saying goodbye to malaysia

Borneo awed me in unexpected ways. There was, of course, the rainforest trees pouring over the landscape for as far as my eyes could see, the pair of wild orangutans that we were so blessed to spot, the numerous monkey families (often with little ones clinging to the underbellies of the parents), and the exotic birds with colourful crowns sprouting from their long beaks. But there was also the full leafed ivy engulfing the telephone poles along the edge of the road; the boom of the rain drops slapping the ground during one of the strongest storms; foolishly dancing with Bella on our balcony; a rainy river cruise with the most refreshing cool air; watching young orphaned orangutans tumbling over one another at the shelter; and an evening mist that swallowed up the mountain roads as low hanging clouds dotted the peaks, obscuring the distant waterfalls that glistened through the trees.

I was saddened by the endless palm tree plantations. The scale is unfathomable. Just as you can stand in the middle of the forest and see nothing but jungle, so can you stand in the middle of a plantation and see nothing except palm trees eating away at the hills and valleys for miles upon miles. I believe profoundly in the goodness of the human spirit, but sights like this affirm in my mind that we are a vile species. Our guide told us that the primary rainforest has all been logged away. Now only the secondary forest remains. We reap such destruction.

Malaysia was not what I expected. I thought that my experience there would be similar to my first experiences in Bali— endless wonder and ever-expanding love in a place that nurtured my being and fed my soul. But there was something that perturbed me about Malaysia. I think I was craving a level of authenticity that I only grasped briefly in the jungle drives and on the beaches of Turtle Island. My memories of Borneo have grown more and more beautiful with time, but I can't forget the horrific destruction either. I know that I want to go back one day. I feel like there is still more for me there— more to discover and a magnificence that I never got to experience.

Our flight departed Malaysia at sunset and it was an extraordinary farewell. The sky glowed. Bella and I clicked our cameras rapidly, awed by the beauty as our plane rose through the air.

Fun fact: Malaysian drivers like to put big stickers with movie titles on their cars ("Transformers," "Terminator," "Transporter.")

borneo part three: turtle island

Another early morning, another long twisting drive through the dense green. We continued to be shocked by the sprawl of palm trees and amazed by the haunting jungle peaks rising out of the distant clouds. We were driven to an ocean spotted by colourful boats and communities of huts standing on stilts. Our own boat rose and fell through the pulse of the waves and it was difficult to avoid getting wet, but with the warmth of the sun, we didn't mind at all. We dipped our hands into the spray and appreciated the coolness. The water was so blue and there was so much garbage.

Our destination was Turtle Island where Green Sea Turtles come to nest. It is a tiny island right on the border with the Philippines so there are military men stationed there alongside those working with the turtles. Two soldiers decided to walk with us on our last night and transferred some pictures of a nesting mamma turtle to my phone while promising to let us play with some of the baby sea turtles that were waiting for release near their camp if we visited them in the morning, We didn't end up visiting them or their turtles, but I think that might have had more to do with us sleeping in then intentionally refuting their advances.

The island is one third soft white sand and two thirds lava rock. It's small enough that you can walk around the entire island in a short amount of time, though as someone who did it, I don't recommend it unless if you have proper shoes. I left Bella sketching on the beach to go for a walk in my bare feet and when I reached the border of sand and rock, a passing man warned me against going any further without shoes. I am stubborn and I love a challenge, so I ignored his advice. I spent the next forty minutes jumping and stumbling over a massive field of rough boulders trying to avoid the sharp shells that covered the ground. Thankfully, I have fairly good balance (Bella nicknamed me "mountain goat" after we climbed a volcano together last year in Bali because apparently I looked pretty agile) and managed to escape without injury or breaking my camera. I fell twice, but became aware that I was going to fall early enough in the process that my landing was as soft and painless as possible.

When I finally rejoined Bella on the beach, she was still sketching whilst sitting upon a giant driftwood stump. I collapsed into the sand-- completely relieved and exhausted and ready to tell the story of my foolishness.

That night was magical. Our guide took us to the beach under the twinkle of the stars to watch a giant mamma turtle lay her eggs in a pit she had dug in the ground. She was in a trance, fully focused on fulfilling her role and duty to her species. A park ranger perched near her rear and scooped up the eggs as they fell, dripping, and placed them in a bucket. They were then taken to the nursery where they could be watched and kept safe from predators until they re-emerged from the sand. Watching the mamma turtle was such a humbling and beautiful experience.

Once she had completed her task, we were taken to the nursery to meet a basket full of squirming, tiny youngsters. They were so small with flailing flippers and little black eyes. We took them to a beach far away from the nesting mammas to watch them be released. Bella and I were in love with the little ones and got very excited when our guide told us that if any of the babies started to run towards us, then to please pick them up gently and turn them in the right direction. As fate would have it, some babies scurried towards us and we were able to hold them. One was so determined to avoid the ocean that we had to carry him to the waves.

Releasing a baby sea turtle into the ocean where he will hopefully live for many decades to come is definitely one of the most magical things that I have experienced.

borneo part two: jungle

Bella and I walked into the airport in Kota Kinabalu at 5AM. We were so focused on not being late for our flight that we arrived a full hour before any of the other passengers. None of the shops were open yet, so we had a picnic with the snacks that Bella had packed from England. We sat in the waiting seats and ate raisin bread, popcorn, and mentos for breakfast. A Canadian couple from New Brunswick (whom we had met on our tour the day before) were some of the first passengers to arrive after us. We laughed and learned that we would be on the same tour for the next four days.

We flew into the city of Sandakan and from there, were driven away from civilization down winding dirt roads surrounded by green. This was the first time that I became aware of the palm tree plantations. The trees are so dense and so endless that they almost look natural and— at the beginning— we were nearly fooled into thinking that these were real forests. They stretch onward for as far as the eye can see, extending over cresting hills and gentle slopes. I never could have imagined the size of that overgrown destruction. I still don't think that I have fully grasped the scale.

We visited an enormous cave filled with swallows, cockroaches, and bats. Bella and I took silly pictures, I tried my best to terrorize her with cockroaches. And then we were on our way again, this time heading to a lodge on the Kinabalu River where we spent two days relaxing and going on river cruises. Bella nicknamed me "Eagle Eyed." I spotted monkeys jumping into the bushy trees across the river and birds with crowns flying in distant, rosy skies. We were incredibly fortunate in that we saw TWO WILD ORANGUTANS. A male and a female. A man and a woman. It's times like those that make me wish that I had a zoom lens instead of just my trusty 50mm.

I remember the storms vividly. I am so grateful for the jungle rain that drummed down with such great force and left us brimming with emotion. Bella and I stood on our front step and watched it fall. Earlier, when the thunder had just started to roll in, I declared that if it rained— really rained— I would dance in the water. It rained. It really rained. I danced in the water. Bella documented. She danced as well though under the protection of the cabin roof. We laughed until our sides hurt. The air felt so good.