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<blockquote data-quote="BillB" data-source="post: 74644" data-attributes="member: 9985"><p>I felt sad when we left the Iban village as they had an infectious joie de vivre and I found their civilisation unique. Their sense of humour was pretty good, too.</p><p>We retraced our steps, downriver and then the bus to Kuching where we picked up our luggage and spent the night. There are some things that take you so much by surprise that there’s no way you could anticipate them. Imagine, we staggered out of the jungle, sweaty and hot, stepped into the hotel and the first thing I saw in the shop was the latest copy of Woman’s Weekly, complete with recipes and knitting patterns for cardigans and sweaters.</p><p>That lunchtime I ordered Sarawak Laksa for lunch, a dish which originated in Sarawak but adopted throughout SE Asia. It was a delicious mixture of chicken, shrimps, vegetables, noodles, curry spices and coconut milk and I thought it delicious. So much so that I spent considerable time when we returned home on reproducing it in my own kitchen. I’ve given my final version on the recipes thread on this forum.</p><p>The next day we drove to Damai Beach, one of Borneo’s holiday retreats where we could acclimatise ourselves to air conditioning once more. We spent a couple of days of utter relaxation there, buying an oil painting of a longhouse by a local artist as a souvenir. It still hangs on our bedroom wall, exuding the heat and colour of that wonderful place.</p><p>From Damai we flew up the coast, over Brunei to Kota Kinabalu in the Malaysian state of Sabah. One of the excursions offered from here was a day trip to the Orang Utang Rehabilitation Centre in Sepilog, just inland from Sandakan. It was this opportunity that swung our decision to take this trip, so we signed up for it as soon as we could.</p><p>It was going to be a pretty tiring day as we had to get up at 5 am, catch a light aircraft across the northern tip of Borneo to Sandakan and then take a bus through the jungle to Sepilok. The states of Malaysia have become aware of the dangers that modern civilisation poses toward their native animals, and none more so than the Orang Utang. Sepilok was set up to rehabilitate young Orang Utangs who have lost their mothers, either to hunters or who have been taken from their mothers to serve as pets. These young, in their natural habitat, learn the art of survival from their mothers, so Sepilok was established to teach these youngsters the life skills that their mothers would otherwise have taught them.</p><p>Each youngster goes into quarantine for a period after arrival, then they are taught how to climb and swing through the trees. There is a small gymnasium (the kindergarten) where the very young ones get their first lessons. Then they are released into the forest where they are fed every day on milk and bananas. The idea is to make them self-sufficient, giving them enough food to keep them healthy, but not enough to make them lazy – they have to go and scout for any more food they want.</p><p>We arrived at Sepilok after having breakfasted at the Holiday Inn in Sandakan, were given a quick conducted tour of the facilities by one of the Rangers and then led through the forest to the feeding station. We stood on a slope, overlooking the tree platform where the food would be put out for them. In the silence we could see the youngsters hanging onto lianas and swinging backwards and forwards. Suddenly, we heard the noise of human voices, getting louder and louder, until a group of Japanese tourists rounded a bend in the path and joined us. At no time did the crescendo of their voices drop below a loud, loud, roar. The noise they made would have driven off a famished lion, if they had lions in Borneo. Nothing could get them to shut up. They yattered on and on as a couple of Rangers climbed onto the feeding platform with the milk and bananas. Not a baby came near. Would the Japanese shut up? Would they heck. Eventually one baby came cautiously into the clearing, climbed to the platform, took a drink of milk, grabbed a couple of bananas and vanished back into the undergrowth. That was the extent of our view of the babies. So never mention Japanese tourists to me – unless you want to see a spectacular explosion.</p><p>We waited around for a while after the Japanese chattered off towards their bus and then began the trek back to the Rehabilitation Centre. Then we experienced one of those magical moments that only occur by pure luck. As we walked down the path with the Ranger, a young Orang Utang came strolling round the corner, walking towards us like a little old man out for a Sunday constitutional. We stopped in amazement as he came closer, though the Ranger told us to be careful as this one was known to bite people when he felt like it. When he saw us he turned off onto a smaller trail and a few yards along it he stopped and leant against a fallen tree trunk. He started playing with his fingers, looking down at them for all the world like a naughty schoolboy who’d just been punished. Using my longest zoom lens I took a series of pictures of him, resting the lens on my wife’s shoulder for steadiness. I had one of them enlarged to poster size when we got home and it adorned my office wall for years.</p><p>The rest of the day we spent touring Sandakan, an interesting experience as it isn’t a city on many travellers’ must-see lists. We were shown the house where Agnes Newton Keith lived prior to WW2. Ms Keith was an American who married a British colonial administrator in North Borneo. Like many another, she fell under Borneo’s spell and wrote a book called ‘The Land Below the Wind’ about her experiences in Sandakan. In 1942 the Japanese invaded and the family were split up for internment. Her husband was sent into one camp, while Ms Keith and her son were sent to another. After the war she wrote a book called ‘Three Came Home’ detailing her experiences in that cruel period. It was a best seller when it was published and a film was made of it. Claudette Colbert played the author. The family had a great deal of luck in those years for, as the book title says, all three of them survived and came home. The film can still be caught on TV today, either on Channel 4 during the day or on TCM.</p><p>Sandakan also has an enormously elaborate Buddhist temple built on a hill high above the city, which also offers the most spectacular views of the shipping entering and leaving the harbour, as well as all the ships being loaded and unloaded in the docks.</p><p>After Borneo the island of Penang was a complete change. It’s much more my idea of a tropical paradise than Bali was. We stayed in the Mutiara Hotel on the northern coast where we spent a few days relaxing and driving around the island. There is a batik factory within easy walking distance and among the items we bought was a dressing gown for me. I still wear it to this day.</p><p>Also nearby is a butterfly farm where visitors can get a chance to see the enormous variety of butterflies to which Malaysia is home. The farm is divided into different kinds of habitat in which the various species live. When we were halfway through we heard an ominous chattering noise approaching. My stomach started to drop as a horde of Japanese hove into view. They were racing through the gardens like an out-of-control locomotive. Barely looking to left or right they went thundering past, From time to time one would stand to attention outside of the stampede while another took his photo. Within seconds they were gone, leaving us with the impression that we had just witnessed a mirage. From beginning to end it must have taken them 3 minutes to see the entire farm. We were in there for 2 hours.</p><p>A little further away from the hotel was a tropical fruit farm where we pitched up one morning. My wife becomes a fruit addict whenever we are east of Suez so we bought lychees, mangosteens, jackfruit and I plucked up every ounce of my courage to try a durian. For those who haven’t come into contact with durian the first thing I have to tell you is that it smells worse than the dead giraffe I once came across in Kenya. Most hotels won’t allow anyone to bring them in, and no airline will allow you on board when you are carrying one. The big but is coming here – BUT it is absolutely delicious, once you get it past your nose. It has a taste similar to a vanilla custard caramel. Chinese will travel miles to a farm they know produces the best durian. However, having eaten one take great care never to burp when other people are around. And if you are on Metformin you will probably be lynched.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BillB, post: 74644, member: 9985"] I felt sad when we left the Iban village as they had an infectious joie de vivre and I found their civilisation unique. Their sense of humour was pretty good, too. We retraced our steps, downriver and then the bus to Kuching where we picked up our luggage and spent the night. There are some things that take you so much by surprise that there’s no way you could anticipate them. Imagine, we staggered out of the jungle, sweaty and hot, stepped into the hotel and the first thing I saw in the shop was the latest copy of Woman’s Weekly, complete with recipes and knitting patterns for cardigans and sweaters. That lunchtime I ordered Sarawak Laksa for lunch, a dish which originated in Sarawak but adopted throughout SE Asia. It was a delicious mixture of chicken, shrimps, vegetables, noodles, curry spices and coconut milk and I thought it delicious. So much so that I spent considerable time when we returned home on reproducing it in my own kitchen. I’ve given my final version on the recipes thread on this forum. The next day we drove to Damai Beach, one of Borneo’s holiday retreats where we could acclimatise ourselves to air conditioning once more. We spent a couple of days of utter relaxation there, buying an oil painting of a longhouse by a local artist as a souvenir. It still hangs on our bedroom wall, exuding the heat and colour of that wonderful place. From Damai we flew up the coast, over Brunei to Kota Kinabalu in the Malaysian state of Sabah. One of the excursions offered from here was a day trip to the Orang Utang Rehabilitation Centre in Sepilog, just inland from Sandakan. It was this opportunity that swung our decision to take this trip, so we signed up for it as soon as we could. It was going to be a pretty tiring day as we had to get up at 5 am, catch a light aircraft across the northern tip of Borneo to Sandakan and then take a bus through the jungle to Sepilok. The states of Malaysia have become aware of the dangers that modern civilisation poses toward their native animals, and none more so than the Orang Utang. Sepilok was set up to rehabilitate young Orang Utangs who have lost their mothers, either to hunters or who have been taken from their mothers to serve as pets. These young, in their natural habitat, learn the art of survival from their mothers, so Sepilok was established to teach these youngsters the life skills that their mothers would otherwise have taught them. Each youngster goes into quarantine for a period after arrival, then they are taught how to climb and swing through the trees. There is a small gymnasium (the kindergarten) where the very young ones get their first lessons. Then they are released into the forest where they are fed every day on milk and bananas. The idea is to make them self-sufficient, giving them enough food to keep them healthy, but not enough to make them lazy – they have to go and scout for any more food they want. We arrived at Sepilok after having breakfasted at the Holiday Inn in Sandakan, were given a quick conducted tour of the facilities by one of the Rangers and then led through the forest to the feeding station. We stood on a slope, overlooking the tree platform where the food would be put out for them. In the silence we could see the youngsters hanging onto lianas and swinging backwards and forwards. Suddenly, we heard the noise of human voices, getting louder and louder, until a group of Japanese tourists rounded a bend in the path and joined us. At no time did the crescendo of their voices drop below a loud, loud, roar. The noise they made would have driven off a famished lion, if they had lions in Borneo. Nothing could get them to shut up. They yattered on and on as a couple of Rangers climbed onto the feeding platform with the milk and bananas. Not a baby came near. Would the Japanese shut up? Would they heck. Eventually one baby came cautiously into the clearing, climbed to the platform, took a drink of milk, grabbed a couple of bananas and vanished back into the undergrowth. That was the extent of our view of the babies. So never mention Japanese tourists to me – unless you want to see a spectacular explosion. We waited around for a while after the Japanese chattered off towards their bus and then began the trek back to the Rehabilitation Centre. Then we experienced one of those magical moments that only occur by pure luck. As we walked down the path with the Ranger, a young Orang Utang came strolling round the corner, walking towards us like a little old man out for a Sunday constitutional. We stopped in amazement as he came closer, though the Ranger told us to be careful as this one was known to bite people when he felt like it. When he saw us he turned off onto a smaller trail and a few yards along it he stopped and leant against a fallen tree trunk. He started playing with his fingers, looking down at them for all the world like a naughty schoolboy who’d just been punished. Using my longest zoom lens I took a series of pictures of him, resting the lens on my wife’s shoulder for steadiness. I had one of them enlarged to poster size when we got home and it adorned my office wall for years. The rest of the day we spent touring Sandakan, an interesting experience as it isn’t a city on many travellers’ must-see lists. We were shown the house where Agnes Newton Keith lived prior to WW2. Ms Keith was an American who married a British colonial administrator in North Borneo. Like many another, she fell under Borneo’s spell and wrote a book called ‘The Land Below the Wind’ about her experiences in Sandakan. In 1942 the Japanese invaded and the family were split up for internment. Her husband was sent into one camp, while Ms Keith and her son were sent to another. After the war she wrote a book called ‘Three Came Home’ detailing her experiences in that cruel period. It was a best seller when it was published and a film was made of it. Claudette Colbert played the author. The family had a great deal of luck in those years for, as the book title says, all three of them survived and came home. The film can still be caught on TV today, either on Channel 4 during the day or on TCM. Sandakan also has an enormously elaborate Buddhist temple built on a hill high above the city, which also offers the most spectacular views of the shipping entering and leaving the harbour, as well as all the ships being loaded and unloaded in the docks. After Borneo the island of Penang was a complete change. It’s much more my idea of a tropical paradise than Bali was. We stayed in the Mutiara Hotel on the northern coast where we spent a few days relaxing and driving around the island. There is a batik factory within easy walking distance and among the items we bought was a dressing gown for me. I still wear it to this day. Also nearby is a butterfly farm where visitors can get a chance to see the enormous variety of butterflies to which Malaysia is home. The farm is divided into different kinds of habitat in which the various species live. When we were halfway through we heard an ominous chattering noise approaching. My stomach started to drop as a horde of Japanese hove into view. They were racing through the gardens like an out-of-control locomotive. Barely looking to left or right they went thundering past, From time to time one would stand to attention outside of the stampede while another took his photo. Within seconds they were gone, leaving us with the impression that we had just witnessed a mirage. From beginning to end it must have taken them 3 minutes to see the entire farm. We were in there for 2 hours. A little further away from the hotel was a tropical fruit farm where we pitched up one morning. My wife becomes a fruit addict whenever we are east of Suez so we bought lychees, mangosteens, jackfruit and I plucked up every ounce of my courage to try a durian. For those who haven’t come into contact with durian the first thing I have to tell you is that it smells worse than the dead giraffe I once came across in Kenya. Most hotels won’t allow anyone to bring them in, and no airline will allow you on board when you are carrying one. The big but is coming here – BUT it is absolutely delicious, once you get it past your nose. It has a taste similar to a vanilla custard caramel. Chinese will travel miles to a farm they know produces the best durian. However, having eaten one take great care never to burp when other people are around. And if you are on Metformin you will probably be lynched. [/QUOTE]
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