Cultural Village | Scott's Journey to Ithaca

Posted: 15 Jan 2014 07:13 AM PST

Hello My Friends

My last full day in Kuching had no scheduled tours or events so I went exploring on my own. It really wasn't completely unplanned. Near to Kuching, about 45 minutes by car from the city on the Santubong [SA1] Peninsula is the Sarawak Cultural Village. A center to display traditional life of the people of Borneo and Sarawak in particular. It collected some of the few traditional Longhouses which were the traditional living arrangements of the tribal groups that once existed on the Island. The long houses were large communal living spaces for tribes where extended family groups or clans would live and work under one roof.

Since it isn't easy to reach without a car, bus companies offer minivan service there. One of these companies picked up passengers at a hotel about a 10 minute walk from my hotel. I could have taken a tour but that would basically be the same thing except they would pick me up at my hotel and bring me back, for a much higher fee.

Since the Cultural Village held a native dance show twice a day, I planned to get there in time for an hour or so to walk around before the 11:30 performance. The minivan schedule was every two hours starting at 07:15 so I planned for the 09:15 bus. I took a leisurely walk to the hotel where I bought a return ticket (round trip ticket) from the concierge of the Grand Margherita Hotel which was the pick-up-point, for RM24 (about US$7). I was a little early so had about 20 minutes to wait. The hotel is next to the Sarawak River and I took a walk on the promenade along the river. A wide and well maintained paved walkway which is a fine focal point and leads past the Main Bazaar area to the hotel and shopping area of the city; it is well used by locals and tourists alike.

It was a dry and calm Sunday morning with just a few joggers and strollers on the promenade. On the river there were no large shrimp boats going down to the sea and one lone wooden rowboat with two fishermen on the calm waters. I watched as one man stood rowing with two oars at the stern of the boat as another man in the bow worked the net. I was so fascinated I lost track of time and had to hurry back to the Hotel. I needn't have rushed, at 09:15 the van was there parked but the driver seemed in no hurry to start collecting passenger. Finally about 09:25 he opened the door to the van and walked slowly to the hotel. I took that as my cue, with my prepaid ticket in my hand, I boarded the empty van to wait for the driver's return. About 5 minutes later I saw him at the hotel doors talking with the concierge and then he herded 9 Chinese tourists to the van. After they were squeezed into the 12 passenger van we were finally off. The driver maneuvered through side streets and finally got back to the main street along the promenade going in the opposite direction. We stopped at another hotel where a South Korean tourist squeezed into the last fold down seat. Since the A/C in the van didn't seem to work, I was finally able to open the sliding window on my side which offered a welcome blast of air in the crowded, stifling van.

We headed out of town, going along a fine highway that eventually turned into a not so fine two lane country road with very well worn and rough stretches, interspersed with rubble zones where 6 or so very low speed bumps were laid out across the highway as speed control devices. Finally we arrived at the Cultural Village on the edge of the resort area around Damai beach. Most of the passengers piled out there, the few others continued on in the van to the beach.

The entrance fee for the park was RM60 (about US$17) and for that I got a Passport which explained what the sites were and spaces to be stamped at each stop on the circuit. Each stop represented a village of one of the 7 tribal groups of Sarawak plus Chinese farmers who arrived in the early 1900s. These are built around a manmade lake which is symbolic of the fact all the groups originally built their villages and homes near rivers and the ocean. A paved or wooden board walk circles the lake with the large, raised wooden building housing the restaurant and theater between the lake and the entrance.

I didn't stop at all the exhibits but did visit most of them. All were buildings moved onto the site and are probably the only examples of original buildings of their type tourists are likely to see in the Sarawak. Any buildings like them that do exist have been modernized with plumbing, electricity and modern interiors so even though it is pretty cheesy, it's worth the visit.

There were displays of workshops and living spaces with people from the tribal groups in traditional clothing and doing traditional crafts and to talk with visitors and answer questions. Leading to the first house was a traditional bamboo bridge, the trail led around it for those too squeamish to walk across the seemingly fragile and flexible structure. I walked across on the two large bamboo logs that made up the walkway of the bridge, only occasionally grabbing the rail that due to the crossed bamboo supports were just at the end of my reach on either side. I thought I was doing fine until the young Chinese lady following me asked if I needed a hand. I said no and sped up my pace.

Inside the Iban tribe's Longhouse, a lady was slowly weaving a traditional design on a very simple loom. I also saw a traditional tribal mask, I liked that because I had something to look for in a mask. Unfortunately I never did find a mask that looked anything like it in any of the souvenir shops I looked through during my stay in Sarawak and found one that I think is of traditional design, I'm sure it isn't a real antique but I wouldn't expect to find an original tribal mask in my price range.

I did climb the three flights of stairs to the Orang Ulu Longhouse, I hate wooden steps almost as much as stone steps, but it did get me out of the rain that started coming down in buckets just as I got to the bottom of the stairs and there was no other sheltered area nearby. Inside the Longhouse a very pretty lady was kneeling behind a small table selling a few souvenirs. Seeing her was worth the long climb up the stairs. Standing on the covered porch waiting for the rain to stop or at least let up a little, all I could think of was the smiling Chinese gentleman from the minivan who had told me he and his family were headed to the beach; I hoped they were able to find shelter. Around the lake, the Melanau Longhouse also had long stairs leading to it, so I just took a picture and walk on, it had stopped raining by then.

The Malay House had one flight of stairs so I climbed those but just poked my head in through the door to take a picture because you had to remove your shoes to enter; I had worn my hiking shoes and not sandals so took my pictures and stamped my Passport before going back down the steps.

My last stop was the Chinese Farmhouse. Divided into two parts and built at ground level, the farmhouse contained the family living area with beds, kitchen, etc. on one end and at the other end where work took place were farming tool displays including small, wooden, hand powered thrashing and cleaning machines for pepper, one of the major crops farmed by the early Chinese.

By that time I was getting hot and tired from walking in the heat and humidity so I retreated to the Theater/Restaurant building. It was still about 20 minutes before the cultural dance performance so I found a seat in the shade outside the restaurant and relaxed, watching the other tourists coming and going. I had brought my own bottled water so didn't buy anything to eat or drink.

When one of the workers began ringing a gong, I guessed the doors to the theater were about to open so I moved over to a seat near those doors while the other visitors queued up at the door; the line quickly stretched out from the shade of the overhanging roof to the direct sunlight. I figured there would be plenty of empty seats so decided to wait in the shade. Shortly thereafter the South Korean young man who was the last to board my minivan came over and sat down beside me. He didn't speak much English, and I don't remember any Korean, but we had a rough conversation anyway. Finally a tiny, skinny man dressed like a forest ranger opened the doors and the now much longer line of people moved inside. When the end reached the shade my Korean friend and I got in line. To my surprise the theater was air conditioned, built like a building within a building, the traditional wood and thatched roofed building hid a 400 seat theater with tiered, cushioned seats. The crowd spread out into separate groups scattered throughout the seating area, I followed my friend to the front row and on the left side was a nearly empty row of seats; we were about 1 meter from the stage. The doors opened a little after 11:30 and it was at least 11:45 before the curtains finally pulled back.

I can't describe the entire dance show. I could barely hear and understood nothing the announcer said about each performance. I just enjoyed the choreographed routines of the dancers in colorful costume on the stage as they performed traditional dances. The last and longest routine was by two men in leather hide jumpers and cotton loin clothes carrying blowpipes and shields dancing a routine of hunting in the forest. It was very graceful and a crowd pleaser as they would make like they were aiming at something in the trees then lower the blowpipes to point into the audience. They picked out one lady in the front row who they acted like they took offense with and kept going back to her throughout the dance like she was their next target, all to great laughter. Finally one of the men demonstrated his accuracy by popping balloons on the wall of the right side of the stage from the far left side. With one balloon left, the two men went down into the audience and brought a pretty young lady up to the stage. After a drawn out and funny routine the men popped the balloon for her and the show was nearly over. All of the dancers came out on stage and invited people from the audience to come dance on the stage and then it was over.

Back outside the crowd dispersed, my friend from Korea and I ate lunch in the restaurant and then went to the front gate to wait for our ride back to Kuching; it was supposed to be there at 1:15 PM. A different van than the one we came in pulled up and a group who didn't arrive with us clambered in, filling it to the hilt. It left and a man came over and told us that it had been our van but was full and they were trying to get a second van to come for us. About 15 minutes later the van and driver we came in arrived and we were told to get in. Just as we settled in the first van reappeared, it had taken some people to the beach and came back. There were two empty seats left, the two fold down seats. However when we got on, two others also boarded. I was in the second fold down seat, my friend in the one in front of me and the two others sitting on the engine hump behind the driver's seat facing backward. The A/C worked in this van but not enough for the 14 passengers in a 12 passenger van. The suspension was overloaded and hitting the rumble zones and rough patches on the highway bounced the van so much that the Scottish gentleman in the 4th row seat finally yelled at the driver to slow down, which he did for a while. By the time the 45 minute drive was over, mine and my friend's backs were about broken from the terrible seats and the grumbling from the back row was getting louder. At the hotel everyone got out, even those going to other hotels. For the first time ever, I complained to the driver about the ride, little good it did, I'm not sure he understood a word I said. But it made me feel better and the Scottish man agreed loudly.

I was hot, my back hurt and I needed to do a bit of souvenir shopping before going back to the hotel. I walked about 20 minutes down the now lively promenade to the main bazaar. There I went through several shops before finding the few things I needed, including the mandatory mask for my collection. Only then did I head back to my hotel and a couple of well-earned Gin and Tonics.

My journey across Borneo was over, in the morning I would leave for Bali and will tell about that next time.

Enjoy the Journey

Scott