Kuching

Eighteen hours of flying, thirteen hours of layovers and only five hours of sleep spread out among fifty-six hours of waking. Needless to say, I’m glad to finally be in Kuching.

Taking off from Sea-Tac airport, the excitement that had been building over the last week for my departure to Borneo started to trickle out. I watched the Puget Sound land and sea scape slip by: water, mountains, forest and eventually coastline as the aircraft made its way towards the Pacific. The ten hour flight to Japan was made wonderful by warm scented wash cloths, hot coffee, Jurassic Park (my current travel read) and the doodle-faced banana given to me by a very giggly stewardess at the end of the flight.

The journey that proceeded between Narita and Kuching was a seemingly endless montage of excellent airport novelties: designated smoking rooms, bidet toilets, ornate gardens with live orchids and coy fish, mid-airport “sanctuaries” for the exhausted traveler in search of some shut-eye, etc. I’d already stepped into a whole new world and I hadn’t even gone through customs.

On my flight into Kuching, the smile I’d been fighting back since leaving Singapore broke across my face having finally laid eyes upon the winding rivers of Borneo. The forest, the mountains, even the clouds were more majestic than I had imagined. The gentlemen I sat next to eyed me amusedly once or twice as I nearly rocked in my seat with excitement. “I’m here!” I thought in exclamation, not feeling I should announce it quite as forcefully as I felt it to anyone else. After months of planning, researching and emailing, I had finally arrived in Borneo.

Once off the plane, I breezed through customs and grabbed a taxi into town. It was at this point in my journey that I realized the true weight of my pack. The steps up to my hostel were quite steep and narrow and I had to stop mid-way up one flight to readjust the monster. Fortunately, I did not have to go far, however, it got me thinking about future travel logistics.

As soon as I got into my room, I cleaned up, unpacked and then went out for lunch. Another young woman from the hostel, Judith, joined me. She’d been in Kuching for a week, having just come from a five day stay in Hong Kong and knew her way around. We had an excellent time strolling through the city together, chatting about travel and going to “Uni” in the U.S. versus Sweden – her home country. She’d done quite a bit of traveling before this trip and emanated a calming self-reliance. Sharing in an adventurous spirit, we clicked.

Centrally located in the historic district, Singgahsana Lodge (our hostel) was placed among many good restaurants and shops. It was just around the corner from Carpenter Street, one of the more famous drags in Kuching. The business districts here are comprised of “shop-houses” owned predominantly by Chinese families. In these “shop-houses,” the businesses – which may be restaurants, coffee shops, furniture shops, trinket shops, specialty repair shops, grocers, etc. – are on the first level and open onto a covered walkway. The families that own these businesses then live on the level above.

 

Kuching is a very diverse city, with indigenous Bornean Dayak and Oragn-ulu families, Malay families, Chinese families and Indian families comprising the majority of the population. Mosques as well as Hindu and Chinese temples are dotted throughout the city center, and in the evening the call to prayer can be heard echoing throughout the city.

Coincidentally, I arrived in Kuching during Hari Raya Puasa, the celebration of the ending of Ramadan for Malays. Hari Raya is a national holiday in Malaysia, and as such, things have been very slow. But I am coming to appreciate moving slowly: walking slowly, taking time with the folks that I am talking to, making up my day as I go along – really waiting for Kuching to show me what to do. And thus far, it has gone swimmingly.

Next time: Meet Talkalot, one of the many cats to give Kuching its nick name: “Cat City”