Rowboats lined up at the pier of Sungai Sawarak could take you across in less than five minutes. Lanterns dangled in them and the boat smelt of a bygone era. I had set out earlier in the evening, and after crossing the river once, was on another boat back. As the boat swayed gently, I looked out to trace the river’s curve. Shimmering waters from grand lights on the opposite bank told of the urban side of Kuching.

‘Kuching’ in Malay means cat and so, do not be surprised if you see stone cat statues huddled up at the central square or wooden cats perched on shelves of roadside shops, tall sleek ones — polka dotted, striped — all designer cats! Once the thriving capital of the White Rajas of Sarawak, Kuching is small enough to be explored on foot. The cultural diversity in Sarawak is rather high and it could be a linguist’s treasure house: most locals speak at least Malay and their ethnic tongue, which could be Iban, Bidayuk, Melanau or Orang Ulu. The Chinese speak Hokkien while Mandarin is the medium of teaching.

Disembarking from the boat, it was a short walk to where we were put up. I decided to walk the opposite way, along the river, and then stopped at the restaurant which had a vegetarian roll on its menu. I pulled a chair to sit facing the riverfront and ordered Ice Horlicks to start with. No bright lights interfering with the dots of lantern boats in the river. Only a gentle breeze that carried stories from unknown islands of rainforests and indigenous people, perhaps not that far along the meandering Sungai Sarawak.

crafts paradise

Back in the cosy hotel, I indulged in a round of playing pool and making random conversation with other travellers. This had now become a routine in the past one week of our stay. The course organised by the Association for Tropical Biology and Conservation was coming to an end, and we were already making plans for the one free day we would have in the end. Last weekend we had made it to the oldest museum in Southeast Asia. It is incredible just the number of indigenous groups that inhabit this small island, and such a variety of hand-woven carpets and bamboo and wood crafts on display. A lot of the crafts that were up in the museum shelves were also in the street-side shops. Sarawak evidently is one place where indigenous people and their rich cultures are an integral part of the present and not confined to chapters in history.

Shopping in Kuching is not a strenuous experience. A small row of shops lines the main city square. They have paintings by local artists, wooden cats, Ikat printed bags, table runners and dresses. My pick is a small rug made of a native rattan and the bark of a tree in criss-crossing strips. Called kasahin in the local dialect, in native houses they are laid wall to wall, covering the entire floor.

We were more fortunate than the average traveller — on the Conference dinner night there was not only a large platter of local cuisine to sample, but also several indigenous groups of men and women in ethnic costumes dancing to drums and musical instruments. It could only be apt, for Sarawak is the annual host and organiser of the Rainforest World Music Festival, an event that indigenous musicians from all continents look forward to.

Borneo’s tropical wonders

It was a drizzly Sunday morning and we were headed to Bako National Park. Aseasonal rain patterns are characteristic on the Southeast Asian islands, which means one needs to be prepared to face rain on any given day any time of the year. On the island of Borneo exist some of the most serene Old World tropical forests. About 37 km north-east of Kuching, Bako island is the smallest National Park in Sarawak (about 28 sq km) and boasts a diversity of biomes — coastal rainforest, dry open scrubland and mangroves to name a few. It is located at the tip of the Muara Tebas peninsula at the mouth of the Bako and Kuching rivers.

From Kuching we took a minibus to Bako, after which it was a 20-minute boat ride from Kampung Bako to the Park. Houses in this village stood on stilts. Children splashed in the water and women were busy with laundry. The mist of rain was still in the atmosphere. My mind filled up with a tingling anticipation of the wilderness that lay ahead. All the tropical wonders of Borneo, seen in National Geographic magazine and Discovery channel as a child, were soon going to be a reality on this tiny island.

From the boat to the white sandy shore, we had to wade through the gentle waves; and as soon as our feet set on the sand, the crabs scattered and dispersed. A cup of tea at the bamboo restaurant was a welcome suggestion. Of the 16 marked walking trails for visitors, we took the one that would take us to the cliffs.

The first sighting is of the silver leaf monkey with its golden-haired young one clinging on. Walking a little distance on the raised wooden path built on the edge of the mangrove, I caught the blue sea on one side and the luring canopy of the rainforest on the other. The mangrove is fringed with blue- and coral-coloured crab with rather comical, stick-like eyes.

Following the trail into the forest, eyes were searching for the Proboscis monkey among the branches above. It was on our return path that a single male made a fleeting appearance. After about 20 minutes on the trail, the path suddenly opened up to the turquoise blue sea. A monitor lizard had just made its way from the sea to the rocky coast and apparently was not comfortable to spot us on the beach. The verdant mountain and seascape made me think of the Konkan stretch on the western Indian coast, which is known to have harboured pristine evergreen forests in the past, only to be victim of massive encroachment and ill-conceived development projects.

A woodpecker drummed its beak on a dead, resonant branch. Hidden in the foliage beneath us was a vibrant Paradise Flying snake; it stayed calm as the camera kept clicking and glided to the wet rock beside us. The trail then led on to open scrub and, as a climax spot, we reached the cliff overlooking the stunningly blue sea. There is a narrow path that goes down to the beach and it is impossible to resist even if you are not a swimmer. It was late afternoon and we lost count of time spent on that tranquil beach. Our boat driver on the return made sure we saw the sea stack formation — a geologist’s delight in the middle of blue waves, and a sight to behold.

Dusk, on the Sarawak coast, is a time of immense beauty. Groups of monkeys clamber higher into the canopies. Birds settle on their favourite trees and their chatter slowly fades behind the waves. And the crimson sun sets over the rock-bordered sea that’s no more flaunting its blue.

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