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Before I landed in Borneo, there were only two things I knew about the country of Brunei. One; they had a lot of money from offshore oil. Two; their wealthy Sultan owned property in London that I dealt with as a project manager and he was a royal pain in the arse-literally. So when I saw the option of travelling to this small country that is split and surrounded by Malaysia, I figured why not? A chance to learn about how an exact geographic terrain has been run differently, and another stamp in my passport.

I took a ferry over to the Malaysian island of Labuan. I actually considered breaking up my journey there, but thought otherwise when I arrived. This island is the tax free shopping trip for Malaysians to stock up on cigarettes and alcohol. Although the people of Brunei couldn’t admit to filling up their booze cupboards, apparently they’re doing just the same. As far as my reasons for not staying on the island? I felt like a freak show just walking through the few streets near the ferry terminal when I grabbed something for lunch. It was difficult to decipher whether the looks I got were because I was white, a woman, or alone, so I chose the ‘let somebody else fight this battle’ and jumped on to the next ferry over to Brunei.

Once I passed the smallest customs checkpoint, I was faced with my first issue in this non-touristy country. There was only one choice of transport into the capital city of Bandar Seri Begawan (also known as BB) and this was not within the backpacker budget. I struggled with taking the $50 taxi and walked in circles trying to come up with an alternative. Then I caught sight of the 6 Thai women that I had briefly befriended on the beginning of the same journey in Kota Kinabalu. We had laughed at how much trip planning they had done (2 months prior) as opposed to my travel choice only confirmed 8 hours ahead of time.

I expect you guys have already arranged a ride into town?

The stream of 6 women responding at the same time telling me about the taxi driver wanting to rip them off came at me like a electronic translator short-circuiting. Once I consoled them and reminded them that their bargaining skills could match no wealthy Brunein, they offered me a ride in their taxi that they got for $40. And I got for free.

The only hostel in town had a great write up in the guidebook, but warned of irregular staffing hours. Housed in a youth complex with a glistening swimming pool tempting me as I waited, I got more and more frustrated at wasting so much time when all I wanted to do was check in and drop off my backpack. The sun was setting on the golden dome across the street, and I was missing ultimate exploring opportunities. I decided that I could not afford another 10+hour transit and check in day before meeting my brother back in KK, so I booked a flight out of Brunei in 36 hours. The exploration countdown began. I grabbed a dinner in town and hung around the wifi coffee shop as the streets emptied. Just as I contemplated walking back to the hostel, the light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour. I watched cars drive through the flooded streets and cringed for removing my waterproof poncho from my bag. It was a wet, miserable ending to a looooooong day.

In the morning I returned to the cafe for the best coffee I have had on this trip so far. It’s such a shame that other establishments favour instant. I figured if their coffee was so great, the Western breakfast might be to my liking as well. Well, it appealed to my travellers’ taste buds, but the shriveled hot dog sausages might not make the grade back in Vancouver!

I made my way over to the waterfront to catch a boat to the world’s largest water village. Village is just a silly term really. Kampong Ayer actually has 30,000 stilted houses along an 8km. stretch. My guide pointed out the schools, the fire stations and further upriver high on a hill, the Sultan’s house. 14 royal family members live there, and 500 staff members tend to their needs. Yup, I said 500. This is when I started to learn of the extreme contrasts and importance of image, in Brunei.

The royal family has certainly had some bad press over the years, but with good reason. The Sultan’s brother Jeffery has been in several legal battles (even with the Sultan) due to his unfortunate ways with money. There are abandoned buildings and there are over the top hotels that he had built for 2.2 BILLION dollars. He had a boat named Tits, docked at Nipples and the stories of his womanizing ways have resulted in a couple of unauthorized biographies. The Sultan is the countries’ leader, choosing his own ministers and signing off on everything. He has repaired his relationship with his brother, but certainly not the damage done from association. When I asked my boat guide more about the Sultan, specifically his wealth and his power, the guide told me the was an amazing man. His eyes seemed to tell me something different. There’s obviously a lot more to this story.

When I got off the boat to walk through the residential area, I expected really run down housing. When your house is standing on stilts nestled meters down into the water, you can only expect deterioration right? Perhaps, but many residents take a lot of pride in their style of housing by using brightly painted colours and surrounding the walkways with potted pants that would put any Vancouver orchid store to shame. School children hung around the corner shop that stocked a fridge of cool drinks and a shelf of household goods. The rooftops were filled with satellite dishes pointing in all directions. Homeowners smiled as I paused to take photos as they hung their laundry out their window. It was clear that these communities have a unique and settled way of life living on top of the water. The 26 villages have one hospital, 2 clinics, 3 firehalls, 13 schools, police stations etc. etc. The government (aka the Sultan) has offered them subsidized housing on land, but why move?

I popped into a tourist information office to see what they had to offer. I was immediately handed a leaflet and an ‘I heart Brunei’ pin from an box of hundreds. The traditionally dressed staff member smiled nervously as if she were under pressure to impress the tourists.The leaflet listed golf courses, shopping malls and palaces that didn’t necessarily appeal to me, but I must acknowledge my first impressions of an unaccommodating tourist country were changing to a country trying to catch up with the rest of SE Asia. The center showed off some parts of the country that I wouldn’t have time to get to-but hope to one day explore.

Back on land, I captured a few shots of the mosque by draping the obligatory cloak over my head and down to my toes. The beauty of the interior equaled the shining 24 karat golden domes from the outside. I tried to see the area where a man with a haunting voice would have sung the call for prayer that i heard at 5am, but it seemed to be an area off limits to me. I returned to my hostel to relax and delve into the pages of my book.

I had an early start the following the morning, as I had booked a tour to the southern National Park, Ulu Temburong. I boarded the speedboat with several Indian office workers, bound for the city of Bangar. As soon as I sat on the long padded bench under the window of the longboat, the driver started sussing out the weight distribution and instructed a couple of passengers to switch sides. He then climbed into pole position drivers chair, and fired up the engine. Within minutes, the boat was leaning around corners of the u bends in the river and I strained to catch sight of the passing mangroves-but I didn’t mind as the thrill of the ride was such an eye-opener already.

I was joined on the tour by a Dutch couple that had been hired by Shell to DJ a party-their holiday was thrown in for good measure. We were shuttled off of the speedboat, onto a bus, and onto a longboat. Our guide gave us a few facts about life and the area we were passing through. Apparently, a nearby resident had cut down a tree on his property without getting authorization, and was jailed for 3 months. The rainforest on this part of the island of Borneo has been preserved, and every measure has been made to endure it stays that way.

Once we docked, the climb up 800 steps began. I used photographic stops as excuses to catch my breath, but was amazed as what came through the lens as well. Red snails and lantern bugs with polka dots and stretched out bodies clung to tree trunks covered in lichen. The puddled soil that I stepped on was in fact an orange clay. This was, 100% rain forest.

A metal contraption with caged in ladders sat above the last stair. I chugged back my water, attached my cameras and began the last leg of the climb to the viewing platform. The wind started to pick up along with my heart rate, but the sight of the 50 meter tree tops below me was breathtaking. It was nothing but a blanket of green for as far as the eye could see. I snapped photos and freaked myself out a bit by leaning too far over the railing. Then I realized that the railing was not a standard regulated height as if it were in North America. The bar was level with my hip bones. I couldn’t stop the image of my own boy tumbling over the edge and the local newspaper back home reporting my death in Brunei. It’s amazing how quick the mind can overreact.

I walked across the narrow bridge and looked for any animal life in the tree tops. I could only really hear activity of sorts, a couple of branches shook and a small bird poked his head through for a quick look. I saw small windows straight through to the ground and could make out my guides kicking back smoking cigarettes against a fence post. I sat down to gaze at the treetop world. Miles away I saw a billow of smoke funneling up into the blue sky and in the other direction I saw a bird soaring in circles. And that was it. I was in heaven.

On our return to the longboat we took an alternate route past a small waterfall. I couldn’t resist the temptation of cooling off in the pool of water, so I did a sarong change into my suit and took the plunge. With the instant refreshment my body went limp and I floated to the surface. Then it started. There was a little nip on my hip, then a few on my elbows. By the time the nibbling fish found my feet I was in uncontrollable hysterics-I’m a very ticklish person! Others enjoyed the natural pedicure and I just continued to twitch with anticipation.

Before boarding the speedboat back to BB, we stopped off at a longhouse. I was uneasy walking into the accommodation used by 20 different local families, but our guide insisted, so we followed. Up to 150 people share the building, and meet up on the patio to watch the world go by. Most were at work or in school when we were there, just a few weaved baskets and beaded jewelry-that of course, was available for purchase. Some families own houses down the road and just pay the $10 per year rent + bills so that they can stay connected within their community. It’s like a traditional co-op housing project that remains across the entire island of Borneo.

This day of activity sure wiped me out and when I sat down to dinner that night, the tenderness in my calves reminded me of the stairs I had climbed. I looked through my guidebook and decided that there was definitely more to experience in this country. It was fascinating (and frustrating) to learn of the way of life in Brunei. A couple of kind hearted ex-pats shared their insights with me, and it will be interesting to see how this country develops when the oil money runs out in twenty years. Sure there is free medical and education and subsidized housing in place now, but it’s the infrastructure for the future that is questioned by many.

In the morning before my flight back to Kota Kinbalu, I raced into Royal Regalia Museum. Here, the Sultan houses the hundreds of gifts that he has received from heads of state and royalty around the world. Inside the display cases I saw a silver model of Angkor Wat (Cambodia), a soapstone seal (Canada), wooden masks (Ghana) and classic car models made of gold (Saudi Arabia). Most of the building restricted photographs, so it may be difficult to convey how regal everything was. In a temperature controlled section they displayed the Royal Chariot and ceremonial items that had been used for coronations over several hundred years. I was most blown away with the golden arm; sitting on a platform the bent elbow reached upwards and displayed an open palm with outstretched fingers in a natural curve. This is where the Sultan sat his chin when the crown was being placed on his head.

So my last couple of hours in this country were still packed with insights. I learned that the Sultan’s name is actually, get ready for this…

Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar Ali Saifuddien Sa’adul Khairi Waddien

I even had a chance to taste one of the country’s traditional foods, ambuyat. The glutinous powder ground down from the pith of the sago tree,was cooked into a stringy jelly. Twisted around chopsticks and dipped into something else for flavour, it wasn’t my cup of tea. But Brunei as a whole sure was.

It’s now a mad dash back to KK to meet my brother and prepare for the next big adventure, climbing South East Asia’s tallest mountain, Mount Kinabalu.