Borneo- Niah Caves

We landed in Kota Kinabalu with slightly disturbed stomachs from the 'Hot Pot' cuisine we had our last night in Singapore. Hence, we spent most of our first day in Borneo curled up drinking water and eating 'digestives'- cookies containing primarily of fiber and fat. Not the most auspicious start to our adventure. But, looking back at our 10 wondrous days through Kota Kinabalu, Mt. Kinabalu, Bandar Seri Begawan(capitol of Brunei), Beaufort, and Miri- this is the only vaguely sour part of the trip. After all, if any of you have had Digestive cookies you know they are a pretty good reward for a badly behaving stomach.

Even though we were delighted at the views of Mt. Kinabalu and surprised by the relatively un-conservative nature of Brunei- I'm going to zip on by for the time being and skip straight to Miri. Here, we visited the Niah Caves and stayed in a longhouse of the Iban Borneo natives.

Niah Caves is in the Sarawak region of Malaysian Borneo and is near the coast about 115 km south of Miri. We took a 'chartered' bus from Dennis(aka Mr. Chua), who plucked us up on the way to the Bus Station. For nearly the same price as the three hour bumpy bus commute route, Dennis's van with stuffed animals lining his dashboard looked a little more inviting (not creepy- promise).

We popped out of the van and headed into the park headquarters amongst 10-15 other foreigners and told them we wanted to stay in the Longhouse in the park. The longhouse is part of the Rumah Chang Niah Homestay program- where we could rub shoulders with the bird's nest collectors for the Niah Caves. We were directed to hike into the park into the village and ask for Patrick Labuan. Around 2 miles later we arrived in the village. The houses were on stilts and we were on the wooden walkway that rose above children doing cannonballs into the muddy water, and women cleaning dishes in the same.

We felt pretty dopey sweating our butts off, looking around with our backpacks on- no idea where we were suppose to go, or how to communicate with anyone. It was really the only time in Malaysia that we were unable to communicate smoothly in English. I'm embarrassed to say that the only phrase we've been able to successfully pick up in Bahasa Malaysia is 'Terima Kasih,' which simply means 'Thank you'. Following a series of people looking at us, speaking to us in Bahasa Malaysia, realizing that we had no clue what they were saying, eventually led us to someone who spoke English and could direct us to our home stay with Julia.

Julia's mother sat us down and and fed us a sweet tea and biscuits. We couldn't communicate very well and apologized for not knowing more Bahasa Malaysia. She was very sweet and hospitable. It's funny how much communication can be done in body language. We finished up with the tea, left our bags in her living room, and headed off for our first hike of the day to Buhkit Kesut.

Oooh, Buhkit! Kesut! Kicked our butts! We now use the phrase 'Buhkit Kesut!' to exclaim and convey the feelings that would usually be replaced with a variety of four letter expletives. The Park Guides described the hike as 'quite steep but the views are worth it.' Well, the views were definitely worth it. Which is saying a lot considering in Bahasa Malaysia ' quite steep' translates to ' 45 minute vertical scramble including 4 steel ladders which are bolted to rock and a via ferreta-like structure to boot.'

We ventured down from the hike just in time to savor Julia's tasty cooking. To our delight, she prepared a wonderful chicken curry, egg, and steamed rice feast. The only thing that could polish off the longhouse experience was to taste... ladies and gentleman... DURIAN. And believe you me, if I could have inserted a drum roll into your computer speakers/ cube bounded headphones, and let it blast out, I would have! Because Durian deserves a drum roll. In my memory, it is by far the most pungent, flavorful, natural tasting thing I've ever had.

Durian is encased by a spiky green layer which protects its tender taupe colored insides. It has the consistency of a cooked yam and the taste of... well... of.. the bottom of a recycling bin. A frat boy's recycling bin. It has layers of flavor, but none of which my taste buds would allow me to take pleasure in. That being said, I can see if the fruit had been introduced to us as children we could have acquired a taste for it. Durian, after all, is Julia's favorite fruit! (She giggled as we tried to politely ate it down- not the first time for her to see squirmy foreigners try the delicacy.)

Well folks, the Internet cafe has finally gotten too hot for me to stay couped up here. We're off for dinner and some cards.