoti House. Everything was super high quality. However, this was another experience that required Dorothy’s direct involvement. I took some pictures and sent them to her, and we scheduled a return visit, when they were expecting me, so that I could bring her in on a video call and we could shop together. Important decisions needed to be made, so the Executive Committee was convened.

They had the best basketry I’d seen and beautiful songket.

But the standout pieces were the Pua Kumbu weavings.

One piece stood out from its brethren.

This is an Iban piece, and is, mostly, the Pua Kumbu Sungkit (songket) technique, which is actually two distinct techniques combined. Pua means blanket, and Kumbu is a warp ikat technique, where the vertical threads have been tie-dyed, rather than the more common weft ikat. In addition, songket is used, which is a discontinuous supplementary weft technique, meaning that additional weft threads are pulled through the warp and tied off to make discrete patterns that don’t continue horizontally across the width of the fabric.

What makes this particular piece an outrageous example of stunt weaving is that its three sections all deploy both different motifs and different techniques, all of which were executed on the same loom. One end holds the primary motif, the terabai, or shield. We were told that when displayed, the terabai is always at the top, never the bottom. This section is Pua Kumbu Sungkit.

The middle section is a motif called silup langit sereta. Langit means sky or heaven, and the overall motif represents the connection of the earthly and the divine. The technique used is sidan, which is a continuous supplementary weft technique, meaning that the pattern extends side-to-side.

The final panel is the kelekeit motif, a sacred pattern with strong protection powers. This is again executed in the Pua Kumbu Sungkit technique.

So this piece incorporates three distinct patterns, is built on a warp ikat base, and uses a discontinuous supplementary weft technique at each end and a continuous supplementary weft technique in the middle.

Sweet bleeding Jesus!

In case you’re still not convinced, here are closeups of the front and back sides. The amount of labor is almost unfathomable. Just thinking about it makes me want a nap. Although, to be fair, very little doesn’t make me want a nap.

This piece was also… expensive. They had so much beautiful stuff we were sort of looking at a shopping cart. Some of the baskets and purses, a floor covering, a little of this and a little of that. Instead, we put all our chips into the Pua Kumbu. This is a signature piece, always our goal, and will find its new home, I think, well suited. Sadly, it required that we leave all the other beauty behind.

Well… almost all. We still needed an example of the basket weaving, and their selection was outstanding. This piece is from the Penan tribe, and uses a fern motif called paku pakis. The rings that hold it together at the top are called ulat, the Malay word for caterpillar.

I left lighter in the wallet but richer in every other way. I love shopping with Dorothy.

What could possibly be left after that? A pair of museums, a cultural center, and a field trip to a songket weaver. But don’t worry, there are excellent gift shops still on the itinerary. That Pua Kumbu may have eaten up most of our budget, but there was still room for a few more treats.

Borneo Cultures Museum

Everyone in Kuching said the same thing: “Have you been to the Cultures Museum yet?” I like to think of myself as pretty resistant to peer pressure, but resisting seemed not so much futile as foolish. Why would I skip a Borneo cultural museum? Good lord. I only play an idiot on TV.

The first thing I liked about the museum was its name. Not the Borneo Cultural Museum, but the Borneo Cultures Museum. There are many cultures here, and we’re going to do our best to represent them all. Nice.

The next thing is the building itself, a five-story structure that riffs off traditional basket weaving and Pua Kumbu motifs. Not for nothing, it’s also the second-largest museum in all of SEA.

The oddest thing about the museum is that every time I entered or exited a gallery my hearing aids went all staticky. Dr. Google says it’s most likely some form of electromagnetic interference caused by the museum’s security systems, but they must be doing something no one else is doing. I’ve never had that happen before.

Also, and this is just me being weird, none of the escalators moved until you stepped on them. That’s not the first time I’ve run across that, but it still surprises me how disorienting it is. Are you broken? Is there a toll? Are you Up or Down? So many questions.

OK, enough. Focus. Museum.

Because there’s lots of museum to take in. This is just going to be the highest of highlights, but the bottom line is simple: You should go to Borneo, visit Sarawak on the Malaysian side, and go to the Borneo Cultures Museum in Kuching yourself. Until you can pull your shit together and execute on that perfectly reasonable plan, this will have to suffice. But it will be very sad for you if this is all of Borneo you ever see. Just sayin’.

Often in a museum I’ll think, “Oh, I’d love a reproduction of that.” But outside the Borneo Cultures Museum these pieces are being produced, not reproduced. They are the artifacts of cultures that are still current, active, and engaged. Their craftwork may be in a museum, but none of them are museum cultures. They’re out there right now, living the lives represented in the exhibits. Museums tend to be monuments to the past, not representatives of the present. That’s pretty unusual, and it’s more than a little exhilarating to know that I could see any of the cultures represented there in situ if I so chose.

So let’s dine out on the feast the Borneo Cultures Museum serves up. First up, basketry and reed weaving, a Borneo specialty.

There are textiles, to no one’s surprise. Mostly Pua Kumbu, with a few exceptions.

Some truly excellent beadwork examples.

More? Of course. How about some clothing and hats? Well, since you asked so nicely…

OK, one more. You’ve been good. Here’s some primo carvings and masks for you.

The museum opened in 2022, so it’s modern to the gills, full of interactive displays. This room held a series of decorated glass windows and a sliding wooden frame.

When you slid the frame over one of the windows, it came to life. Sorcery! Witchcraft!

This next display was an interactive book that took up an entire wall. You controlled it with hand gestures.

But this may have been my favorite interactive display: Smell-O-Vision. There was a whole bank of these, each with a different aromatic substance. Push the button and huff and you get to smell, in this case, camphor.

Is there anything better than a good museum gift shop? If there is, I’m certainly not telling you. I’ll snort it all myself.

Kampung Budaya Sarawak

The Sarawak Cultural Village calls itself a living museum, and that sounds about right. Visiting SCV is meant to be an immersive experience. The 17-acre grounds are dotted with reproductions of traditional houses associated with different tribes. The houses are all accessible, and there are docents to explain how people used those spaces and lived in them.

There are craftspeople scattered about the different houses, highlighting some sort of traditional activity or craft, such as games, baking, weaving, beadwork, and blowpipery. Many of these activities can be joined by visitors in a low-key version of tourist places that let you Make Your Own Batik! There are also performances, some taking place in the houses, some staged in their indoor theater. It’s meant to be a soup-to-nuts cultural experience and it pretty much delivers on that goal.

We actually visited someplace similar in Hà Nội, the Vietnam Museum of Ethnology, which is likewise made up of houses representing Vietnam’s different ethnic groups. I think the biggest difference is that most of the houses in the Museum of Ethnology were real houses that had been broken down and reconstructed on site, whereas the SCV is all reproductions.

This grand edifice is a Melayu home. It was built in 1989 from native ironwood, just as the original was in 1860.

This is a Melanau Tall House.

This is the Iban house, with crafts you’ll recognize from the Borneo Cultures Museum.

Another tall house, from the Orang Ulu.

And finally, a few lightly identified houses.

Here’s one of the Tourist Enrichment Stations, where an expert tries to teach a poor schlub how to throw a top. Opportunities to humiliate myself always seem to crop up without my intervention, so I passed. Schadenfreude only works if it’s someone else’s misfortune.

The performances were surprisingly good. The performers were charismatic, the costumes were great, and even the musicians were excellent. It was an unexpectedly professional production, especially since all the performers were pulling shifts in the houses before the afternoon Big Show.

I love this clip, where the pole dancer clearly has to work his nerve up for the trick.

And then this, indigenous crowd work. I’m sure the screaming is traditionally relevant and not just a Tourette’s-like outburst. Plus, more of those delicious thighs. What’s not to love?

But do they have a gift shop? What a silly, silly question. I picked up a few things there for the floor.

SCV was the other place, with the Borneo Cultures Museum, where everyone was all, “Have you been? Have you been? What about now? Have you been?” And I get it. It would have been a grievous error to have visited Kuching, for however short a stay, and missed either of those institutions. Thankfully, most of my lapses in judgement involve doing things I shouldn’t rather than missing things I should.

Tun Jugah Museum

I was texting with the tour operator who got me to Bako National Park and mentioned that I was interested in Pua Kumbu. She pointed me to the Tun Jugah Museum, right in town. Tun Jugah was a Malaysian politician who played a central role in the establishment of Malaysia as an independent nation. His foundation, set up to promote Iban crafts and culture, houses a museum and gallery with amazing specimens.

They must not get a lot of visitors, as it’s pretty hard to reach. There’s a sign in the lobby indicating that the museum is on the fourth floor. I naturally take the escalator up to the second floor, where I’m met with an escalator to the third floor that’s decommissioned and gated, with no obvious way to go any higher. Back down to the first floor, where I find the elevators that… don’t go to Four.

Then I see a sign for the museum at the head of a passageway, but the passageway dead ends. I back out and round another corner where I find another elevator bank and signs to the museum… behind an entrance that requires a key card. No signs, no help, but I’m now adjacent to the front desk in the lobby of what looks like an office suite. I ask the nice lady if she has any idea how I get to the museum on Four. She does! I get there when she hands me a visitor’s badge that opens the gate to the elevator bank. Of course. How foolish of me not to have figured that out.

When I exit on the fourth floor, I am honestly unsurprised that the museum staff is surprised to see me. Not me particularly, obviously, but anyone. I can’t imagine many people make it through the gauntlet required to gain access. It lacked only a troll and a riddle.

But the collection. Holy cow, they had the goods. Sadly, they wouldn’t let me take pictures in the fabric gallery, but I was able to take pictures of the looms and some of the workers, as well as a separate gallery with beaded goods. The ladies who worked there were super knowledgeable and helpful, and seemed truly pleased to answer my questions. And downright spooked when I was able to use the phrase discontinuous supplementary weft properly in a sentence. One of my favorite tricks.

Outside of the fabric gallery I can’t show you, the most interesting thing was the workroom, full of looms with work in various stages of completion. No one was weaving while I was there, as all of the women were tying off thread for ikat dying. But what was up in the looms as WIP was beautiful, even half-finished.

They had some completed pieces up for display, but nothing for sale. If any museum ever screamed for a gift shop, it was surely the Tun Jugah. The sound still echoes.

They also had a section of looms set up tagged with the technique being demonstrated, which was very helpful. I think these were specifically educational display, and not WIP.

The range of techniques on display was impressive. I would have gladly stolen any one of the pieces at random, had they not been still on a loom. And had I been slightly less thoroughly docented. You can just imagine what the display pieces in the Forbidden Gallery looked like, given how stunning the WIP was.

I was baffled by this first piece, but I think it’s because I’m not very smart. I’m used to seeing fabric woven in a length, and I couldn’t figure out why this was being woven from the bottom… up to completed weaving on the top? How is that supposed to end?

I’m sure y’all saw it right away, but I had to ask. The entire piece is being woven in a loop, and when the weaver catches up to the beginning she’ll cut it so it’s a single long piece. It seemed obvious once it was explained, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen that.

The live action while I was there was all in the ikat preparation. Three women were engaged in tying off thread to dye into ikat patterns. They’d move to the looms later. I’m sure they were waiting for me to leave.

Finally, there was the bead room, which featured beautiful pieces made from glass trade beads and carved shell. Most of the beadwork I’d seen in the markets was clearly tourist goods. It was a treat to see the real thing.

Seri Gedong Songket

It’s such a fine line between adventure and misadventure. I suppose the distinction is really just how much stupid you bring to the table. Game on.

I had read about this high-end songket maker, about 90 minutes south of Kuching, and made it the central focus of one of my day trips. When we got there, I found a small workroom with maybe four looms, three of which were in operation during my visit. I asked about their shop, where I could see and purchase finished goods, and they explained that it was in Kuching. After describing the location, I said, “Wait, are you the songket stall in the Steamship Building?” “Yes! That’s our shop.” The songket photo in the Steamship Building section above is theirs.

I had come all that way for no reason except to see the weaving. And don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the process. But I’d seen songket weaving in person in Bali and I’d seen Seri Gedong Songket’s finished work already in Kuching. I don’t think I’d have made that trek knowing those things. [counting the ballots…] Misadventure!

However. Lemonade shall be made from these lemons. The work was unquestionably denser than the Balinese songket, so it was pretty cool seeing it made.

Nothing like mixing up a little misadventure with the actual adventures. Keeps me young.

Dorothy and I had planned for our next leg, leaving Chicago before winter, to be 100% India. Current thinking, based on all of the above, is Kerala, Borneo, and Sri Lanka. More planning and thinking to do, but I’ll happily sign off on that itinerary. Especially the full-on Borneo tour. There’s so much more than a week’s worth of wow left in Borneo.

Semenggoh Wildlife Centre

The first of my two day trips took in a songket weaver, a local market, and monkeys. Not just any monkeys, though. We’re talking orangutans, which can only be found in Borneo and neighboring Sumatra. That Primate Bingo card is starting to fill up.

Semenggoh hosts about 28 orangutans (from the Malay orang hutan, person of the forest), ranging in age from 55 to in utero. Four of them have been rescued, the rest born on premises. Which is not the same as “in captivity.” The reserve comprises a robust 1600 acres of free range territory, more than enough for the solitary creatures to feel at home (mothers and children are the only orangutans that travel together). They could leave if they wanted, but the supplemental food that the rangers provide anchors them to the area. It’s especially important in between fruit seasons, when food can be sparse.

I happened to visit during fruit season, meaning that the orangutans were less likely to venture to the feeding stations, which are set up for safe observation. There was a possibility that none of them would venture out at feeding time, as the jungle naturally produced a bounty of jackfruit, durian, rambutan, and mangosteen. As you’ve all come to learn, though, I’m sprinkled with fairy dust, so of course I saw orangutans.

Before our first showed up, the result of rangers tramping the forest and ululating in the traditional orangutan Dinner’s Served call, our ranger gave us the lowdown on Dos & Don’ts to keep from provoking one of the orangutans into a deadly rage. Happy to listen. Along with hide your water bottles and put your selfie stick away, it included this pertinent gem: “If I say move, move. If I say move fast, move fast. If I say run for your life, get out of my way.” He assured us that he was JK and would stand as the last line of defense in the event of monkey fuckery. Good to know, but a little concerned that a last line of defense had been mapped out in advance.

I asked our ranger what else lived in the jungle, and he rattled off quite the list: gibbons, western tarsiers, macaques, slow loris, flying squirrels, wild boars, bearcats, pythons, cobras, and pit vipers. On the one hand, glad they closed the jungle trails. On the other hand, Wikipedia says that bearcats smell like buttered popcorn. In possibly the first instance of this sentence ever being written, I’m sorry I didn’t get to smell a bearcat.

Also, when he got to macaques, I said “Oh my god, macaques are the worst.” Even nature ranger agreed that they are the rats of the primate tree. It’s most certainly not just me. Everyone hates macaques.

Also, this was the sonic background.

Everyone hates cicadas, too. That’s what travel teaches you: all over the world, we are more alike than different. Kumbaya.

Our first visitor was Ruby, 13 years old and pregnant. Perhaps that’s why she was interested in bonus snacks. Sadly, photos and videos of the orangutans are sparse, but there’s a little. Here’s Ruby managing bananas in both hand and foot. The agility and dexterity is remarkable.

Here she is in action. I love her passing the bananas between mouth and hands/feet as necessary. It makes me imagine an evolutionary path where we have four hands and no feet. You could Hold my beer yourself.

There was a second sighting away from the feeding area. One of the alpha males, the 20 year old Anaku, was in the trees just off the path a few dozens of meters from the feeding area, so we all took off in that direction. Anaku was, we were told, only the fourth largest alpha in the group, which, once I laid eyes on him, was utterly terrifying. Nothing should be that large and nothing that large should have thumbs. And a hippocampus. And have three other even larger beasts nearby. That thing was fucking enormous.

And also closer than Ruby. Much, much closer. He was maybe ten feet away in open territory. Had he taken a notion to go all carnivore on us no one could have stopped him. He’d have been on us before we could even be shooed away. Thankfully, he was eating bananas and we were silent. Enough.

However close he was, he was also behind the first line of trees on the path, so the sight line wasn’t ideal. There were a number of us clustered trying to get good photos, but Anaku himself was the best reason not to try to angle for a better shot. I really felt like holding still was the best idea. The photos suffer. I only got one vaguely acceptable shot.

But I got better video. I love him catching the bananas while hanging from the tree.

Also, a note on their names. There was a population list up with all of the orangutan’s names, ages, and provenances. In addition to Ruby and Anaku there was an Analisa, a Baka, a Selina, a Sigat, even a Roxanne. Down at the bottom of the list was a 7 year old male named Ooooha. That is so weak. That is so, “Billy, what shall we call the monkey?” Honestly, that felt disrespectful.

Bako National Park

Bako is a must-see from Kuching. It’s Sarawak’s oldest national park, and despite being one of the smallest, crams a ridiculous amount of diversity into its modest 10 square miles. it features multiple biomes, from rainforest to riparian, trails of varying length and complexity, and more wildlife than you can shake a stick at. Or that can shake a stick at you. One of the highlights is the proboscis monkey, which, like the orangutans, is native to Borneo. You see them in zoos everywhere, and you’re like, “Oh, that’s a thing.” But it’s not. It’s a Borneo-only treat. With luck, I’ll complete a row on that Primate Bingo card.

Bako is a full day tour, all by itself, and it was quite the adventure. The park isn’t that far from Kuching, maybe half an hour drive to the car park. But even getting there was an accomplishment.

We usually use a service called GetYourGuide for booking tours when there’s something we can’t muster on our own. The whole somebody’s-cousin thing seems fraught. It’s like using a ridehailing app instead of a taxi. The communication is in English, prices are set in advance, the itinerary is specified… It’s just easier.

But GetYourGuide didn’t seem to work in Sarawak. First, the prices were heinous, like $150 for a day tour. But then when I tried to book, the price doubled to $300. I finally figured out that they were all private tours, and you had to cover the full cost if there was just the one of you. Unlike other places, where the tour is scheduled, they’re selling up to ten seats, and they take off with whoever shows up. I’ve had tours like that effectively be private tours when I was the only one who booked.

At one point I passed a hotel with a tour sign outside, so I went in to see if there were more reasonable arrangements. I still had to book a private tour, but at much less than $300. So that was the first hurdle cleared. I booked it for my last full day in Kuching.

The second hurdle was that it started to rain on the drive to the park. Transit from the car park to the park entrance was by boat, and there was no guarantee that a boat would take us, and no guarantee, if we got to the park entrance, that they’d actually let us out on the trails.

We arrived at the dock and my guide, Salihin, was able to procure a boat. But it was still raining, so I had to decide whether to take the chance or not. If I bailed before the boat much of my fee would be refundable. But if we take the boat I’m committed, whether we’re actually permitted to hike the trails or not. Not a difficult decision, having worked so hard just to get as far as the dock. All aboard.

To say that the boat ride was wet is an understatement. The skiff had a canopy, but it was also slicing horizontally through a rainstorm, rendering the canopy useless. I arrived to the park pretty thoroughly soaked.

A short walk brought us to the ranger’s lodge, where we’d learn whether we’d be permitted on the trails or not. Certainly not while it was raining, as the footing, as I learned, is questionable under the driest of circumstances. We’d just have to hang out there until given the all clear. Or give up at some point and boat back.

Just on that short walk we came across this on the path: a Bornean Keeled Pit Viper. Just one of Bako’s many species of deadly snakes. Not deadly to humans, however, as it only produces enough venom to take down little critters, not something our size. We get what’s referred to as a “dry bite.” Which is better, I guess? But which still seems undesirable.

Salihin shares all of this intel after I come in close for a photo. Makes me wonder if, as a small human, I’m critter-sized.

We wound up waiting about an hour before being permitted to head out. I got an order of lovely fresh pancakes with local honey from their café, so I was able to fill the time just fine. Here’s a better example of what we were up against.

Thankfully, there was entertainment available while we waited. Besides the pancakes. A family of bearded pigs was wandering the grounds, snuffling for treats.

But you came for the action shots, and I would never disappoint you. Here’s the family.

And here’s one of the adults, up close. Jesus their noses are weird. Swear to god, when I first saw one I thought he was carrying some pink plastic thing in his mouth. Life’s rich fucking pageant.

Free to roam the wilds, Salihin and I set out on one of the trails. There are some very long trails and some very challenging trails. Wisely, Salihin chooses Bako’s bunny slope for me. Which turned out to be more than enough, thank you.

It’s very hard to overstate the jungle’s lush beauty.

The spiky palms were scarcely the only hazard. There was the path itself. The paths are all what I now know are called desire paths. Meaning that they were created through use rather than planning. As people have clambered over these paths, the dirt has worn down exposing the tree roots. So the paths themselves are now an obstacle course of gnarled tree roots and irregular stone.

Completely understandable why hiking isn’t permitted in the rain. Not sure just how much safer the paths are right after rain has stopped. Those were still very wet trails. Like a geriatric mountain goat, I was somehow able to keep my feet throughout the 2.5km hike.

There were places along the trail that were considered problematic enough that railings, bridges, and stairs had been built. Having traversed the parts they considered passable without assistance, it truly made me wonder what was under those structures. It had to be pretty heinous.

Besides, the assists themselves were problematic. Stairs had been built with 2″ deep, unevenly spaced steps, structures were coming loose and dangling… The design prompt appears to have been “make it just like the rest of the paths,” as opposed to “make it better than the paths.” Fair.

While I was there for the monkeys, there was plenty of smaller wildlife to enjoy.

As we neared the end of the trail, Salihin gave me a choice: we could walk back, retracing our steps, or we could continue on to the beach, where he could arrange for our boat to pick us up and look for proboscis monkeys in the mangroves lining the shore. It would, however, cost an additional charge of 50 ringgit, about $12, as we’d only engaged our boatman to take us to and from the main dock. That wasn’t a difficult decision. Monkeys!

While we waited, I was able to take in the beach. I may have been soaked through, but I hadn’t actually dressed for swimming. That was ok. Between this and the jellyfish, I wasn’t really tempted. Not, I believe, that it was permitted. Salihin certainly wouldn’t have let me.

I asked Salihin whether the crocodiles were freshwater or saltwater, trying to calibrate the risk of running across one, and he cheerfully offered that Bako had both.

The beach had a kind of desolate splendor, beautiful but bleak. There were rock formations to clamber over and water to avoid while we waited for our ride.

As we slid down the coast, I was just able to get my camera up in time to catch a white crocodile entering the water from the beach.

What I had thought was another crocodile in a stand of mangroves was, I was assured, just a big ass monitor lizard. On close inspection, that’s definitely a lizard tail, not a croc tail, but it was so big it was an easy mistake to make.

But we’re all here for the same thing: proboscis monkeys. I have to preface the video by noting that this is more like a safari than a zoo. We’re visiting animals in their native habitats, so any sighting is a special thing. What I’m getting at is, no cute closeups.

Here’s a pair at ground level with one of them climbing up a tree. Their distinctive white tails make them easy to spot, even in the wild.

Here’s that same monkey hanging out.

And here he is dropping from the trees to the ground. An entire Day In The Life.

And that did it. Bako National Park wrapped up in a nice bow. Although there were a few more sights on the way back to the dock. There were these interesting structures. They’re rigs that hold fishing nets, which are dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon with the day’s catch. They’re made from nibong, a palm used for building materials rather than food. They’re hardy enough to survive in the water for over a decade.

And just what do you think these massive rubbery mats are? I couldn’t tell, either. Salihin had to explain that it was a fisherman’s daily jellyfish catch being offloaded for processing. I noticed that the fisherman wasn’t wearing gloves, and asked if the jellyfish were the non-stinging kind. Salihin assured me that those were stinging jellyfish, but the fishermen spend so much time handling them that they just get used to it. We can add Borneo Jellyfish Hunter to the list of Jobs Mark Doesn’t Want. It’s a very long, very comprehensive list, but that’s a new entry.

To be fair, its sister document, Jobs Mark Wants, is empty.

Given how dire the day started, soaked and uncertain whether I’d even get to the park, this ended damned skippy. Getting to see both orangutans and proboscis monkeys during my stay in Borneo was 100% a highlight.

As Caesar did not quite have the Gaul to say, Borneo est omnis divisa in partes tres. [Come for the incisive analysis, stay for the Latin jokes] The bulk of it is Indonesian, called Kalimantan, with the north of the island, Sarawak and Sabah, belonging to Malaysia. Then there’s the little pimple of Brunei, carved out of the Malaysian piece. I visited Kuching, the capital of Sarawak.

But not, I am sad to report, for long enough. I’d booked a month in Kuala Lumpur, and by the time I figured out that I’d allocated too much time to KL and not enough to Borneo, I was pretty locked in to my logistics. I took a week out of the middle of my KL stay, packed a light bag, and sucked up the Airbnb double dip. Next time, more homework before committing.

Why did I need more time in Borneo? Part of the answer is embedded in the choice to refer to it as Borneo, rather than Sarawak. Like Bali and Java in Indonesia, Borneo has a culture notably distinct from the federations to which it belongs. No one says Welcome to Sarawak. They say Welcome to Borneo. I’m not sure I saw anything that identified the location as Malaysian. Their identity is as Borneans.

Although that’s not a real word. They identify by their particular chunk of Borneo, so the Malaysian Borneans are Sabahnauts or Sarawakjobs, while Indonesian Borneans are known as Kalimantandooris. You have to know this shit or you come off as insensitive. Trust me, no one wants that.

Borneo’s culture is the primary draw here, although the tropical equatorial jungle, chock full of sweet-bleeding-Jesus-what-the-fuck-is-that comes a close second. I don’t feel any particular need to introduce Dorothy to Thailand (not a shot at Thailand, just an acknowledgement that it shares a lot with the parts of SEA we’ve already visited), but I would love to get her to Borneo for a deeper dive than my one week afforded. I left plenty of meat on that bone.

My two favorite places we’ve been so far are Tunisia and Oaxaca, and Borneo is kind of a mashup. What made Tunisia special was the extent to which traditional Berber culture was Tunisian culture. Berbers were hardly dominant ethnically, but they held all the cultural cards. Sadly, the US had an indigenous culture that rich and deep, but something bad must have happened to the Native Americans, as their traditional culture is hanging on by a thread. Maybe ChatGPT knows.

Oaxaca is a little different, in that the dominant Oaxacan culture is actually a mélange to which 16 discrete indigenous tribes have contributed: Zapotec, Mixtec, Mazateco… The depth of that culture is astonishing, specifically because of the varied contributions from each of the individual tribes.

Borneo splits that difference, with the indigenous tribes creating the dominant culture but maintaining completely distinct identities. It’s as if Tunisia had half a dozen completely different Berber tribes, each with its own very specific culture. The indigenous tribes are grouped under the umbrella Dayak, to distinguish them from the Malay, Chinese, and Indian populations. Within that there are the Iban, Bidayuh, Kayan, Kenyah, Murut, and Ngaju. But even that’s an oversimplification, as those six groups collectively comprise over 200 discrete ethnic groups. The stew here is rich, delicious, and unavoidable.

Kuching

Kuala Lumpur is about 200 miles north of the equator, as close as we’ve been, accounting for its ponderous atmosphere. The obvious comfort break was to visit Kuching, because it’s actually closer to the equator, a mere 100 miles, a paltry 1.55° north. Basically, equator. So, whatever the superlative of ponderous is. Life threatening? As we used to say about St. Louis summers, wet but somehow still on fire.

Kuching is Sarawak’s capital, but not on the scale of Kuala Lumpur. About 600,000 people live in Kuching, as opposed to KL’s 2 million. It definitely feels much smaller. The Sarawak River winds through the city, so there’s waterfront everywhere.

Most importantly, the condo I stayed in featured a massive infinity pool, although they called it an Infinite Pool. It was so large I thought it might have been Olympic length, but I think infinite is a little much. Turns out it’s a mere 90 feet, just over half an Olympic pool (I counted the 4″ tiles. Shut up.).

The real Sarawak story is the crafts. Even in KL, whenever I saw something interesting it had come from Sarawak. But before we dive into crafts, let’s take a walk. Kuching has plenty of charm of its own.

And of course, always happy to enjoy local signage.

Markets

There was a hypermarché a short Grab ride from my condo, but the interesting markets were outside Kuching. I took a car and driver for a pair of full day tours while I was there and part of those tours involved stops at two markets: the daily fresh market in Serian, about 40 miles southeast of Kuching, and the Serikin Weekend Market, about 35 miles west of Kuching, right on the border with Indonesia. Those were on separate days, as they’re nowhere near one another.

Serian Daily Market

This was pretty much a photo op stop. I was going to the much larger market in Serikin the next day, and the merch here was pretty much food oriented. It’s hard to stock a kitchen for cooking for only a week (with my cooking skills, at least), so I wasn’t really in the market for a market. Mostly eating out in Kuching, as befits the seven-day tourist cadence.

But this was close enough to one of the nature reserves on my itinerary to warrant the stop for strictly ethnographic purposes.

Serikin Weekend Market

This was the big cheese, and well worth the trip. Serikin is right on the Indonesian border. How close, you ask? The far end of the market ends mere meters from the border.

It’s so close that it’s considered a free zone. Indonesians are allowed to cross the border and sell in the market without showing papers or dealing with customs, so long as they don’t go beyond the town of Serikin proper. I’m sure there are plenty of free border zones around the world, but this was my first experience. It’s an interesting setup.

My driver kept emphasizing that the goods on sale at the market weren’t from Sarawak, they were from Indonesia, muled across the border for sale. Which while technically true is kind of beside the point. That border is a line on a map, not in the real world. Like how the mountains of Chiapas butt up against the Guatemalan highlands. You can draw whatever lines you like, but it’s likely to be same same on both sides.

The market part of Serikin was over a kilometer long, set up right on the main drag. The far end was the produce market, right near the border, and while there were food stalls along the way, the bulk of the market was goods, from decorative objects to housewares. I was the only mat salleh (farang in Thai) there, which I always love. It means I’ve found the real deal, where the locals go.

In fact, other than hiring a car and driver, as I did, or renting a car and driving yourself (madness), there’s no way to get to Serikin from Kuching. There isn’t even a bus. I’ve run across this repeatedly in SEA, where there’s some locus of interesting culture that takes a Stanley-and-Livingstone level of commitment to access. Which most tourists, obviously, can’t muster.

Admittedly, the Serikin market isn’t specifically for tourists, but that didn’t keep me from leaving money there. I’ve visited a couple of places, like the Benjarong Pottery Village outside Bangkok and a weaving village outside Chiang Mai, that should be catnip for tourists interested in real craft traditions. How to get there? Rent a car and driver for the day. They should be bussing tourists in to these places, but they’re deserted.

Serikin was hardly deserted, except of tourists. It’s an exceptionally robust market, with a great array of goods. Here’s the produce end of the market.

And here’s the shank of it.

I have confessed to leaving money in Serikin. What did I buy? Two shirts for me, as shirts appear to be my love language. I have, at most recent count, added twelve shirts to my wardrobe on this trip. This market was also my place to pick up gifts, which is frankly harrowing on my own. I have zero trust in my judgement in Dorothy’s absence. I have no idea whether I’m bringing back treasures or tourist crap.

Roadside Attractions

My first day trip was to a fabric weaver, a wildlife reserve, and the Serian market. Day Two was a cultural center and the Serikin Weekend Market. Between the two days, there were a handful of little sidebars, interesting things along the way.

I suppose it’s churlish to note, but I didn’t much care for my driver for the two days. He never really left the car to serve as a guide, he just narrated whatever we were passing while we were driving. Usually the same things in both directions. And there always seemed to be something worth noting, even when there wasn’t.

But the biggest issue was his English. I have absolutely no call to dunk on anyone over their English, given that the only things I know how to say in Malay are thank you, forbidden, and danger. Although, to be fair, that does cover most circumstances.

Still, he was very hard to understand, which wouldn’t have been a big deal if he’d been using fewer words. He spoke in a mix of English words in a Malay accent, Malay words, and nouns for local places and things. So everything sounded Malay, and deciphering which of those sounds represented an English word gave me a headache. I said “I understand” a lot, even when I didn’t.

These local food courts, where we stopped for lunch, are a thing here. You walk by the stalls and figure out what you want, then sit down and wait for a waiter with an iPad. Everything is numbered. You tell them you want the #7 from stall #12, and they note that you’re sitting at table #5. Then food arrives and they take payment. Efficient, and, with maybe twenty stalls, the range of choices is excellent.

Kuching Buddhist Society

One pullover was at the Kuching Buddhist Society, which, unexpectedly, featured a large statue of Buddha. Did not see that coming.

The Buddha was impressive and the grounds were lovely. A completely worthwhile stop.

Paku Rock Maze Garden

The Paku Rock Maze appears to be a naturally occurring geologic formation that has been colonized and turned into a roadside attraction. It seems to be a popular spot to rent a traditional costume and have your picture taken. There was some kind of photo shoot going on while I was there.

The rest of my day trip adventures are covered in the posts on crafts and wildlife.

* Please note: All song title jokes and references, and they are spread liberally throughout the blog, are specifically for Bruce’s entertainment. If you are not Bruce you have my permission to be amused, just so long as you understand that these jokes are not truly for you.