May 6, 2007

Kuching (BORNEO)

Arriving in Kuching on the Mystical Island of Borneo

Well, that was fast! Visiting Malaysia, I mean. Only two days ago I left Singapore heading north, and at 8:30 this morning I caught a flight from Kuala Lumpur to the western tip of Sarawak, a semi-autonomous state on the island of Borneo. I had to pinch myself a few times as I walked across the airport tarmac to board my flight - who on earth ever imagines they will visit a place like Borneo? Along with Kathmandu and Fiji, Borneo always sounded like the kind of place that exists somewhere in the world, but it's not like any one actually goes there.

My flight was open seating, which was a first for me, so I sat as close to the flight attendants as I could. Asian airlines always employ the prettiest girls they can find.

Unfortunately, I still look too young for flight attendants to take me seriously. Maybe I will appreciate my boyish features when I am 40+, but I doubt it; men in their mid-forties always seem slightly creepy when they hit on young flight attendants. I just can't win.

But hell, I am flying to Borneo.

I usually laugh (inwardly) when I see people doing this, but I couldn't resist the temptation to take pictures as the South China Sea gave way to the jungle-clad beaches of Sarawak.

After clearing immigration, I approached the only other westerner on the plane and we shared a taxi into the city of Kuching. On the drive, Chris explained he is from New York City and is currently working for the US Embassy in Bangkok. He has a great set-up where he rotates to a new country every two years, and he will be going to Japan at the end of this summer.

As for my Japan situation, I have been accepted to study and do research in Tokyo, but the university will not begin the admission process until they can find on-campus housing for me (Tokyo being one of the world's most expensive cities to live in). There isn't much I can do about the situation, so I have been twiddling my thumbs waiting to see how it all plays out.

Chris and I checked out a few hostels in Kuching before deciding we could save money by sharing a room for the night. It was a nice change for me because the 8-12 person dormitories can become tiring, and I haven't had the best luck with accommodation on this trip.

I tossed my pack on the bed and immediately set off across town to catch the tail-end of the Sunday market where local villagers come to sell their wares. Kuching is a small town, despite being the capital, so it felt like the entire town was crowded into the Sunday besar.

I sampled a few of the foods on display, including a waffle-like treat with diced peanuts inside. This one was an easy success, and something I will try to make on my own.

Some of the other interesting things being sold at the market were the live fish - one vendor picked up a 10kg fish to show me, only for the fish to slip out of his hands onto the hard pavement - and the dead fish. I believe the heads shown to the left are actually dolphins, which I believe is a protected species. Such laws must not apply here because turtle meat was also up for sale, and I know that is a protected animal.

I continued strolling the town and slowly made my way toward the riverfront where Chris and I ate at a small Sarawak-style cafe. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and traveling is exhausting, so I filled up on a spicy vegetable soup, soft shell crab, and Sarawak's native rice dish (spiced chicken, diced cucumbers, and a brown colored rice with herbs). I am usually afraid of ordering crab because I have a difficult time getting to the meat, but soft shell is easy, and in Sarawak it is absurdly cheap ($1.50 for two crabs).

For the afternoon I worked my way through a couple of museums, which turned out to be every bit as interesting at the ones in Kuching. There was an oil drilling exhibit sponsored by Shell Oil, but it seemed like a small token of appreciation for the billions of dollars that are pumped out of the country every year.

Another part of the museum dealt with tribal body art, but I will come back to this topic later in the day.

The final section of the museum displayed the variety of wildlife in Borneo, and I was naturally captivated by the never-ending ways in which I can meet a painful end during my stay here. The slithering section of Noah's Ark must have found their way onto the island because there are cobras, vipers, pythons, sea snakes, and a slew of others that come in every color imaginable. As if this wasn't enough of a deterrent for some one who always checks his shoes before putting them on, there are also crocodiles, sharks, spiders, and monitor lizards.

One of the "artifacts" on display was a wrist watch stopped at 10:45 on the 7th of some unknown month. The newspaper article beside the watch explained the time shown indicated when a local man was eaten by a 16 foot crocodile that measured over one meter in width. I took satisfaction knowing the local police gave up on trying to capture the crocodile, figuring it easier to shoot rifles into the water and "toss hand-grenades in the crocodile's general vicinity". I can visualize this hunt going on with a group of locals standing by to watch from the shore as if it is nothing new.

Welcome to Sarawak.

I wound down the day along the waterfront and watched as a local artisan solicited passer-bys for a caricature. He spoke a bit of English, which made it fun because he had a joke about every one - especially the Malays.

The indigenous Sarawak people are highly proud of their heritage, and for the most part they do not enjoy being an official state of Malaysia. It was explained to me that the timber, mining, and oil money are being pumped out of the local economy and sent to the Malaysian government. However, there is some justice: residents from Peninsular Malaysia must pass immigration upon arrival in Sarawak, and they can only stay for a maximum two weeks. I was granted 2 months.

For dinner I met up with another traveler I met along the waterfront, Victoria from New York City. She is a not-so-typical rich kid who majored in computer science, but retired from IBM only 4 years after graduation. Her parents left her a large endowment, you see. She now spends 3-4 months out of the year traveling to the world's most exotic places, and for the rest of the year she "enjoys her chance to wear high heels in NYC". She isn't exactly my cup of tea - no one likes a spoiled person who "has the world figured out" - but she was talkative and a fun person to be around for the night.

For dinner, Victoria brought me to a local restaurant run by an Iban councilmember (the Iban tribe was formerly Borneo's most powerful and militaristic) who cooked us dinner and sat down for a chat. He was a wealth of information, and was more than happy to entertain my litany of questions about tribal art after I discovered he studied Art Science (of all things!!) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida (of all places!!).

Some of the more interesting pieces of information...

 - The Iban tribe are tattooed as a demonstration of manhood, to show respect to the gods, and in preparation for a difficult endeavor. They find it strange that Westerners tattoo themselves for something as trivial as "a look".

 - Men often have their penis pierced perpendicularly with a 2-3 inch long bone or piece of metal (resembling a large splinter), and some even have beads sewed into the foreskin to resemble the rafflesia flower. Both of these painful procedures are done to enhance the experience for women. Personally, I think it will only scare the hell out of them.

 - The Iban were the strongest tribe in Borneo, and although head-hunting has long since ended, the skulls of fallen enemies still hang from the communal longhouses in the belief that it gives strength to the tribe.

The final ounce of fun came after I scoured the town in search of a television showing the live football match between Arsenal and Chelsea. Eventually, I found what I was looking for, and I happily sat down to enjoy the game.

While watching, I chatted with a group of students sitting at an adjacent table. After I told them I was heading up-river to a communal longhouse, they insisted I wouldn't be safe because headhunting is not as dead as the government lets people believe. During the period from 1997-1998, they explained, members of the Iban tribe killed rival Madura tribesman in the Indonesian state of Kalimantan (southern half of Borneo), and after decapitation the dead bodies were hung from trees. I was apprehensive about believing such things, but they all insisted they saw the bodies, and the government was powerless to stop it.

As long as I don't do something obviously offensive or threatening, I can't imagine any one would target some one as helpless as me. Just in case, I will tell everyone I am Iban for the remainder of the trip.

Maybe if I get my penis pierced they will actually believe me.

I'd rather they just took my skull.