Uncle and Miss Rachel do Borneo

In some ways, the world is now very small. You can take cash out of the ATM anywhere in the world and if not, hey there is always Visa. You can book flights and accommodation ahead and keep in touch on the internet. Gone are the days when you relied on travellers cheques and currency, postcards and letters.

But there are still some places that make travel adventurous, wild and alien. Borneo is one. Now, Borneo doesn’t officially exist anymore, it is an island owned partially by Malaysia and in larger proportion by Indonesia. We went to Sabah, in the top eastern corner, on the South China Sea (where, you may be pleased to learn, piracy is alive and well).

Getting from Monkey Mia in Western Australia to Sabah is a fairly long and convoluted affair. First to Perth, then Singapore, where we chose a hotel in one of the more colourful parts of town. From our window we could watch the ladies ply their trade in a buzzing, seedy area with restaurants emblazoned with such appetising headers as ‘PIG STOMACH ORGAN SOUP’. It was hot, steamy and chaotic, with diesel fumes pumping. From there we headed into mainland Malaysia, crossing the causeway with up to 10,000 motorbikes and scooters each and every day. The Malaysians come from Johor Bahru (affectionately called JB) to work in the prosperous Singapore, and Singaporeans in turn cross over the border to get cheaper goods that are government subsidised. So much so, it is illegal to leave Singapore with less than ¾ of a tank of petrol: the government want your hard earned dollar to be spent in Singapore, thanks, where the gas is at least twice the price. There is definitely some low level friction between the neighbours: the whole bank of the river separating the two is under video surveillance on the Singapore side, and those attempting to cross illegally face three beatings and being sent back. The Malaysians have stopped selling Singapore sand in protest at their proposals for giant supercasinos. Now Singapore can’t make cement for its runaway building development. You also can’t get any old cab across the border. No, you can only go from point A in Singapore to a designated spot in Malaysia, where the cabbies from both nations trade bemused customers while they sit and drink coffee. It took us several hours to finally reach JB airport, then scramble for seats vaguely near our kids on the chaotic (but very cheap) Air Asia flight to Kota Kinabalu. Inevitably, this is dubbed KK, to Kuala Lumpur’s KL. I had always thought this an expat affectation, but no. Even the cabbies abbreviate them.

Our arrival into KK was surreal. Our first taste of Borneo was not jungle and third world, but a thriving, pleasant city right on the coast that was really pretty developed. Our hotel was absolutely lovely, and we sank gratefully into leather sofas listening to the lounge bar band singing Robbie Williams and Abba, and sipped our chardonnays. Of course the duo were pretty ropey, but Jenna danced her socks off to their delight, while Rhys, Joe and I had our eyes glued instead to the TV. It was all quite bizarre: after two days of travel we were sitting in luxury watching – yes – the Six Nations live on TV in the bar. I shall not discuss the scores further as the blackbird of depression will doubtless land once again on my shoulder, but lets just say those Italians are doing jolly well these days …

On again after just one night, we took our bus out of town and headed for the hills. A pretty big hill, infact the highest in Southeast Asia. Mount Kinabalu is visible from KK, literally meaning the city of Kinabalu, but it still takes more than 2 hours to reach it. As you travel across Sabah, you do see jungle, but you also see mile after mile of palm oil plantations, with huge diesel trucks belching out fumes as they trundle from plantation to smelly mill. Though its disastrous for the environment, you can totally understand why people remove all the natural forest and plant this lucrative crop – they’re just trying to make a living. Aren’t we all?

We had a lovely driver who stopped for photo opps, lunch and a dip at Poring Hot Springs. Though the springs themselves weren’t that impressive, replete as they were with sulphurous fumes, stagnation and – frankly – filth, the kids loved it. They were absolutely besieged by the Malays (this is definitely a local attraction rather than a stop on the tourist route). We had photo after photo taken, and the locals cheered whenever Rhys dived in. Joe was called Uncle, and everyone was wreathed in smiles. Joe and the big two went off on a canopy walk that even Joe found precarious; basically two planks across the canopy with roped sides. Rowan and Rhys tackled it with their ever amazing bravery.

We spent two pretty lazy nights in Kinabalu National Park, at about 2200 metres, enjoying the tranquillity and the cool of altitude. Much as we would have loved to climb to the jaggedy summit of this incredible granite mountain, it was 4800 metres and a 2 day ascent and descent. We just didn’t think we could inflict this on the kids, getting used as they were to Asian food, culture and people. We had an incredible house perched high up in the rainforest, which the kids found spooky. We think this was because it had several rooms – the first time in months they have had room to swing a cat! We had fun trekking off into the forest, keeping the kids quiet as mice, trying to spot some animals. But very few animals live up this high, and we knew we had to wait.