 
A Love Letter to Malaysian Borneo: Or, can this travel writer be green?

Author Heather Hapeta 2015

First published 2015

Cover photo by Cristian Morettin, taken at Tabin Wildlife Reserve, Sabah

The author has asserted her moral rights in the work

Travel. Memoir. Essay

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Passionate Nomad Publishing

Wellington, New Zealand

Email: kiwitravelwriter@gmail.com

www.kiwitravelwriter.com

Discover other titles by Heather Hapeta

Naked in Budapest: Travels with a passionate nomad

Surviving Suicide: A mother's story

Dedicated to Malaysia;

To all green travellers and,

To all tourist activities and destinations that seriously aim to be

sustainable - in the whole sense of the word.

Special thanks to Renée Sara for converting my words to this ebook

Table of Contents

Why write this?

Enough talk, let's travel

Meeting the hairy locals

Ecotourism

Same-same, but different

Delightful Kuching

Bintulu beckons

KK

Racing heartbeats and big bellies

Spending your dollars

Off to Brunei

Sabah's east coast calls me

Kinabatangan and Tabin

Back to my 100% pure home

Greenish - but not as green as I'd like to be

Connect with Heather Hapeta

## Why write this?

I'm surrounded by noisy, diesel-fumed boats, nudging each other, racing their engines, drivers manoeuvring so their passengers get the best view. It is an example of mass tourism almost at its worst - a slick operation where numerous vehicles have brought us to see proboscis monkeys. It's marketed as an eco-trip but it doesn't seem green to me.

It makes me wonder: can a travel writer, or any traveller, really be green - or is this just an oxymoronic dream, given the air miles needed to get to destinations?

Of course if I lived in Europe I could travel far and wide by train or boat, but here at the bottom of the world I really need to use a plane whenever I travel. Getting to the world's third largest island was no different. Borneo had been on my bucket list for years - so was living 'green'. Just as my parents did, I brought my kids up to pick up rubbish on the beach, to 'be a tidy kiwi' as old TV campaigns encouraged us, and to reduce, reuse and recycle.

But how realistic is it when I not only travel, but then pen articles and blogs about places I've been, perhaps influencing others to visit them, increasing their environmental footprint, just as I do when I add yet another destination to my travel bucket list.

In this essay-cum-travel memoir I'll consider how green I was, or wasn't, while exploring this 'seething hotspot of bio-diversity' of an island. ('Planet Earth' BBC TV). Mainly of course I'm really just taking you on a trip with me through parts of Malaysian Borneo - and giving myself an opportunity to relive some, but not all, of those magical times. As their tourism tagline says, 'Malaysia - truly Asia'.

I'll also consider, briefly, my own islands: New Zealand.

Please note, during the eight weeks I was in Malaysian Borneo, my travel was arranged by the Sarawak Tourism Board for one week and, for another one week period, by the Sabah Tourism Board. As an ethical writer, you will see no difference in my writing about those hosted two weeks, and my six weeks of self-funded travel. I write it as I see it, not because of who paid for my bed, transport or activity.

I paid for my return airfares between New Zealand (NZ) and Malaysia on Malaysian Airlines - a distance of over 15,000 kilometres, and so blow any green-credentials I could claim. But what is eco-tourism?

It seems there's no universally accepted definition of ecotourism, and there are considerable overlaps in the meanings. It's perhaps the most over-used and misused word in the tourism industry and it is often deliberately misused for marketing purposes.

I'm a self-taught writer, not a journalist, or an ecologist. This is not a scientific paper with lots of facts and figures, merely the musings about green issues by a traveller who wants to walk as lightly as possible on Earth, and is using a particularly wonderful journey as a way to explore the issues. I visit places on my bucket-list rather than the destination-flavour-of-the-month and would like to be considered an eco-traveller.

Time-rich, I'm a slow traveller, so stay longer in more places than most, trying to absorb the culture and flavours, to sit and watch people. It also means that although I don't always sign up for an expensive eco-tour, I do try to practise the principles of ecotourism.

## Enough talk, let's travel

The annual Rainforest World Music Festival in Kuching, Sarawak, (East Malaysia, Borneo), which started the day after I arrived, surpassed my expectations. Set on the edge of the jungle, in the Sarawak Cultural Village, it has become a signature tourism event in Malaysia's largest state, Sarawak. By the time I left New Zealand I'd learnt that in Malay the letter k at the end of a word is silent so had begun to say 'Sarawa' as Malays do rather than pronouncing the harsh k.

I stayed at Damai beach Resort during the three-day festival, and along with great shows nightly, during the day attended workshops with artists from various bands, combining to jam and show how their instruments work. This meant the Australian didgeridoo was playing along with other wind instruments such as a saxophone or Iranian bagpipes, making it hard to choose which event to attend. I loved the informality of them while learning about different countries, their music and instruments - it was clear the musicians loved them too.

World-wide, the music festival circuit is full of competitors want to use our travel dollars to introduce and support local and international musicians, and of course to promote their area. This is a great one for your bucket list - either as a destination, a stopover, or as a side trip while in Asia and, as I'm looking at green things, I need to note Heineken provided recycling bins & sponsorship for the festival. They also gave me a reusable bag which I'm now using for shopping in New Zealand, helping my eco-credentials by reducing my use of plastic bags.

Sarawak Cultural Village, 35 kilometres from Kuching, Sarawak's capital city, is situated between Damai Beach and a rain-forested peak. The two stages are nestled among trees at the foot of the legendary Mount Santubong, and throughout the village screens are up so everyone has great views no matter where they are. I sat on the ground on the rise in front of the stages.

Talking to a couple of the music writing professionals while at the 16th festival, I was told by Kate Welsman, from 'The Good, The Dub & The Global' on Australia's largest community radio station 3RRR that she was gob-smacked with the phenomenal Rafly.

Will Hemes, senior critic for Rolling Stone, said of the festival (while we were on a bus trip around Kuching): 'While individually there are no big stars, collectively, and the setting makes it outstanding.'

To quote from his blog on NPR (National Public Radio, USA) about the Rainforest Music Festival: '. . . many of its most stirring moments came from local musicians relegated to brief opening slots and afternoon workshop performances. There were the hypnotic hammered bamboo zithers (called 'gongs') built and played by Arthur Gorman and Madeeh, a group from a jungle-based Bidayuh tribal longhouse community about 65 kilometres from Kuching. There were soulful performances on the sape, the ornate lute that's the icon of Malaysian traditional music, by Matthew Ngau and Maya Green and a remarkable bit of Kayan nose-flute playing by the 71-year-old Juk Wan Emang.'

And a writer from Songlines said, at one of our press interviews, 'Without a doubt this is the most spectacular festival I've ever been to. Never have I felt I learnt new things about cultures as while here.'

With praise such as these from music experts, all I can tell you is what it was like to be a travel writer there: fabulous. Would I go again? Yes. Would I recommend you add the festival to your musical travels? Of course.

So who were my favourites? Well I liked about 85% of performances so will not go into details as of course future RWMF line-ups will be different - although no doubt some favourites and locals will be back on the calendar over the next few years.

The charismatic Rafly especially was great and carried the crowd with him and his band. He sang traditional songs (in his Aceh language) with modern instruments. During his press interview, he talked about the 2004 December tsunami and that some of his songs are about keeping mangrove forests for tidal protection and for fish nurseries.

Part of the festival's media programme included the 3rd 'greening the festival' tree planting ceremony during my second day. Over recent years some two-million trees have been planted all over Sarawak during festivals like this. Sarawak has 1.2 million hectares of protected forests (including national parks and wild-life centres) and planting these 150 trees is an act which, we were told by the Assistant Minister of Tourism, Datuk Gramong Juna, 'helps us trying to do good things to Mother Earth and to take care of our environment.' He continued, 'it helps reduce the festival's carbon footprint, we Sarawakians are proud to have the world's oldest tropical rainforests and they, along with our efficient sustainable forest management are valuable tourism assets, and a legacy we are but custodians of. We are serious at promoting Sarawak as an eco-destination - this beautiful land where adventure lives. Come back and hug your trees' he told us tree-planters, a combination of media, musicians and local school pupils.

'My' Golden Shower tree (Cassia fistula) is in the Government's departmental offices compound in the Banguan Baitulmakmur lake area, and it has my name beside it. Planting this one tree has done a little to reduce my personal footprint, but collectively these trees will make a difference to mine, and those of the other two hundred people involved. If you see it, let me know how it's growing. On further travels I planted three more trees in the region including in a mangrove restoration area.

The CEO of Sarawak Tourism, Datuk Rashid Khan, said these trees help Kuching continue as a liveable city. He also said they encourage the festival stall and service holders to use biodegradable products, and for attendees to use the shuttle buses rather than their cars. The CEO continued by saying that 'This festival has put Sarawak on the world tourism map and we have garnered much global acclaim.'

On the music festival's last day I had breakfast with a couple from peninsula Malaysia - she was wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed 'Recycle or Die' but confessed they cut bush for their life-style block. We talked compost methods, kids and language, and of their concerns about a rail depot being built on bush land behind their land. They hoped laws about tribal heredity land will protect it but admitted that the government could acquire it - a worldwide problem that has been repeated in Christchurch (NZ) with land and historic buildings being taken for a sports stadium, much to the consternation of many locals.

Festival over, I left Damai Beach Resort (winner of the Chief Minister's Environmental Award 2010) and moved to the Waterfront Lodge, a small Chinese B&B on the river front in the Sarawak capital, Kuching. This historic building was a wonderful base for exploring the area on foot, by river or, as I did, even for travelling further afield. I stayed there, or left my luggage there, as I explored further afield for a couple of weeks. I loved this charming city.

Interestingly it has two mayors, a Chinese one, and a Malay one. It seems they have the same regulations to apply but because of different cultures and interpretation of those regulations, have different ways of getting the job done. I believe they also have the same salary and office size.

A few months before this first trip to Malaysian Borneo, a chance encounter on the Writers' Walkway on the Wellington (NZ) waterfront resulted in an invitation to visit the Sarawak State Library with its beautiful lake and grounds. While there I was shown how to cook a couple of dishes before sampling them and other tasty meals. The point of this story is always to be friendly to someone who looks as though they could be a stranger to your city.

This new friend, who had been studying for her doctorate, lives in Kuching also arranged for me to visit the Sarawak State Legislative Assembly Building where assemblymen from all over Sarawak preside over debates and pass laws. I even went down into the chamber which holds up to 108 members - an unexpected privilege.

The 2009 building was designed to depict the state's struggles and achievements after gaining independence through the formation of Malaysia as a multi-racial society. Reinforced by nine gigantic pillars and numerous arches, the building reflects the sovereignty of the people's power as well as the support of all the races in the state. I loved the 360 degree view from the top of Assembly Building and, as with public buildings world-wide, locals were concerned about the cost of it. This nine-storey building is on the north bank of the Sarawak River between The Astana (official residence of the governor of Sarawak) and Fort Margherita, and it is best viewed from the Kuching waterfront.

The meaning of 'Kuching' seems to be lost in history. Some say it's from the Malay word kucing, meaning cat, and many locals call it 'Cat City'. (In Bahasa Malay the letter c is pronounced as ch as in church so roti canai sounds as roti chani)

The guide on a city bus tour said it could have come from the Chinese word for port (cochin) or from the Malay name mata kucing (cat's-eye) for the longan fruit, which is rather like lychee. He added that there was a small tributary of the Sarawak River called Sungei Kuching, so some say it was from this stream that Kuching got its name. So take your pick.

Cat city is the most popular nickname and the city has many cat related souvenirs and statues of cats and even has a cat museum. The museum, on the ground floor of the Kuching North City Hall, has four main galleries with more than 4,000 cat artefacts, including paintings. The group I was with were mixed in their reactions to the collection - from bemused, amused or thrilled.

It seems all Malaysians are foodies and maybe Kuching folk are at the top of the foodie-experts scale. Ask a local where to get the best rojak or Sarawak Laksa and they will tell you. Ask 'what is the best dish in this restaurant' or food stall and they'll immediately answer, or have an animated conversation with others at the table, trying to reach a consensus about the best.

As an example of foodie passion, a week after the music festival, while returning to Kuching from an overnight stay at an Iban longhouse on Batang Ai Lake, my driver told me to go to stall number 25 at Topspot. It was the one he always went to and he always had their oyster omelette. He also said that he was a minority tribe and asked if I had been to the Cultural Village. When I answered yes, he went on to tell me that the tall house was theirs - right off the ground away from animals and the head-hunters.

A local radio station reporter introduced me to the best laksa. We'd walked under Harmony Arch on Jalan Carpenter where, opposite the Sang Ti Miao temple was an unpretentious and busy Chinese hawker food hall. She was right, it was wonderful, and I returned there frequently during my stay in the city. For the rest of my eight weeks in East Malaysia, that first dish became the standard against which I compared all bowls of Sarawak Laksa.

It is referred to as the great Borneo breakfast as that's when this noodle dish, with its spicy and sour shrimp paste and coconut gravy, is served - unlike in Singapore or peninsula Malaysia (or New Zealand) where it's eaten for lunch or as an evening meal.

Sarawak makes it very clear as to the certificate grade of each café or restaurant and displays a large A, B, or C, in green, orange or red. A bus driver taking a group of media people (here for the Rainforest World Music Festival) around the city suggested we visitors would be better eating at places with As or Bs. I ate at all and had only one, brief, tummy problem which could easily have been nothing to do with the hygiene of the restaurant or stall.

Later, during my last days in Kuching, I went to the annual, three-week Kuching Festival Fair. Although it has exhibitions and concerts it seemed the food fair, with some 220 food stalls, was the main attraction. There for the first night, we watched fireworks explode colourfully above us as we, an Aussie father and son and I, tried even more local food.

The Kuching Sunday market, Medan Niaga Satok, is a must-visit. Many of the stalls are open daily so hop into a taxi and say 'Sunday market' on any day of the week and the driver will take you straight there. So, this is a city called cat city, but is not named after a cat, and has a Sunday market that's open daily - how could you not love such a paradoxical place? As I walked the streets and visited the free museums I learnt Sarawak had a strange colonial history too.

Englishman James Brooke granted control of the area after helping the Brunei with problems with the head-hunters and Sea Dayaks. He became known as the Great White Raj. Being in the right place at the right time meant his family ruled the city until the Imperial Japanese army captured and occupied Borneo in 1941; it became British after World War II. A film is to be made about the White Rajas which should be absorbing. Jason Brooke, the grandson of Anthony, the last white Raj, was visiting the area while I was there and it was suggested that he may have a small part to play in the planned movie.

Unlike many countries, this city embraces its nineteenth century European roots and values Brooke for helping unite the tribes and protecting them from the head-hunting Iban. From 1841 until the 1940s the family ruled this remote region almost as their private empire with the power of life and death over their subjects. They also formed their own constabulary, flag and postage stamps.

Anthony's great-great-uncle James Brooke was born in Benares (Varanasi, India) in 1803, the son of an English judge. He joined the Bengal Army during its war against Burma, but any dreams of glory he had ended when he was wounded. He later captained a sailing ship on a voyage to challenge Dutch control of southern Borneo and arrived in Sarawak, which was then controlled by the Sultan of Brunei. Brooke was offered authority over Sarawak if he could lead the Sultan's army to victory against tribal rebels. He succeeded, and insisted on claiming his prize. Appointed Rajah, Brooke took charge of the swamp, jungle and river, much of it populated by Iban who were not happy when he outlawed head-hunting.

Interestingly it's a bust of his heir and nephew, Charles Johnson, which stands near the waterfront. Johnson changed his surname to Brooke upon becoming Rajah, and it seems he was a loved ruler who abolished slavery, built roads, waterworks and the railway.

Later yet another nephew, Anthony Brooke, was in line for succeeding an uncle and once had taken on the role of Raj for six months. But, World War II changed everything and he ended up settling in New Zealand, 5,000 miles from the land he was waiting to rule. This last of the White Rajahs died in Wanganui, New Zealand, at the age of 98. His history too is fascinating and he'd had his titles taken off him twice although he was much-loved. When Sarawak was liberated from Japanese rule, Anthony opposed the annexation of Sarawak as a British colony in 1946, and led the independence campaign against British rule for five years. All this will provide rich material for the movie.

## Meeting the hairy locals

Only 24kms from Kuching, Semenggoh Reserve is a must-visit place. Home to semi-wild orang-utans, it was created many years ago for the rehabilitation of orphaned or rescued animals. They no longer do any rehabilitation work there but provide food for those orang-utans who want or need it. I believe they are mostly given bananas so they get bored with the food and therefore stop relying on the hand-outs and learn to eat the variety of food in the forest. The very young, and lactating mothers, also get a milky drink.

As with all wild animals, there is no guarantee how many will turn up. On the day I went, three arrived: Richie the main man, Annuar with her new-born baby, and a young male, Saddam. A Malaysian word, orang-utan means person of the forest and they're only found in Borneo and Sumatra. Highly intelligent, they use a variety of sophisticated tools, spend most of their time in trees, and make sleeping nests every night.

It's only twenty-five years ago that they were first seen using tools in the wild, using branches or leaves to scratch, scrape, wipe, sponge, swat, fan, hook, probe, scoop, pry, chisel, hammer, cover, cushion and amplify. Funnily, or rather, delightfully, they have even been noticed using a handful of leaves as napkins to wipe their chins.

Their hair is typically reddish-brown and when the dominant male Richie walked, his hair swayed, almost as if he were in a shampoo advertisement, it hung and moved so well.

While orang-utans, who live about thirty years, are mostly solitary, a group of them is called a buffoonery. Their social bonds are primarily between mothers and their dependent offspring, who stay together for the first two years. The current population in Borneo is estimated to be 45,000 to 69,000 and declining.

Fruit is the most important component of an orang-utan's diet. However, the apes will also eat vegetation, bark, honey, insects and even birds' eggs. With more and more fruit trees being planted in the reserve, the animals rarely need to venture out of the area and, as the population increases; some have been transferred to national parks, including a young male whom Richie had evidently beaten up quite badly. Unlike the 'rehab' primates, the ones born here adapt well to being unsupported in the wild. I loved visiting the reserve and seeing the orang-utans in the wild with their human-like expressions, and I especially admired their beautiful, richly coloured coats.

Sarawak has the most number of national parks, totally protected wildlife sanctuaries and nature reserves of all Malaysian states, and they make up about 8% of the state's land. (See more here on the Forestry Sarawak website)

Not all Malaysian Borneo animals are loved, and a couple of days later I was told by a UK ex-pat who was my travelling mate for a couple of days that 'that is the ugliest animal I have ever seen.' 'That' was a Bornean pig (bearded pig) in Bako National Park. With its streamlined body, long head and nose, skinny deer-like legs, feet with three toes in the front and two at the rear, plus a bristly beard along both sides of its snout, I think the Bornean bearded pig is amazing. Laid back, ignoring us travellers photographing them, they seemed most efficient at digging for roots and worms in the bush and lawns. Funny to see, they also hung out on the beach, browsing for food at low tide - perhaps they are crab-eating pigs too.

Those pigs, and the naughty macaque, were the first animals we saw when we arrived at the Sarawak Forest Department HQ to book into our basic accommodation. We'd just travelled 20km from Kuching to Bako Village and then, under a sign warning of estuarine crocodiles in the river and mangroves, climbed into a small boat for the final thirty minutes down the river to the sea.

During the boat ride we were told 'low tide, wet landing, high tide, dry landing', and on arriving at high tide we used the jetty, not the beach, to land at this smallest, oldest, and most-visited of the Malaysian national parks. Its coastline is lined with steep cliffs, small bays and beaches and covers 27 sq.km between the Sarawak and Bako rivers on the Muara Tebas peninsula - one reason it's so popular is that it can easily be visited as a day trip from Kuching.

Recommended by people on either my Twitter or Facebook pages, I'd been told the rich variety of wildlife, including 184 bird species, were best seen close to the HQ, and this ease of seeing animals is another reason why many travellers come, mostly just for the day. I recommend you stay for at least one night like I did, although my next trip will be for at least two nights. It was so peaceful when the day-trippers left and we took a night hike with a forestry guide.

After dinner we joined others at the office for a briefing, and then divided into smaller groups. 'Make sure you have closed shoes, the fire ants are active at night,' one of the guides said. The Brit and I look at each other, then down at our sandals. We were the only visitors without boots or sneakers. Oh well. Luckily, despite our open footwear, I was not attacked by the evidently terrible fire ants.

I saw my first Colugo (often called flying lemur despite not being related to the lemur, which is from Madagascar) and we followed it for three flights which were wonderful to watch as it's quite a large mammal to be able to glide as it does. We saw swifts, the birds that make the nests so prized for soup. Their nests, in the shape of a shallow cup stuck to a cave wall, are rich in nutrients although I'm not sure I'd want to eat a soup made of layers of salivary cement despite their high levels of calcium, iron, potassium and magnesium. The mother birds can barely fit in with their young: imagine a muffin top, but with live birds, oozing over the edge.

All around the park are the long-tailed macaques, compulsive thieves. Signs warn visitors to beware of the naughty monkeys and I was also told to avoid looking directly into their eyes, and to stay away from the dominant male, mothers with young, and females in heat. As most groups had all these qualities it was not easy, especially when they were hanging out in the middle of the path.

It may seem funny when they steal cans of drinks but it's not good for them. Once they associate people with easy food they become aggressive and will grab bags, or even food from your hands or table. Monkeys (and other wild animals) despite looking cute, can be violent, so please don't feed them wherever they are. I've seen many aggressive monkeys (Thailand, Bali and Malaysia) and now have a healthy fear of them and their unpredictable behaviour.

Another park favourite for me were the silver leaf monkeys (silvery lutung). With a crest of fur which runs along the top of the head it's sometimes called the David Beckham monkey. A medium sized monkey with a long tail, the grey-tips on its dark brown or black fur give it a uniform silvery appearance: the young are cute red-heads. The hair on their cheeks is long, while their hands and feet are hairless, with dark coloured skin, and have opposable toes and thumbs which mean they can grip and hold things between their thumbs and fingers as humans do.

They only eat leaves so are not aggressive to people. They hang out in groups of up to forty individuals with one adult male and all females sharing the care of the young. Evidently they rarely leave the trees, which protect them from ground-dwelling predators, and flee if threatened. The group I watched were wary but stayed in the trees, near the HQ, while we watched and photographed them.

Over the two days we walked a few of the many trails and after one, and with the temperature at 34 degrees and 93% humidity; it was wonderful to arrive at a beautiful, nearly deserted beach where I plunged into the water. That trip, we returned at low tide through a grove of dead mangrove trees. Our guide said they'd died a few years earlier from excess mud covering the roots after logging in the region.

Proboscis monkeys of course are the stars here. Endangered, with about 150 in Bako, they leap almost clumsily from tree to tree with their long, straight, pale tails flowing behind them. They eat young shoots of indigestible foliage which is then broken down in their two stomachs. Male vanity and the need to dominate mean their noses can grow to such a pendulous length they have to hold them up, or push them aside to eat. Other males, lower in rank, hang out in male groups until their noses grow bigger and they have the chance to challenge the leader and so become head of the harem.

It also seems this head of the harem is always on sexual duty with his penis erect for much of the time, leading to many postcards that say it is 'showing his red chilli.' On my return home, it's a poster-sized photo of one of these wonderful creatures, no red chilli, which I put on my wall.

They have few predators in their natural environment. They are preyed on by crocodiles but we humans are its biggest threat. With the loss of vast areas of natural habitat due to deforestation, they appear to have been pushed into smaller and more isolated pockets of bush and it seems Proboscis monkeys are rarely in captivity as they do not respond well to those conditions. They are listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) as endangered in their natural environment and could face extinction. IUCN says that worldwide biodiversity loss is continuing at an unprecedented rate, with many species declining to critical levels and significant numbers going extinct.

Habitat loss is the biggest danger to wildlife all over the world and according to Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF) only half of Borneo's original forest cover remains, down from 75% in the mid-1980s. But when, for instance, an African tribe need land for food it can be hard to argue against them cutting down trees despite the endangered gorilla. This is where tourism, and we travellers, can help by making tourism a profitable business, making animals or scenery worth more conserved than cut down and, of course, paying more for the privilege of visiting.

Unfortunately mass tourism can be very low paid, seasonal, work and can also create local inflation. Land and house prices are artificially magnified because of demand, so the cost of living for locals can be difficult. People living in Queenstown NZ often complain of these issues and many who work in the area feel they have been forced out of the town and into the surrounding region then travelling back into Queenstown daily for work.

New Zealand has a high number of creatures on endangered or vulnerable lists; from frogs and dolphins to giant carnivorous snails, so habitat modification and unsustainable farming practices are being challenged in my country. With only one Earth and the ease of travel and communication, it's of no surprise that worldwide people express concern about these issues even in other people's countries.

Years ago (late 90s) I expressed concern about the ever-expanding oil plantations in Malaysia when I first saw orchards being removed to grow oil palms on the west coast of peninsula Malaysia - just as I'm concerned about water degradation, the excess use of water and the loss of grain production in my backyard - the South Island's dry Canterbury Plains. But, all over the world, farmers, some very poor, need land to feed themselves: it's the money-driven, huge conglomerates which cause the most problems.

## Ecotourism

But what is ecotourism - a word often thrown around and frequently means nothing. In fact often it's pure greenwash, a part of marketing which misleads us into believing a product, or activity, is environmentally friendly when on closer inspection it's just words, not reality. New Zealand's '100% Pure' tourism slogan is often accused of this green-sheen when in fact the slogan was created as describing or offering a 100% pure Kiwi experience for tourists, nothing to do with the land or water - but more of that later.

About the same size as NZ's South Island, the Malaysian state of Sarawak covers 124,449 sq km (48,050 sq m), on the northwest coast of Borneo and is bounded by the kingdom of Brunei to the north, Sabah to its north-east, Indonesia on the east and south, and by the South China Sea on its west which separates it from peninsula Malaysia. Sabah and Sarawak have Malaysia's longest rivers and highest mountains. Add the high rainfall; this area is well suited to kayaking with white-water activities being popular. It was not on my to-do list for my East Malaysian travels but later, after leaving Bako, I found myself in a kayak.

Anyone who has read my travel memoir (Naked in Budapest: travels with a passionate nomad) will know I'm not skilled in a kayak. Its last chapter is about me needing to be rescued while kayaking, in a leaky boat, around Pulau Perhentian Kecil, off the north-eastern coast of West Malaysia. Fortunately this trip was on a river, with a guide, no waves, and a boat without a leak, so I agreed to try some rainforest kayaking - starting in the tiny Bidayuh village of Bengoh.

Rivers have long been the life blood of the indigenous people as transport and are now a resource for eco-tourism. So, while people have used rafts or boats for centuries, it's only in recent times that white water rafting and kayaking has become a recreational tourist activity.

My understanding of the concepts behind eco-tourism is that it's an activity which has minimum impact while providing maximum benefits to the locals. Worldwide, many places are said to be providing an ecotourism experience but is that so? It seems that so long as there is a nature component it can be claimed to be eco-friendly. That has not always been my experience. As I said, sometimes the word is merely greenwash.

This is not greenwash: McKenzie, our Semadang Kayaking guide was waiting for us and with life-jackets on, we went down to the boats. McKenzie pointed out that the kayaks and paddles were New Zealand-made. It was the dry-season, the water level was low so my boat scraped the bottom occasionally as we floated down the bush-lined tributary at the start of the five-hour, 12k trip. At the Semadang River, we were told we might experience some grade one rapids. Apparently sometimes they are grade two but not that week and grade one suited me fine.

'Look, there's a crocodile' said McKenzie. He was teasing, there are no crocs in this river and it was a cute baby monitor lizard. Whoever says the bush is quiet and peaceful has never kept quiet enough to hear the insect whirrs, avian calls, squawks and trills of creatures in the lush vegetation. We saw several birds including kingfisher, swifts, black and white wagtails, along with iridescent dragonflies and many butterflies. A couple of times we experienced the rapids we'd been warned about, had our canoes spun around and travelled backwards briefly, but stayed on board. Our land-guide was not so successful and got tipped out once.

This was a fine example of an eco, or sustainable, business, with a whole family involved from the grandmother, son, two grandsons, and a granddaughter who prepared the traditional, and tasty, lunch we had a few hours into the trip. McKenzie has a library degree but prefers his job with his father and brother.

Isabella Bird, a wonderful travel writer who travelled through peninsula Malaysia in 1879, called the Malaysian rainforest 'a vast and malarias equatorial jungle sparsely populated.' Insect repellent smeared over me ensured we didn't see mosquitos and I enjoyed the jungle with its lack of people.

This forest of infinite diversity was wonderful to visit by water and that canoe trip was a good example of why I travel. Pico Iyer, in an essay called 'Why We Travel' says, 'And if travel is like love, it is, in the end, mostly because of a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That is why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never really end.'

I travel for curiosity and to find out what's around the next corner. Even my paternal grandmother called me the 'how why and when girl.' While a resort suits many people I'm soon bored by such a lifestyle and yet can sit in a café, or on a rock at a beach, and people- watch for ages, not even talking. It's good we all want different things from our travels.

Independent travellers are often the closest to being eco-travellers. In New Zealand they can also be the least green and when freedom camping, some tourists often leave trash and excrement in their path. However, independent tourists do leave much of their travel money in the country they're in, while those who travel on tours have often paid for their whole trip before leaving home. That means very little is left in the visited country but adds huge costs in water, sewerage, rubbish, and infrastructure.

Food is an important part of travel and I always eat local, in-season food. One bizarre meal I was hosted to in Thailand had many courses which included foie gras, Wagyu Kobe beef and truffles. Not sustainable tourism at all but serving imported food, meaning the tourist dollar was not being spent in the visited country - an example of the homogenised, generic travel that mass tourism often is. I wonder why anyone would want to travel to places to be served the same food and experiences as they could have at home or any of another hundred destinations. Lots of us travel for the differences, but it seems some want the familiar. Nevertheless the future of a country as a travel destination must surely be around its point of difference, of not being a sterile, and uniformly replicated, experience.

One reason I like local food is that it tells me about the climate, culture, methods of cooking, ingredients, rituals and etiquette of a region. A good travel policy for me is - if food is offered, I usually try it. I remember someone once saying she was a willing sampler, which is a good way to try a local delicacy. When eating authentic, seasonal, local dishes in small shops, street food or at a roadside stall, I not only experience the culture and support a small business, but also save money. Such places are always less expensive than restaurants catering to tourists.

I'm often amazed to look around and realise I'm the sole non-local, so I recommend all travellers remember the old maxim - when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I don't recall deliberately eating at a guidebook suggested restaurant, although I will always eat a traditional or recommended dish. According to a 2009 World Food Travel Association study of 11,000 self-identified culinary travellers in 37 countries, authentic and local dining experiences rank as top travel motivators, and the organisation predicts those factors rate even higher today and for the future.

During the kayak trip we had great local food, including a jungle fern dish, midin, which is a regional speciality. It's a tasty and nutritious wild vegetable which is easy to get in the markets and is usually fried with shrimp paste (belachan) or anchovies (ikan bilis). No trip to East Malaysia would be complete without sampling a plateful of midin, which is available in restaurants and hawker stalls throughout Sarawak.

Still on the food theme, pepper (Piper Nigrum L) is an important foreign exchange earner for several countries. Malaysia is the fifth largest pepper producer in the world after Vietnam, India, Indonesia and Brazil. In Malaysia it's grown on small farms, averaging 0.2 ha (under half an acre) and is one of the significant crops in Sarawak, making it an important source of income for about 67,000 rural families in the interior areas. On the day after the kayak trip, on the way to a long-house, I visited a pepper farm.

The little farm was owned and run by an Iban woman and her Chinese husband. I hadn't realised the plant is a vine, growing on stakes. For ecological reasons, the government is experimenting with growing them on decorative plants as farmers can no longer use the usual long-lasting, now protected, native hardwoods. Another eco-activity on this farm was tobacco growing, and the leaves from the plants are boiled to create a natural insecticide for the pepper vines.

Local research and development have produced a simple device to separate the corns into first and second grades. This unpretentious piece of equipment has doubled the farmer's income. I was shown how it worked and it reminded me how often local inventors add modest and effective solutions to local problems. This spiral separator was rather like the cream separator my dad used on our small Canterbury mixed farm many years ago.

Malaysia grows some 25,672 metric tonnes of pepper and 90% of this is produced in Sarawak, meaning the commercial name for all Malaysian-grown pepper is named Sarawak Pepper in the world's marketplaces. Although I knew it's used in food, I learnt it's also used in household products, medical products, and even in the cosmetics industry where it seems a pepper perfume can be found. Later Google research revealed the seeds are used in prescriptions for coughs and anaemia; the oil is blended in massage oils, or diluted in a bath to assist with circulation, bruises, rheumatoid arthritis, muscular aches and pains, and the essential oil is used in aromatherapy massage to increase blood circulation.

My guide told me that black and white peppercorns are fruit of the same plant, but are processed differently. Picked when they are almost ripe, the seeds are sun-dried, which turns the outer layer black. To produce white peppercorns the seeds are soaked in water to soften the outer shells which are then removed before drying.

According to the experts these local white peppercorns have a slightly musky aroma and a rich, winey, somewhat hot flavour used locally in soup, on grilled meat or poultry. I hadn't realised white pepper tastes hotter than black, and while freshness is key to a good white pepper I have added it to my pantry for cooking southeast Asian dishes. Until now I always just had black pepper in my grinder.

While black pepper is more common in many western kitchens, chefs use white pepper in light-coloured dishes such as white sauces for the look of the dish. White pepper is also used in some cuisines for its specific flavour. It is common in Malaysian and Chinese cooking, and is always used in aromatic Vietnamese soups and pork dishes. I certainly learnt a lot at that little farm.

Continuing on my trip, unsustainably with just my driver-guide and me in the van, I have no doubt local pepper will be in the food at the Iban longhouse. Visits such as these were popular, although it seems the numbers for overnight stays have dramatically dropped. Professor David Weaver, of Griffith University (Australia) who specialises in ethical tourism, is reported to have said at a recent conference that alternative tourism can be socially and environmentally intrusive. He asked: 'does that family in Thailand really want this German couple in its home for a week?' He suggests this form of tourism can be elitist and egotistical, and points to someone who works in an orphanage for a week in hopes they will have a competitive edge when they are job-hunting back home.

At the lake, a frisson of fear ran through me as I stepped down into the canoe. Ironically, it's a man-made lake, Batang Ai, created for power generation, and I was on my way to stay with a displaced tribe whose region had drowned. Seems they have generator power for about three hours each evening. The lake level was low, with dead trees poking above the water and marks on the banks showed the usual higher level. Our boat had very little freeway and it felt as if it could easily tip over so I had fears for my camera but wanted it handy too so I could take photos - always a dilemma when travelling in wet places. I carry a small camera too and one or the other is in a waterproof bag as a backup.

The boat was full with the tribe's supplies and we had brought vegetables and meat for our hosts too. I also brought gifts for the thirty seven families who live in the longhouse. Using my guide's recommendations, I had thirty seven one-kilo bags of salt, one of the essential commodities they needed to buy, and eighty lollipops, along with colourful kiwi pens from New Zealand for the children.

Once there, our boatman slipped as he climbed the steep bank to get up to their homes on stilts. Amazingly he didn't drop his heavy load. A carved wooden figure guarded the complex and I was soon introduced to the family I was to stay with. It seems they take turns hosting their visitors and I stayed with the 73-year old chief and his wife. The chief had held that position for thirty years and although it's a hereditary role, if his son, who lived and worked in the city, did not want it, an election would be held to choose from among the other men. I understood the women voted in all longhouse issues in what I'm told is a pretty equal society.

The heads this tribe had acquired over many generations of head-hunting were buried before the valley and their old longhouse was flooded and none were in their new home. Tradition means they still build canoes for the lake to the design they used for river travel. I watched as they were adzing a new one - one of their means of earning cash. It usually takes about month working but this time many men and women were occupied with it to get some quick cash for the longhouse.

With our language differences, it was not easy to communicate with this extended family and I had been dreading the welcome and the accompanying drink. They make a wine and distil it to make a 20% proof 'whisky'. As I am allergic to all alcohol I had learnt the word pantang which means forbidden, a term they would respect without me seeming rude in refusing it. I had also told my guide and think he had forewarned them and it was not an issue. My only problem was trying to emulate the dance they had welcomed me with, and then invited me to join. I felt, and no doubt looked like, a clumsy elephant among the graceful hornbills they were emulating. About half of the families joined in the welcome which finished when the 'whisky' bottle was empty.

My bed, in the long communal corridor room, was a blow-up mattress. I had reduced my liquids in the hope I didn't have to use the toilet overnight. It didn't work and I heard the roosters at three, four, and five and then six am. I knew the time as they had three chiming clocks: one was stuck at 6.29 but the pendulum still rotated regularly - left, then right, and left again. The other two were about thirty seconds out of sync with each other so two am produced four chimes and six am, twelve.

Another noise I heard from about nine until five in the morning was very regular, rather like a cicada. It chirped every sixty seconds or so, and in the morning I questioned Wayne, my guide. He was Iban, although not from here, and translated for me. The longhouse was in quite a fuss as seems the same noise had been heard a few nights earlier and a few of the men had gone outside to find, and identify, it. Nothing was found and they were left wondering if it was a bird, a frog, cicada or their top choice, a spirit-bird. My uneducated guess was a frog or cicada.

Morning saw me successfully have a lesson with the blow pipe, and surprisingly, managed to hit the target each time. Not long after breakfast we left for a BBQ picnic lunch of traditional foods at one of their farms. I hoped they got enough money hosting people as I felt they didn't really want to engage with me as a visitor - being the only one made it hard for me too. On the noticeboard I saw July was their peak month for visitors: I was the month's only overnight guest, plus thirty eight day-trippers.

The experience reminded me of the hard work behind survival in remote places and how it all depends on a strong sense of community and self-sufficiency. However it's now a community dependent on tourism and on their children who send money back from their city jobs. As with all traditions worldwide, many of these will die out too despite the efforts and support to keep them alive. We travellers cannot expect people to stay living in poor conditions while all around them, and we tourists who visit them, have hot water, power and a far easier life. When we pop in for a two-hour visit, then retreat to a luxury bed - even if it was in a small backpacker hotel - it is treating people like inhabitants of a zoo, but sadly, all over the world the visited are often poor and the visitors rich. I wish I had bought one of their craft items despite not wanting them.

Leaving the longhouse, on a Sunday, I was asked if we could take three children in our boat as they went back to their school where they stayed Sunday to Friday. Of course I willingly agreed as it meant the transport for them was free with the fuel paid for by my trip. I suspect this was of most value of my trip to the longhouse. Earlier in the morning others had left, some crying, with crying siblings waving goodbye.

## Same-same, but different

Thinking back on my first trip to Malaysia I'm amazed I'd thought it would be uninteresting, just another colonised country. Not so. Those two weeks turned into three months and Malaysia remains my favourite Asian country, and so far, on that first visit to the eastern part of the country, it was living up to my now high expectations.

Malaysian Borneo is also different from the Peninsula. A common saying in Asia is 'same-same, but different' and it certainly applied here. The mix of some two hundred indigenous groups are collectively called Dayaks and about 50% of the population come from those groups, with 26% Chinese, and 24% Malay making up the rest of the Sabah and Sarawak numbers. The religions followed are also more diverse than on the Malaysian peninsula and, despite Islam being the state religion, in this region it is the smallest faith within those two states.

I was dropped off at the Hilton, and before the students, and my guide, continued to the main jetty, my guide said 'Heather, your trip has helped a lot of people today.' Maybe, but it felt obscene to be going from their poverty to this indulgence, from the Iban's tiny global footprint to those of all the guests here, including me, each of us with a huge boot-print on the Earth.

The Batang Ai Longhouse Resort (managed by the Hilton chain) is built in the same shape as the traditional longhouses but that's where the similarity stopped. I had a quick dip in the pool then spent time reading and relaxing in the sun - the first time since I'd arrived in this magical country.

Signs around the resort introduced guests to the resort's 'resident mascots' - geckos - and suggested we also try counting their 'resident little helpers' the fruit bats. Notices also reminded us that geckos eat mosquitos and the fruit bats, flying around night and day, not only clean up fallen fruit but also disperse the seeds, an essential part in keeping their native forest alive with birds and animals.

Just as when at home, in hotels worldwide I do not expect, or want, fresh linen daily. I also rarely use air-conditioning, preferring to experience local weather and get used to the heat - otherwise I was constantly retreating to my room, or a mall, for cool air. I found that just a few days sweating resulted in my body adjusting. Like most other travellers in Asia I too find the contrast between heat and cold too pronounced: buses, planes and trains are almost painful to travel in as they are so cold, so although turning the aircon off can be an act of greenness, for me it's really just preference.

The treetop nature walk I signed up for here sounded interesting. I'd only glimpsed a couple of hornbills in this land of the hornbill and hoped that by being in the treetops I'd get lucky, and late afternoon I met the Iban guide (pronounced eee-ban) and a few other guests at the front desk. We set off at quite a speed but with very little conversation or information about what we were seeing, and before long we started climbing. Soon I was not the only one who needed to pause to catch my breath. Partway up the hill we stopped at a grave where we were harangued about the local history - I'm sure the guide was right but his enthusiasm got in the way of it being a useful learning experience. Being a ranter myself, I smiled.

A member of the largest of the Dayak tribes, he concluded by telling us they were still head hunters, proving his point by showing us a jar of ringgits (coins) on the grave: 'See, this chief still collects heads.' We surreptitiously raised our eyebrows or exchanged wry smiles then continued up the hill, grateful we had had a stop, cooled down, drank water and got our breath back.

Minutes later I saw it. It had not featured in my mind that it was a swing-bridge which was putting us up among the treetops. I have a fear of heights - even standing on a kitchen chair raises my blood-pressure. But, we were three-quarters along our walk and there was no turning back. It seemed that if I wimped out, we would all have to retrace our steps.

A group of three led the way, and just watching them stop, take photos of each other and of the scenery, sent more adrenaline pumping through my body. Once they completed the walk over the bridge, and with encouragement from the others, I grabbed what courage I could muster and slowly set off. I was to lead the second group, and running my hands along the wire rope, with great trepidation, I walked step by fearful step. Every few paces I had to let go of the wire rope as I passed yet another wire that was somehow holding up the structure. If it breaks, I told myself, keep clutching the wire and it will break your fall, save you - as if that would be possible.

I inched across the 130 metres (142 yards) my heart in my mouth, and if there were hornbills to be seen, I didn't see any, I wasn't looking. Fearful I would fall through the narrow gaps (an actual, physical impossibility) on the bridge, I just held on tight, kept breathing and moving until I reached the other side. As we walked downhill to the resort I kept up slow deep breaths, waiting for my heart-rate to even out.

That night, eating lychees for dessert, I wondered why I didn't like them the first time. I'd tried them some years before but admittedly from a tin of fruit salad. The meals were good at the resort, but as I told the Assistant manager-engineer, I was a little disappointed the meals were not as local as I'd like. He had just told me, 'Travel is not just for eyes but for taste too. I recommend you try the food in Kuching, it's always good and clean there.' He reminded me I was an experienced traveller and continued: 'Often when guests arrive and say they are not well it is usually just not enough water or sugar, or salt.' He went on, 'they think it's the food they have eaten, so want familiar, more western, blander food.' Good advice from him for in the tropics - keep up the liquids and salt.

It's providing this familiar food and experiences which Rooksana Hossenally talks about in the Huff Post article Sustainable Tourism: barking up the wrong tree 'In wanting to adapt themselves completely to the lay western tourist, but as the recession bites and trends change, the countries are slowly losing their visitors who prefer to go somewhere that offers better quality holidays comprised of a more authentic experience at a destination closer to home. But already ruined by the Parador model, it is too late to overturn these countries' initial short-sightedness. When money is lacking, why pay significantly more to travel halfway across the world when exactly the same infrastructure and weather is available a two-hour flight away?'

I agree, it's the differences most people travel for, and although hotels need to provide for the person who is unwell and needs, or wants, familiar food, it should be a tiny part of the menu. Tourists who want the same services everywhere will always go to the closest place, the fashionable destination, the place with the best bang for their buck.

As soon as trouble breaks out (dengue fever, quake, tsunami, or civil unrest) it's the tourists who cancel their bookings, and the travellers, looking for the differences, the culture and the food of another place, who continue with their travel plans. It's their differences that all countries need to cultivate and celebrate. Uniqueness attracts real travellers and provides the steady tourist dollar. Activities like the Batang Ai treetop walk nature walk, and our quirky guide, could not be replicated.

As usual, when I left the resort I left the unmarked envelope my account was in at the desk, just as I refuse plastic bags 90% of the time - small eco-actions but collectively I hope they made a little difference to being green - whatever that really means.

Those small actions remind me of a story I've heard, attributed to Buddhism: A little boy and his dad were walking along a remote beach when they came across thousands of starfish washed up on the sand. It was a hot day and they were drying, dying, and would be dead long before the tide came back in. The boy started throwing starfish into the sea. 'That will not help all these creatures, it will not make a difference,' the father said. 'It will to that starfish' responded his son as he threw yet another one back into the ocean. So, I hope the plastic I refuse, or pick up off the beach, or the envelope I recycle, will make a difference too.

Leaving the resort a Danish woman and her ten and fifteen year old children were in my boat. 'It's a great place to travel with them' she said. 'Everyone at home was concerned but it's been fabulous.' She had been insisting they wrote about their experiences every day and they said they loved the food. Both were sad as after three weeks it was almost time to go home. Her son, discovering my job, said he wanted to be a travel writer too and I encouraged him to use his notes and see if his town newspaper would take his story about Borneo.

The boatman, hearing I was a Kiwi, said he had been a fan of Jonah Lomu (a past rugby player in the All Blacks - NZ's national rugby team). 'He played in Malaysia a couple of times' he told me. He also answered a couple of questions: he said the Iban can hunt animals but not sell them (I later found this not to be true) and also, traditional lands cannot be sold but are passed down in the family.

## Delightful Kuching

Museums are always a good source of local knowledge and all the Sarawak museums are free. Sarawak Museum, the oldest of its kind in Borneo, exhibits collections of local natural history. A beautiful building, it was built by the White Rajah, Charles Brooke, and opened in 1891. I especially recommend the Art and the Islamic museums.

The Islamic museum, with its many rooms around two small grassed courtyards, was interesting. I was fascinated by a huge circular, framed calligraphy made of chicken feathers. Many of the tiles on display are stunning and range from the 13th century onwards, and are mostly based on vegetable and naturalistic motifs. A few have human or animal motifs and the notice beside them states: 'This proves the instruction [by the Prophet Mohammed] not to use figural motifs in art has not been fully adhered to by Muslim potters.'

I noted an Arabic quote which reminded us that 'A wise man sometimes changes his mind, but a fool never.' Something I also need to remind myself is to record where I read or hear things more often: my lack of discipline is a major difference between someone like me and a trained journalist.

Somewhere, in a museum, newspaper, or conversation, I also learnt about something called the 'Sarawak Law' which I'd not previously heard of. Alfred Russel Wallace was a British naturalist and biologist known for independently conceiving the theory of evolution through natural selection. He believed this natural selection was very clear in Sarawak Borneo and his paper on the subject was published with some of Darwin's writings in 1858 - leading Darwin to later publish his own ideas a year later in the Origin of Species.

In his book, The Malay Archipelago, 1869, Wallace also wrote: 'The Rajah held Sarawak solely by the goodwill of the inhabitants. Rajah Brooke was a great, a wise, and a good ruler - a true and faithful friend - admired for his talents, respected for his honesty and courage, and loved for his generosity, his kindness of disposition and his tenderness of heart.' Quite a recommendation and as I said earlier, a film about the White Rajah will be most interesting and I'll be watching out for it.

New Zealanders pop up everywhere and earlier, at the Rainforest Music Festival, I'd met Heidi Munan, a Swiss-born Kiwi who married a Sarawakian after they met at a New Zealand university. 'I had no idea where this handsome man came from, somewhere I'd never heard of - he took me upstairs to the library and showed me Sarawak on the map. And here I am.' They married in 1965 - in Sarawak - and have been there ever since.

Supporting local crafts can be one of the positive outcomes of mass tourism and can improve lifestyles and redistribute wealth and Heidi is now an expert in the crafts of Sarawak, especially beads, for which she is the Curator at the Sarawak Museum. She's also written many books and articles on the ethnic groups and local cultures of Borneo as well as 'Culture Shock, Borneo.'

When I met Heidi at the festival she was running a craft stall, along with her son Brangka, (an agricultural scientist) and his Kiwi wife, Pip. They had just moved from their Otago (NZ) farm to live and work in Sarawak for three years with their young family. Brangka will no doubt be using his farming knowledge while Pip, accustomed to sorting her rubbish and recycling for collection at home, was surprised at what she thought was a low level of recycling in the state and was hoping to work in that area.

Aluminium cans are being recycled by restaurants (and at the festival) but I saw no public collection points - I'm sure with the size of the population here, recycling many waste products would be of financial, ecological and touristic value. Most tourists are used to being able to put cans, paper, plastic and glass into recycling bins and become frustrated when unable to do so. With some 40 million plus visitors annually (70% are international) it's a lot of people, many of whom would be happy to help keep East Malaysia clear of their recyclable rubbish if it was made easy for them.

I was not sure how many people travelled in this region as part of a tour, but many do arrive in cruise ships or, as I saw in Sabah, fly in to resorts and rarely leave or travel independently. Being a backpacker is a state of mind rather than of our accommodation or luggage choices and I belong on one side of the great divide in the world of travel snobbery - traveller or tourist? The often quoted old saying is that 'tourists know where they are going, but don't know where they have been, while travellers know where they have been but don't know where they are going'. Whether that's true or not, friends who stay in hotels are horrified at the idea of sleeping on a rooftop in Jerusalem with 29 others, or in a converted chapel in Dublin, or any of the other shared places I've slept in. I, on the other hand, cannot imagine spending any more than a few nights in an anonymous, large or luxurious hotel.

Other friends hate to leave home without knowing where they will sleep, what tours have been booked, what times their transport will leave and where they are going. They think I am crazy, or courageous, to have no idea where I'm going, where I'm staying and what I'll see. This is, for me, the difference between a traveller and a tourist, characterised by the freedom and luxury of time, and of course, attitude.

But, if you only have two, three, or four weeks to enjoy an annual holiday, or this is your one chance to visit Europe, China, or South America, and it is important for you see all you can, join a tour. Often this is the one way to fit in the top sites on your list, just try to ensure you are not in a cultural quarantine and return home untouched by contact with locals.

As a nomadic wanderer, I often miss many of the 'must see' tourist places but can leave a country having been to a wedding; had a long coffee and meal with a local, and nameless, school teacher; taught swimming to a group of young Thai boys, and on another occasion, spent three weeks on an island cleaning up a marine-reserve after a monsoon. Am I the only person who went to New York and merely stood at the bottom of the Twin Towers?

Conversely, I don't know any 'tourist' who has volunteered their time in a soup kitchen in the middle of a New York blizzard, but travellers often do things like that - I have, and did. The snobbery is evident on both sides of the fence: 'I can afford to stay somewhere clean and civilised' versus 'I can afford the time to spend a long time travelling'. Different strokes for different folks as they say, whoever 'they' are.

Larry Krotz (Tourism, 1996) says travel, or going somewhere as a tourist, has become something we do in order to share our culture - like going to an annual sports or cultural event. He discusses the shift over 150 years, from travel for education and knowledge to the enjoyment factor of today, as something everyone does.

He continued: 'Of all the phenomena that have become part of life and our world in the last fifty years: nuclear power, television, computers, and recreational sex, mass travel in the final analysis will be the one that will most change the world. What are the implications of so much travel? Which of them are good? Which are not so good? In the interactions between visitor and the visited, what is exchanged? Can the world sustain so much tourism?'

If, as he says, mass travel will most change the world, it means we travellers have a responsibility to tread as lightly as possible wherever we go - after all, it's other people's homes and backyards that we're treading on.

The ability to travel en-masse as it became cheaper and faster was captured by Thomas Cook in the mid-19th century. If you want to know about the selfishness of people like me who get off the beaten track and then often don't want you to discover it too; if you want to know about the effects of tourists or travellers on the country we travel in, I recommend the whole section on tourism in your library. I find it full of enthralling topics - especially about the conveyer belt tourism has become; how we are products to be seduced, fed, watered, displayed, and then returned home. Sometimes I wonder how I can travel knowing all I've read.

But travel I do, and when I finally left the enjoyable city of Kuching, home of the Kek Lapis, a fabulous layer cake with a high egg content and cooked layer by millimetre layer which is served at all celebrations and which tourists from Asia buy as gifts, I headed north by local bus.

## Bintulu beckons

This city had no western tourists that I saw. I located the night-market for dinner on the first night and young men and women greeted me, 'Good morning Auntie, how are you?' The lunch menu seemed different from meals I had had so far, no-one spoke English, so I pointed to a table covered with shells - I decided to have what they were having.

I sat for an hour eating noodles and prawns, and people-watching. A woman, a grandmother, or maybe a great-grandmother, at the next table had tattoos all over her forearm and down each finger. I had been told they were an Iban sign that she has killed, and I wished I could communicate with her. Her pierced earlobes hung about 7 cm (3 inches) and with a wonderfully lined face she was very photogenic, but I didn't feel comfortable about taking a picture. Sometimes images are best as memories.

Hairdressers are practical and eco-friendly, as outside their shops towels were drying in the sun. Young people called across the street to me, 'hello auntie'. It felt welcoming. I also heard songbirds everywhere, while roosters and dogs ran free on the streets, and I sat on the riverbank and watched barges of logs that were being towed downriver.

Bintulu is proud that Sarawak's first State Legislative Assembly met here. The tall Council Negeri Memorial in the town centre commemorates the event and a plaque states, 'Council Negeri is the oldest legislative and the biggest fully elected Assembly in Malaysia. On this site, the Assembly was established and its first inaugural meeting was held on 8th September, 1867. The Second Rajah of the Brooke Government, Charles Brooke and five British officers and 16 Malay and Melanau community leaders in the state attended the meeting'.

Malaysia has a constitutional monarchy, a parliamentary democracy which is unique. Here the legal throne is not inherited by heirs and the post of head of state rotates among the nine hereditary Malay Rulers and since independence from Britain (31st August 1957) the country has been governed by an alliance-coalition. As well as the Federal Government of two houses, each state has its own state administration with the Chief Minister being the head of the Administration and Government. Like New Zealand, Malaysia is totally independent while they, and 51 other counties, remain members of the British Commonwealth.

Next day I decided to go to the zoo. Car-pooling seemed common here and vehicles stopped just past my bus stop and the drivers called out their destination. I was not sure how far my target was so I waited. Later the bus driver stopped and pointed up the hill. I assumed he was saying the zoo was up there.

This trip had been against my better judgment, but having only seen one hornbill in Borneo I had decided to visit the zoological and botanical gardens as the brochures said they have a walk-through aviary. One reference to it even mentioned a walk-through hornbill aviary (although not the facilities flyer) so my expectations were high.

As you will know, expectations set you up for disappointment: this one did not fail. There was no walk-through aviary but a path which led through some bush and trees and, using their criteria, the world is an aviary which it patently is not. However, like TV advertisements often say, but wait, there's more.

The setting was lovely, the plants great, but conditions for the creatures were not good. Maybe I over-reacted but my concerns were: the birds of prey did not seem to have enough room, the crocodiles could not lie in the water without their tails being curved, and the beautiful hornbills were in cages, mostly single birds and did not seem happy. I didn't explore any further so have no idea about the tigers. I know it's not easy to have a good zoo, but that one needs more space given to some by reducing the varieties of the birds of prey so that each have more room. I left written feedback in the suggestion box, along with my travel-writer's card but never heard from them.

Knowing the system, and an easy destination, I caught a private car back to the city, and at the night market, I again found my Kiwi-accented Bahasa Malay was not understood. Though, wherever I am in the world, I always end up with a full tummy while giving locals something to smile about as I try their language. The next day I bussed to Miri and, after seeing no travellers for days, that bus had about twenty English-speaking European youths on it, perhaps on a gap-year adventure. Despite not speaking to anyone in English since I left Kuching, I sat silently and watched the scenery.

After two days of desultory looking around Miri and feeling miserable with a head-cold, I caught a taxi to the airport. I was heading to Sabah, landing in its capital Kota Kinabalu. My taxi driver was sniffing and snorting too, he overtook vehicles on a single lane, and when at traffic lights he tended to unwanted chin and neck hair with tweezers.

## KK

KK, as the locals call it, was a very different Asian city. The first restaurant I came to was Mexican, the next Mediterranean and across the road an upmarket coffee shop - a good city to start in if you're a first time visitor to Asia. I was staying in the city centre which has smooth footpaths and a modern feel - with an Asian twist.

Of course what you notice, or write, about travel is as much about the place and maybe even more about you, or rather me, as the writer. I travel for the differences, but often can forget that, just like at home in New Zealand, locals here like to go out for a meal of something different, some ethnic food, so of course KK had Mexican, pasta and pizza places. I saved those cuisines for my return home as when travelling I want local food.

This city was a growing resort destination due to its proximity to tropical islands, lush rainforests and Mount Kinabalu. Incidentally, an island off the coast there was the site for the very first USA TV show Survivor Borneo in 2000, and it was also on a Malaysian Island, Pangkor Laut, that Pavarotti said, 'I almost cried when I saw how beautiful God made this paradise.'

With my sparse notes I tried to follow the advice of Amy's father in Little Women, 'remember correctly and describe all you see and admire' but sometime it's hard to shake off preconceived ideas or prejudices. Chris Else, a NZ writer said in a book review, 'A good travel writer is a kind of a ghost, someone who passes through a place and leaves it undisturbed. You must respond with all the sensitivity you can muster, but you must not react in a way that is too intrusive. You may show concern but you must remain uncommitted'. I'm still not convinced.

Although there are many advantages to travelling alone, especially as a 'ghostly' travel writer, there are disadvantages, and during my first night in KK I was envious of groups of Asians around tables covered with numerous dishes and I was jealous of their fellowship and the many choices they had - not something a solo-traveller can do easily. See my blog for  tips and warnings about travelling alone.

Gaya Street was Sabah in miniature. Closed to traffic for the weekly Sunday market it was fabulous for people-watching and I noticed most locals were carrying bags with recycling messages on them. From pearls to papaya, cowboy hats to coconuts, steam buns to kittens, rabbits, cats, dogs and turtles, this market had it all. Of course it also had fresh fish to gold fish, garden plants to hand-knitted baby booties, fresh locally grown coffee beans, and blind masseurs. I went three times in the month I used KK as my base, it was fabulous, full of fun, noise and everything you want but perhaps nothing you need. Once again, for me, there's nothing like sitting down, a freshly made steamed bun and coffee beside you, just relaxing and watching.

On the last day of the fasting month, Ramadan, a big day in the Islamic calendar, nearly all the shops were closed. I spent time in a Chinese, non-halal restaurant, sharing a table with two men. One interpreted for the other, a man of about eighty who told of, and showed photos of, his hunting prowess some years ago. Circular boar's tusks and teeth as well as other traditional medicine items I didn't understand. Seemed he lived two hours past Mount Kinabalu and then two hours up river, so it must be wild country. It was these chance encounters which made solo travel so rewarding because if I had been there with another person, I'm not sure they would have asked to share my table.

Borneo is often criticised for not caring about the environment or protecting its wild life. The BBC Earth-Lonely Planet in their Travellers Guide to Planet Earth says of Borneo, 'Despite well documented problems with deforestation, you'll still find incredible opportunities for striking out into truly primal and untamed expanses of jungle, some unchanged for millions of years. Here lurk orang-utans, endangered rhinos, elephants, clouded leopards, flying lemurs [colugo] and carnivorous pitcher plants.' (p.227) and amazingly, I saw them all \- no wonder I felt I was living the dream!

Birders love this land too and the KK City Bird Sanctuary and Wetlands is only 2kms from the city centre. On my first visit I emerged an abject failure as birder. I could hear many of the eighty species there, but saw few. Seems I'm more of a social birder, requiring big slow birds to watch. It was high tide so not a good time to view birds among the mangroves - well, that was my excuse. Returning two weeks later I saw many birds, including a couple of my favourites from the bigger, slower, and easier to spot, flock of feathered creatures.

Using the state capital Kota Kinabalu as my base was a good idea. I stayed at a small hotel for a week then moved to a hospitable backpacker lodge in the same low-cost accommodation zone. Nicknamed Australia Place about seventy years ago, it was the site of the Australian army camp at the end of World War II when they helped liberate the area \- something I knew nothing about.

It was not paradise when this city, then called Jesselton and built mostly on reclaimed land overlooking the South China Sea, was levelled as part of the Borneo Campaign. During 1945 Allied forces bombed the city day and night for over six months, leaving only three buildings standing. The war in North Borneo ended with the official surrender of the Japanese 37th Army in September 1945.

Tucked into the hillside and safe from bombing is the Atkinson Clock Tower, beside Australia Place, site of old timber Chinese shops and where the Australian liberation army camped when they landed in 1945. I stayed in one of these old buildings, above a coffee shop called Museum Kopitiam which serves a good cup of coffee and makes traditional ANZAC biscuits (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps). Incidentally, both Australia and New Zealand claim to have been the first to make these sweet oat biscuits for their soldiers and many myths have grown up around them.

Borneo Backpackers, my new accommodation, was once the Chung Nam Printing Press for the Jesselton Api Siang Pau newspaper. Built in 1954, it was one of the first concrete structures built after the war. Close to the clock-tower and the site where the old railway station once stood, the building is painted in the colours of the railcars which ran from here, cream, brown and green, a nice nod to the past.

Another Koto Kinabalu building not razed is the beautiful visitor information centre which is well worth a visit even if you don't need material for your travels. It was just a building away from my regular breakfast shop, a cafeteria-style place which was always full of locals, and the occasional tourist like me. Other travellers, eating western food in their hotel, didn't know what great local foods and bakery items they were missing out on.

Kota Kinabalu (population around 500,000) gained city status in 2000 and visitors and locals all promenade the waterfront nightly, watching the sunset or eating at the fabulous outdoor fish restaurants. With a uniform year-round temperature of 32°C (avg. high) and 22°C (avg. low) it's always a pleasant temperature. I used my umbrella as a sunshade nearly every day and only once or twice for rain.

Another Kinabalu I visited, regrettably only for a day (so it's back on my Malaysian Borneo travel bucket list) was the national park and mountain of the same name. It's still growing at 5mm a year - so get there fast before you have further to climb, not that I intended to clamber up it then, or in the future.

A UNESCO World Heritage site (2000) this mountain is the highest peak in the Crocker Range which is Borneo's backbone and its granite top is 4095 metres high. Its tribal name is Aki Nabalu which translates as Revered Ancestor. Our guide for the day, one of the Dusun (local) tribe, told us legends of the mountain such as one that means 'Spirits will follow you forever if you do something wrong' to, or on, the sacred mountain. She also told of an annual sacrifice performed for their revered ancestor in which seven white eggs, two white chickens , and seven pieces of wood and seven pieces of peat are given to the 'revered abode of the dead'. Local tribes believe spirits of their ancestors inhabit the top of the mountain. Previously a chicken was sacrificed at the peak every time a climb was made. Now, just this one ritual sacrifice happens each year to protect all climbers and their guides during the upcoming climbing season. As so many climb it annually this seems a pragmatic, ecological compromise.

The park headquarters is at 1500 metres above sea level and I took a short guided walk from there; this day trip was not eco-friendly. It took a two hour trip and we stayed for a very short time before going to the nearby Poring thermal springs. On a 30+ degree day, hot pools did not appeal to me but people who had mountain-goated their way up the mountain (usually over two or three days) were happily soaking their aching muscles in the therapeutic waters.

## Racing heartbeats and big bellies

Despite my experience and fear in Sarawak, in Poring I found myself paying entry fees for both my camera and me, to traverse yet another swing bridge. Divided into three sections by the huge trees it's anchored to, it was not so wobbly, but at some eight-storeys high (40+ metres) and 175 metres long, the Poring Canopy Walkway was still scary for a wimp like me. My heart was still beating faster than normal on my return to the hot pools, where I saw my guide who told me some news and it rose again: that time with excitement not fear.

Although the rafflesia flower was on my Borneo bucket-list, I knew there was no guarantee I'd see one. I could have seen one in Sarawak but with a booking to go to Bako National Park, I'd ignored the forestry announcement about the flower, especially when I heard it was a good two-hour hike to get to it.

The rafflesia is not something you can grow in your garden, unless your garden is a tropical rainforest in Malaysia, Sumatra, Thailand or the Philippines, or of course, on Borneo. It also needs to be near the Tetra Stigma vine which, as a parasitic plant, it attaches itself to. I didn't know all this, I just knew I'd seen photos of it, and heard Sir David Attenborough talk in awe of it during his Borneo adventures. And, let's face it, this is an awe-inspiring island.

So it was here in Sabah, on a day trip to Kinabalu National Park and Poring Hot Springs, that  I was able to see a bloom, and while others were in the pools, I went on private side trip, through a local tribe's orchard, past durian, star-fruit, ginger, and more of my favourite fruits to arrive at a crudely formed path down a bank to the fenced-in, protected plant.

This is the world's largest bloom, although not really a bloom and it has no stems, leaves or true roots. Weighing up to 10kg, it takes eight months from bud to maturity on the forest floor. Naturally not all flower as wild animals can damage them before they are noticed. It's the official flower of the state, was first discovered in 1818, and was named after Sir Thomas Raffles, best known for founding Singapore.

Sometimes called the corpse flower because of its smell (although I wasn't aware of an odour) it attracts the carrion fly and has never been grown away from its natural environment. I was thrilled to see it and would have stayed longer admiring it but knew my fellow-travellers would be waiting for the mini-van soon so I left after I'd mentally added it to my ever-growing, next-time bucket-list. As that bloom was on tribal lands it meant the fee I paid went directly to them, not the tour company, which of course is one of the ways to be an eco-traveller: leave as much money as possible in the communities you visit.

A day or two later I took another trip. It was south to the site of the noisy, diesel-fumed, boats that I opened this memoir-essay with, while wondering if it was mass tourism at its worst there at the Klias River Wetland, a class 1 forest reserve.

Numerous tourists had travelled there in hope of seeing the wonderful, strange and endangered proboscis monkeys. Nicknamed the Dutch monkey, it seems the locals had thought the first settlers, from Holland, had large noses and big bellies like the proboscis.

When I saw them in Bako National Park, Sarawak, I could hear them grunting and crashing in the high canopy before seeing them. Here that was not possible as the boats were so noisy, and when our boatman saw one, or another boat stopped, we too stopped and watched them.

These 20-plus kilo monkeys are endemic to Borneo, never straying far from the island's rivers, coastal mangroves, and swamps. Someone in the boat said these primates have a very narrow corridor of trees to live in, as just a short distance from the river were oil plantations on drained, deforested, peat lands. I had no way of knowing the truth of the statement, which had been told to me by both locals and tourists. True or not, there is no doubt clearing the forests for timber, settlement, or oil palm plantations have depleted huge tracts of their habitat and their populations have nose-dived.

Going by the negative feedback on sites such as TripAdvisor this particular tour is a prime example of the fable about killing the goose that lays the golden egg. People have posted comments such as 'Very sad. Boats roaring around. Too many people. We called it ecotourism on steroids'; 'I do not recommend this tour at all'; 'The river is dirty and packed with boats'; 'If a monkey is spotted, half a dozen speedboats roar over to the spot, spewing diesel exhaust everywhere. The monkey is usually at least 50 meters away and can barely be seen without binoculars, but the tourists chatter excitedly and rush to the side of the boat to take pictures. Then after about 2 minutes of this, the boats roar off to find the next monkey. Repeat about 10 times.'

Of course this type of thing happens all over the world. Buses arrive in droves disgorging visitors and fumes so they can see wonderful pristine, or historic, sights. It reminds me of Lake Louise in Banff, Canada, where I too was disgorged from a bus to see the great views. I have proof I was there - a photo of me sitting alone, with the lake and mountains as the backdrop - it looks idyllic. However I know, beside me, waiting for their turn to have the moment recorded, was the next busload of chattering travellers. Pictures don't always tell the truth.

The problems of being poured into these tourist funnels will continue if we rely on unimaginative travel agents (and of course not all are) and the forceful marketing of those who have invested their business money into an area. While it is more economical for planes and hotels to have us arrive together and stay in the same places it also creates problems for them - not the least, the chance of killing the goose and its golden egg.

## Spending your dollars

My next trip, in a local mini-bus, was to Kota Belud for what I'd been told is Sabah's most vibrant market, and therefore a culturally rich photographic opportunity. The local cowboys and regular buffalo auction were not there but the French woman and I had enjoyed walking from the small town, asking for directions, and soon finding the market. We bought and sampled food and discussed a holiday road safety campaign with officials who were running it. The tamu (market) had everything from knives, traditional herbal medicines, seaweeds, orchids, handmade brooms, baskets and hats, as well as fruit and vegetables.

I saw more culture at the Mari Mari Cultural village near KK - locals had all recommended I go, telling me to go to the dinner show at night. As we walked through the replica village in small groups, the five local tribes introduced us to their way of life including blowpipes, tattoos and food. In the famously feared headhunting tribes (Murut) longhouse is an amazing indoor trampoline, the lansaran. After a demonstration on the trampoline-like floor some of our group jumped to reach for the prize hanging from the roof - I didn't try. Other tribes were the rice farming Kadazan-Dusun, the longhouse Rungus, the hunters and fishermen Lundayeh, the cowboys and sea gypsies Bajau. The tour culminated in a concert and buffet style dinner and, in good eco-tourism style, every dollar spent here stayed here, helping the local people preserve the traditions of their ancestors.

Many cultural shows around the world can be superficial, staged authenticity designed to entertain rather than enlighten, but this was locally-driven, and it's always the locals who need to decide what they want to share with the world and how to present it. Unfortunately many still create a Disneyesque version of themselves despite most travellers wanting authenticity - Mari Mari is not in that category.

Later, still in the home of Sabah's most traditional people the Rungus, I headed further north, three hours by public transport, to Kudat, for a couple of nights at Tommy's Place at the tip of Borneo to spend time on the beach - my first time since I was at Sarawak's Damai Beach Resort with its colourful sunsets.

Although it's advertised as basic accommodation I stayed in one of their excellent villas, on the rise behind the restaurant and the simpler rooms. The food too is unassuming which is exactly what's needed at the beach, and they are proud of their eco-credentials which concentrate on water conservation and energy reduction. Tommy said they were hoping others could see what they were doing and follow suit. In addition to having chlorine-free water, which uses lots of energy to transport it, they have also reduced their water energy down to zero by using rainwater collected in two huge tanks.

One disadvantage this small resort has is its position on the long curved beach: the wind and currents can deposit rubbish right on the beach in front of their accommodation. Of course it was this same wind which had encouraged Tommy, a keen windsurfer, to build some units there - naturally he has surfboards, windsurfers, and canoes for hire.

I told the desk staff I would help with a beach clean-up if they arranged one and the next morning they were waiting for me with bags and rakes ready. Although proud of a certificate for cleaning the beach which is displayed on their wall, it seems they rarely clean the beach. We removed about four large bags of food wrappers, lollipop sticks, plastic, straws, butter containers and lids and the ever present water bottles. The bags were put on the back of their truck but I wondered where they would end up. Rubbish removal and disposal can be difficult in small, remote places and the same rubbish can too often be found in the sea again in a short time. I suggested they, and all beach-fronted resorts, needed to have clean-ups like this often as guests will always see the trash but don't see the water savings the locals are proud of.

Bizarrely, the young, unofficial manager had never been on the ten minute walk to the well-named Tip of Borneo, the draw card of the area. I went there twice, enjoying the birds and monitor lizards on the way. A snake slid off the warm pathway once and I returned to the spot three or four times to see if I could photograph it, with no luck. The tip has a large globe and flagpole, as well as the stunning scenery at the true top of this huge island. The British gave the area the romantic name of 'The Parting of the Pirate Ways' but I didn't see any pirates as I sat and watched the swirling tides of the South China Sea collide with the Sulu Sea, creating a dramatic headland carved into the stone cliffs.

Water usage is a huge issue in tourist destinations worldwide. I remember residents in Kaikoura, NZ's Serengeti of the sea, being resentful of tourists using excess water during a drought. There is no doubt about it, we travellers put huge pressure on waste systems, and when on holiday many appear to be less concerned about their consumption of services than when at home. Many have long showers, as well as leaving air-conditioning and lights on when not needed. In hotels the use of plastic card-keys to control electricity usage is a good way of reducing our wastage - although I have a friend who cheats the eco-system. Twice I even saw men dry their underwear with hair driers, and of course numerous people cleaning their teeth while water continued to flow down the drain - clearly not eco-travellers.

With the seemingly relentless growth in mass tourism, the tourism industry, locally and internationally, needs to promote places and sustainable activities which have positive impacts, while also discouraging the harmful. How to mitigate the negative impact of tourism while encouraging it is a dilemma: true eco-tourism seems to be the best option for most, but no one can agree on an international standard.

While many think of tourists as overseas travellers, any night away from home makes us all travellers or tourists. This means we have an impact on the environment whether it's a hundred kilometres away or on the other side of the world, and someone has to pay for the roads and remove our rubbish. Unfortunately some people litter their own back yards so will never be responsible tourists.

## Off to Brunei

Back in Kota Kinabalu for a night's rest I put a change of clothes in my day bag as I was off to the Kingdom of Brunei for four days. The Sultan's Palace is only open on three days a year - his birthday and after Ramadan - which was perfect timing for this trip, and I travelled by ferry with an hour stop-over on the Malaysian duty-free island of Labuan.

The ferry was freezing. Locals had obviously expected it and, in the middle of the tropics, some six degrees north of the equator, they put on hats, cardigans, jackets or hoodies while I put on another cotton top and used my sarong as a blanket. I overheard someone say that it was cold enough to keep meat chilled for two weeks. The contrast between trains, shops, museums, hotels, and the outside temperature is a constant puzzle to those of us who do not live in tropical regions. I'm sure all Asian countries could reduce their national (or personal) debt by turning thermostats up a few degrees, and it would also help with the green or eco-credentials of the countries.

I usually acclimatise quicker by accepting the temperatures as soon as I can \- just as a huge percentage of the area's population do in their homes. Sometimes though it's great to get relief from the heat, and I always use an umbrella which reduces the temperature amazingly and also help stops sunburn for a redhead of Scottish ancestry.

The nation of Negara Brunei Darussalam (Abode of Peace) is an oil-rich country of under half a million people. It joined the British Commonwealth in 1984 and has twice the per capita income of New Zealand. Half its population are not Bruneians but workers from other countries, many of whom work in the oil fields, construction, or as domestics. As it was the end of the Islamic fasting month of Ramadan, many places were closed for the Hari Raya holiday.

Taxi and bus-drivers who usually meet the boats were also on holiday. The temperature had plummeted dramatically and we all were very cold as we waited over two hours for an apparently non-existent bus. I attached myself to an Australian couple who had rung their hotel and insisted a taxi was sent the 35 km to the port for them. They dropped me off on the way after an unpleasant day and I was grateful for the lift.

Still on my to-see list were the elusive hornbills and bigger pitcher plants than the tiny ones I'd seen in Bako NP and on the roadside near Batang Ai. Over breakfast I invited a French woman to join me for walk to a local park but delightfully declined and told me she was 'not much of a wild person'. I saw more small pitchers, lots of people exercising, but no hornbills. Using the little hotel as a holiday from my holiday, I caught up on sleep, reading, and photographing tiny crimson sunbirds that, like me, hung out in the pool garden.

Up early the next morning I walked into the city to find transport to the palace, but the first bus I was shown was not the right one and the ticket seller on board pointed to the correct one. I was the only woman on board; the men appeared to be migrant workers from Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, or India. The first open day is to welcome members of the government, while on the second day the king and members of the royal family welcome their officials, citizens and, on that occasion, me.

The palace, the Istana Nurul Iman, is at 200,000 square metres the world's largest palace. It sits on a man-made hill with a clear view of Kampong Ayer, and I began to follow the stream of people heading up the hill. An official approached me and asked where I was from. I admitted to being a New Zealander and he then asked me to step aside to wait. Confused but not concerned, I waited as directed and soon a small minivan arrived and I was shepherded into it with a few other 'old' people to be driven up the hill - I was not sure whether to be pleased or insulted.

After being 'registered' I joined the queue to meet the royal family. It was the second day of Eid al-Fitr, and there were two lines, male and female, and many of the men held up smart-phones, recording the sights as we edged forward. We were in a huge reception area and apparently we were to be fed before we reached our goal. Dinner plates, white and embossed with a gold stamp of royalty, were handed to each of us and we worked our way down the various food stations: it was a banquet! I got half-serves so I could try nearly everything but many others had bulging plates.

I joined a table of mostly women - although families and friends were no longer segregated by gender. Everyone wanted to know where I was from, and although I had my best travel clothes on, a couple of women suggested I buy local clothes so I 'look good'. Everyone is wearing their best, and I later heard that locals believe meeting members of the royal family will bring luck to their households.

After my photo was taken numerous times, mostly with groups of young women, it was time to join yet another very slow moving line to meet the sultan. Again separated, it appeared that the men would meet the sultan while the women would meet Her Majesty Raja Isteri Pengiran Anak Hajah Saleha.

Research later informed me that the palace has 1,788 rooms, 257 bathrooms, 5 swimming pools and an air-conditioned stable for the sultan's 200 polo ponies. Add a 110-car garage, a banquet hall for up to 4,000 guests and a mosque for 1,500 people. This all requires some 564 chandeliers, 51,000 light bulbs, 44 stairwells, and 18 elevators. The palace, completed in 1984, is replete with golden domes and vaulted roofs and was designed to echo Brunei's twin influences of Islam and the Malay culture.

I was hoping to see much of that bling but visitors are confined to less decorative, but still ornate, public areas and I took photos as we gradually edged towards the separate rooms where the royal family were waiting. Photos had been permitted for the past three or four hours, but once close to our target, my small daypack and camera were taken from me while others were told to hang their handbags on their left shoulder. The once shuffling line sped up and within moments I had my hand taken by a woman who continued her conversation with a woman behind her. The next in line was the sultana, or queen consort.

'Hello, where are you from?' she asked and I told her. She replied: 'Lovely. I've been to New Zealand. I'm pleased to meet you.' I'd hardly answered before being moved along: they have about 100,000 visitors to greet over the three days. As we left the room, each of us was given a gift. This year it was a tin containing a cake and a card with the royal seal while all children were given BND5 as 'lucky money'. Leaving the palace building I saw a western man turned away - shorts and jandels (flip-flops) are unacceptable in royal homes. Back at the hotel I put the card in my bag, photographed the tin, and then give it and its contents to a housemaid who was unable visit the palace.

## Sabah's east coast calls me

Two days later, after retracing my route, I was back in Malaysia where, at Borneo Backpackers I again re-arranged my luggage, left most behind, and flew to the much-talked about east coast of Sabah. Like most travellers here I ignored the over-conservative travel warnings many western countries had on their websites.

Views of the South China Sea, before the plane headed east, confirmed how busy that stretch of water is. It's a vital artery in the world's shipping lanes with about a third of all ships passing through it. Later views of oil plantations disturbed me if the information I'd heard was correct. I'd been told twenty metres of forest was required to be left alongside rivers as vital corridors for animals but apparently it didn't always happen, so I wondered how effective the law, if it was a law, was or how it's monitored. I read that the Swedish company, Ikea, continues to help conserve a forest reserve in Kalabakan, near Tawau. It was once a severely degraded area and over the past fifteen years had been replanted with almost two million native tree seedlings. It is activities like that, plus the tourist dollar and local funding, which provides the essential life-support for the wildlife that people come to Borneo to see.

On the east coast as well as attending the Sandakan Death March Service and visiting the Sepilok Orang-utan Rehabilitation Centre, Labuk Bay, primal rain forests, and rivers were also on my checklist.

The Semenggoh Nature Reserve near Kuching and the Sepilok orang-utans seem to be on everyone's bucket-list even if they think they'll never get somewhere as exotic as Borneo. I stayed at the wonderful Sepilok Jungle Resort where I received some of the best, most efficient service of any accommodation places in the region. I also noticed how solicitous they were with a young girl who had just arrived with infected insect bites, and arranged for a car to take her and a parent to a doctor. A family-run business, which started in 1991, they planted all the trees in the lush, landscaped gardens and it was a peaceful place to stay - I also saw my first hornbills there. With raised walkways connecting accommodation, pool, Jacuzzi, reception and café, it was also excellent for bird spotting and is only a five-minute walk from the popular rehabilitation centre which is open twice daily. This was one of the few places where admission prices were the same for both Malay and non-Malay.

When I first started travelling in places with different price scales (e.g. European hostels regarding ages and in Africa for activities) I'd thought them unfair. I knew what a tight budget I was travelling on and how long it had taken to save for my trip and I'd not given any thought to the locals who may also want to experience the same thing but couldn't pay what I paid. I no longer think it is wrong, but an Australian couple I met on these travels were furious about it. They considered it to be a shakedown on travellers, a rip-off. In New Zealand the only place I know with two price systems is at the Treaty House in Waitangi. That is where, in 1840, the treaty was signed between the British Crown and the indigenous Maori and this, the birthplace of our nation, is free for all New Zealanders.

Interestingly while at Sepilok, I overheard people saying they would pay much more to go there, which is fine for our western bank accounts but not for many locals. I believe it is great locals visit as it's these very families who will save the forests the animal's need, as they cannot be saved by the western or tourist dollar alone - even though those dollars are essential. If tourists are happy to pay more I suggest they make a donation or adopt some of the orphans.

Sepilok staff reminded us to keep our noise to a minimum, to keep our belongings safe from the acquisitive macaques and, after we'd wiped our feet on a disinfectant-drenched mat to reduce contamination of their space, we continued on to the platform area. This was where orang-utans who had graduated from the nursery go. Having learnt their essential skills, this outdoor nursery was where these young wild men of Borneo were learning jungle skills, and where they are fed supplements of fruit and milk. The aim of the centre is to help them become independent and integrated into the wild population.

A  UK charity continues to identify and provide Sepilok with extras such as a Landrover to carry out rescues, and refurbishing the indoor nursery and quarantine wards. They also have an adopt-an-orphan scheme. This endangered ape is one of our closest cousins, and sadly it's been suggested these gentle animals will face extinction in the wild within our lifetime.

More history I didn't know about, perhaps as no New Zealanders were in involved, were the Sandakan Death Marches - a series of forced marches in Borneo from Sandakan to Ranau. On leaving the resort, I learnt even more when I attended the annual (15th August) Sandakan Memorial day event to remember those fallen men of the Australian and British prisoners-of-war, and locals, who had endured the notorious death marches.

Australian and British POWs, captured by the Japanese during the Battle of Singapore in 1942, were shipped to North Borneo in order to construct a military airstrip and their own prisoner-of-war camps at Sandakan. As with the well-known Burma death railway, prisoners here were also forced to work and were often beaten and received very little food or medical attention. By the end of the war only one British, and five Australian soldiers survived, all of whom had escaped. It's considered to be the single worst atrocity suffered by Australian servicemen during the Second World War and every year many Australians attend this emotional day and follow in the footsteps of heroes.

The War Memorial and Gardens of Remembrance were built at Kundasang, Sabah, in 1962 to commemorate those who had died in what seems to be a forgotten chapter of history. Local people, who also suffered or died, were remembered and thanked for their support to the prisoner and escapees. The Australian High Commissioner said 'This debt can never be repaid. Thank you from a grateful nation,' while the British High Commissioner said he was there to pay respects to the bravery of the 641 Brits who had died, that it was a reminder of the 'brutal story of man's inhumanity to man'. For more, and photos, about the event, see  my WordPress blog.

After leaving the war memorial for Melapi (Proboscis) Lodge my driver had pointed out things of interest to me. This included an area which used to be a swampy mangrove and sadly was now covered with apartments for displaced water villagers. We also passed a huge water village which he said causes big problems with power and sewerage. After picking up groceries and fish, we left for one of the jewels in the crown of Sabah's nature and eco-tourism, the Lower Kinabatangan River, home to the highest concentration of wildlife in Southeast Asia.

As the hornbill flies it's not far across the huge bay, off the Sulu Sea, to Melapi, but we travelled by road. I assumed that the road, built about 2005, was provided for, or by, palm oil companies but no, it was tourism-driven. I also learnt from my driver that in Malaysia, foreign companies can only own 30% of any business. Many New Zealanders would love to have a similar law in our country where the current National government seems to think that as long as they retain 51% of an enterprise, they still have control.

The clearing of the rainforest during the 1880s through to 1930 was driven by the need for timber, plus the Dutch clearing land for tobacco, and the Japanese planting coconut and jute plantations. Logging in Borneo in the 1980s and 1990s was some of the most intensive ever seen, including some by an Australian who cleared land for sugar and exported the valuable hardwood timber that he'd felled. (Kinabatangan by Wendy Hutton, 2004)

Since then, the group Partners of Wetlands was set up in 1998 and was designed to co-ordinate wetland management, conservation and restoration by everyone, from villagers to scientists, plantation owners, tourism providers and the government working together. It's a big job and I hope their sustainable management works. It's times like these that I hope my few tourist dollars do trickle down and help support their projects. Unfortunately the so-called trickle-down effect has long been exposed as a flawed system, so I'm pleased I spend most of my travel dollars at the lowest levels.

Whatever definition for the term 'sustainable tourism' is used, it must meet the needs and expectations of locals and tourists. The host, while protecting the area for the future and maintaining cultural integrity and ecological diversity, must accommodate those contrasting expectations. It's never an easy balance and currently Australia and South Africa are struggling to manage the conflict between tourists, locals, ecologists, tourism - and sharks. Sharks are being killed as a management strategy and, without this top predator, the food chain crumbles, creating all sorts of problems further down the track. With all the scientific evidence against shark-culling, I've been amazed how authorities are reacting to a few attacks in such an illogical and emotional way.

## Kinabatangan and Tabin

Once we had arrived at the snake-like Kinabatangan River, which was wide and full, we travelled by boat along part of its 560-kilometre length. The area is home to all eight species of hornbill, as well as orang-utan, proboscis monkey, crocodiles, pygmy elephants and numerous colourful birds.

I love it when I learn something new, and joined other guests on a trip to an 'oxbow lake' which I'd thought it was a funny name for a lake. It was not until the next day, browsing in the resort library, that I realised what it was that I'd seen. They are a unique feature of this area, influenced by tides as well as flooding during heavy rains. There are about twenty such lakes in the Lower Kinabatangan and I learnt they are formed by the large meandering bends in the river which gets cut off from the main river by erosion. Flooding then changes the river's direction as the gush of water rushes in the most direct way to the sea. This leaves a lake behind, cut off from the main river. The name 'oxbow' refers to the shape of the wooden harnesses on oxen - and the only oxbow I'd heard of until I was in this area.

These occasional massive floods slowly change the river, and the lakes too are claimed by vegetation. This process is being speeded up by the invasive water hyacinth which has been in the area for about hundred years. Listed as one of the most productive plants on earth, it can double in size in twelve days and is considered the world's worst aquatic plant. It forms dense mats that competitively exclude native submersed and floating-leaved plants, and low oxygen conditions develop beneath them. Recent studies have shown it to be useful in absorbing heavy metals from polluted water and in Malaysia it has also been used to feed ducks and pigs - maybe a solution to some of the problems it causes.

As we travelled up the narrow stream off the river it suddenly became an expansive lake, attractive, peaceful and a great spot for birders and the local fishers who mainly use nets. I took four boat trips while at Proboscis Lodge and each one provided a very different aspect to this scientifically and historically important region. We also saw one of the four tallest trees in the world, the Mengaris. Locals believe these trees, in which bees often form hives, have spirits living in them and ill fortune will come to those who cut them. While driving around Sabah I'd noticed that many areas cleared for oil plantations have these tall trees reaching skyward, more I suspect for practical reasons than myths: I believe the tree contains silica which soon blunts saws.

It's in this region, in the land of hornbills; that I finally saw many hornbills although the Malaysia Nature Society says there are fewer around. I heard hornbills in flight before seeing them as they flew into a roosting tree at the lodge, just like New Zealand's native kereru, the world's largest wood pigeon with its distinctive swishing sound. It's for the sights and sounds like these that I love to travel.

The boatman, a local tribesman employed by the lodge for his water and nature skills, was a skilled and also turned the motor off, or used the quiet electric outboard motor, when we stopped to watch wildlife.

'Look before you leap' does not seem to be advice proboscis monkeys observe. They were a noisy troop, communicating with honks and groans and crashing through the foliage, leaping from tree to tree and landing almost in a belly-flop. A threatened species, they are a colobine monkey, which means they have enlarged, multi-chambered stomachs containing a bacterium which aids digestion of the leaves they eat and making them the only ruminant primate.

Their babies have blue faces. All have webbed feet and can swim well if needed; they live about thirteen years and need to range widely to find sufficient nourishment. I loved those comically long-nosed, severely endangered proboscis monkeys, perhaps even more than the world-renowned man-of-the-forest orang-utan and felt honoured that we could sit in the boat and watch them living in the wild.

Twice I saw wild orang-utan in the lower Kinabatangan area, and also noticed researchers, in a small electric boat, recording all they saw, monitoring the animals including orang-utan orphans which had been released in the area. Both NGOs and University research teams are doing vital work in monitoring the health of the forest and its inhabitants.

My journal is full of sightings; palm squirrels, long-tailed and pig-tailed macaques, and langur, a Storm's stork, serpent eagle, and Brahminy kite, to name just a few birds. Up a side river, the Menaggol, estuarine crocodiles, on the bank and in the water, had their eyes on us. These huge creatures, up to eight metres in length and once prized for their hides, are now extremely rare. An optional extra, my night boat safari added two civet cats, a couple of Buffy fish-owls, and the beautiful stork-billed kingfisher, the largest of kingfishers. This whole area, like Bako, is just one more wonderful place to add to my Malaysian revisit bucket list.

Borneo is young geologically and was once the huge land of Sundaland, a bio-geographical region of Southeast Asia, the part of the Asian continental shelf that was exposed during the last Ice Age. It included the Malay Peninsula on the Asian mainland, as well as the large islands of Borneo, Java, and Sumatra and their surrounding islands. When the Ice Age ended, the sea rose and Borneo became isolated, an island.

Leaving Proboscis Lodge, too soon, I travelled by car to Lahad Datu where I was picked up at the Tabin Wildlife Resort office beside the tiny airport. Tabin is considered Sabah's greatest wildlife sanctuary. On the Dent Peninsula, jutting into the Sulawesi Sea, it's an hour's journey and once we got to the entrance it was still another 10km on an unsealed, lumpy road. We were travelling on roads with oil plantations on either side of the road and my heart sank. Despite the claims in brochures, I didn't see how there could be much wildlife in that environment.

I was the only person picked up that day and sat in the front, so had good views of a magnificent Mengaris tree. I later realised it may be the tallest and most photographed rainforest tree in the area. Monitor lizards were sunning themselves on the road and a raptor flew overhead. As both animals are scavengers I realised there must be food around and that maybe some of my pre-Borneo perceptions were wrong. There is a connection between those Malaysian oil palm plantations and New Zealand, and recently Kiwi protestors boarded a ship carrying palm oil kernel residue - for use as supplementary cattle feed.

Fonterra imports a quarter of the world's supply of the residue and declares it buys the product from a single source which respects designated conservation areas, employs wildlife experts and will have complete certification audits by 2014. Greenpeace is not so sure. It says claims of improvement from the Roundtable for Sustainable Palm Oil (RSPO) are 'greenwash', that RSPO have failed to deliver major changes on the ground, and that their claims of traceability of sources is an ongoing challenge. I don't know who is correct.

In spite of the appalling lack of labelling of ingredients on food products in our supermarkets, Auckland Zoo runs a 'buy palm-oil free' campaign, and its brochure quotes Dr. Seuss from The Lorax: 'unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.' It's a complex topic and sometimes my head gets sore at the claims and counter-claims.

As well as concern for deforestation and loss of habitat for orang-utan, proboscis monkeys, pygmy elephants, and other animals in Borneo, New Zealanders also have concerns with the degradation of NZ water supplies. This has accelerated in recent years as the numbers of dairy herds increased rapidly.

Like Malaysians who want the improved lifestyle that comes from selling palm oil, so too do Kiwis from exporting our dairy products. Nonetheless, until we locals stop the deteriorating water quality and the farming of a massive water-dependant product on our most drought-prone lands, and give consumers a choice of food by product labelling, it is a delicate balance and I often wonder at our pointing fingers at other countries actions or records.

The more I write, the more this becomes a topic that's almost beyond me. However, I'll just continue to shun plastic bags, pay for some dubious carbon credits, recycle my trash, grow vegetables, reduce my meat consumption, buy only free-range pork and eggs, and generally try to be as 'green' as I can whether at home or travelling. But I sometimes I think - especially as New Zealanders are the world's 4th highest carbon emitters - that I'm kidding myself, and have to remind myself about the starfish. But enough ranting and back to my travels.

Tabin's brochure says it is Borneo's Birding & Wildlife Paradise, and to reinforce the claim, all visitors are given a pocket checklist for recording the creatures we see. It starts with the 260 species of birds recorded here.

Guests were assigned a guide but I had just arrived and hadn't even been given a room when I was told, 'quick, come with me, gibbons just past your room.' OMG, my first sighting of something I'd never seen, and they were only a two minute walk from the dining room, twenty seconds past my accommodation. I was in love instantly.

Gibbons are silent except for an hour or two on awakening, and these were silent as they swung acrobatically from branch to branch, just as you imagine all monkeys do (but don't). Hard to photograph, because of their speed, their almost hook-shaped hands and comically long arms and legs make them agile, and I sighed with pleasure as I watched them in the tree canopy where they spend most of their time. Lunch could wait.

Like tightrope walkers, they use their outstretched arms to keep their balance and I was amazed at how they leapt from branch to branch across large gaps, and it was not until they moved deeper into the forest and out of sight that I checked out my unit with its balcony which overlooked a small river. I was in an ideal spot to relax with the soothing sound of water and watch birds, butterflies and the mischievous macaque when they travel through the resort. Just sitting there made me realise why Tabin is considered a bird-watcher's paradise.

The next morning, about the time I woke up to the sound of the forest, the same family (mum, dad, and three youngsters) announced their presence with territorial hooting calls, warning other gibbon to stay out of their territory. This noisy display took half an hour or more every morning and was always started by the adult female - and she appeared to be the one who decided when to move on.

Evidently, their haunting calls can be heard for long distances and consist of a duet between the mated pair with the young ones sometimes joining in. Monogamous, and endemic to the dense forests, they are tailless, and their coats range from brown to almost black with white markings on their faces and hands. Among the most threatened of primates, with their habitat disappearing at a rapid rate, they're often captured and sold as pets or killed for use in traditional medicines. All but one species of gibbon is listed as endangered or critically endangered. These, in Tabin, are the Müller's Bornean Gibbon (Gray), which are endemic to the island of Borneo.

Seeing them so unexpectedly was just the first of many highlights in the Tabin Wildlife Reserve which is twice the size of Singapore. The reserve is managed by the Sabah Wildlife Department who, with the Sabahmas Plantation have a project in the area trying to encourage the Sumatran rhinos to breed: there are thirty to fifty in the world.

Dominated by secondary growth, with patches of virgin forest, this area is largely surrounded by oil plantations which I now find makes it easy to see many creatures as they move between the plantations and forest for food, and use the road as an easy trail. The reserve and plantation share a 9km boundary which means resort, the department, and the oil plantations have shared responsibilities for the flora and fauna of the area - this alliance seems to be working for them all, and for the animals.

My two nights and three days went too fast and I was out day and night on safaris on the back of an open truck, as well as the walking treks I took with my guide, Palin, who told me he was named by a British friend of his family. With leech socks and gumboots, on one trip we visited the amazing mud volcanoes which are changing constantly, burping and bubbling.

Yet again on this Malaysian trip I ended up outside my comfort zone, this time by climbing up the Wildlife Department's twenty metre observation tower. Local wildlife love the minerals they get in the mud volcano, which is a three to twelve metre mound of mud and clay forced up through other sediments. The mud is formed when volcanic gasses dissolve in the hot ground water and interact with the igneous rocks a few metres below the surface.

The highly saline and sticky mixture dries to a solid, crumbly mud which becomes a mineral salt-lick for many creatures although only birds visited while I was there. My guide pointed out footprints in the mud, mainly mouse deer, pigs and elephant prints, which were easy to spot. Evidently the pH level there was quite alkaline (averaging 8.0) which means few plants can grow in the immediate area. When I rubbed mud onto my face Palin was horrified. 'No, no, just use the very fresh, new mud. There might be urine in that older area.'

I would have spent more time there but another group arrived and were not respectful about keeping quiet - of course no animals or birds would visit while they were in the area. A teenager in the noisy family group, with their non-Malaysian guide, spent his time in Tabin with a butterfly net, chasing any insect he saw. Talking with their guide, an American living in KK with a travel business, I suggested he needed to stop the boy, that it was his responsibility as guide. He said that he'd told the boy a few times, had even tried to enlist the support of the relatives but to no avail. They said he was just catching, photographing and releasing, so it was OK - pointed out it would not be OK for me to do the same in one of his county's national parks. Hardly eco-tourists, but I'm sure they returned home talking of their eco-adventures.

Leaving the laughing, noisy group, Palin and I walked back along the muddy six or seven hundred metre Mud Volcano Trail where we saw more elephant footprints and manure, but they were not fresh. We also heard a frog, a male Bornean tree-hole frog, which exploits the acoustic properties of cavities in tree trunks or vines. The tiny creature uses the partially water-filled holes to increase its voice and so his chance of finding a mate, and then cleverly uses the watery hole as a safe egg hatchery.

Dusk was falling as we walked back towards the resort, a good time to hear the evening bird song. I asked about a funny noise I could hear in my chalet. It sounded like a puppy learning to bark. It was not like other geckos I had heard but suspected it was one. My assumptions were correct - in fact it was even called the barking gecko.

After a shower and dinner I had the first of two night trips. As we drove down the road that separated the palm oil plantations from the native bush, we saw, or rather our eagle-eyed guides saw, things to point out to us. With no light pollution the night sky was clear and as there were many owls, Palm Civets, and a Leopard Cat it was obvious they must find plenty to eat.

A group of about eighty piglets ran in front of us before running back into the forest. They often form these herds which I was told are called a 'sounder' of pigs - the collective noun for a group of wild pigs. Next day, not happy with my photos on that first night safari, I left my camera behind on the next evening trip - breaking the number one rule for all photographers: always keep your camera close.

That second night, as well as seeing a giant-eyed slow loris, an Italian man spotted the prize - the stealthy carnivore, the silent killer, the wonderful and endangered Sunda clouded leopard. I could not believe my luck. It was right beside the road and we stopped to gaze in amazement, remaining silent as it too froze briefly before slinking into the bush. Beautifully marked with large irregular patches of colour, it was about as big as a medium-sized dog and not many tourists get to see this vulnerable creature. Research estimates there are only 275–585 of them in the four totally protected reserves that are large enough to hold a long-term viable population of fifty individuals.

Having no photo of my own, I was grateful to Cristian Morettin, the Italian hero who had first seen the leopard, who later sent me one of his for my blog, as well as one of me up to my knees in water as we crossed a river before cooling down in a waterfall pool.

On the same day that we saw the mainly nocturnal leopard (Tabin is considered to have two or three hundred according to Wendy Hutton in her book Tabin) we also saw another, less rare sight: the Bornean, or pygmy, elephant. Getting ready for the afternoon safari (all were included in the cost to stay at this luxurious resort) our guide again rounded us up with urgency.

'Quick, an elephant in the area' got us moving fast despite the heat. In the first of the three trucks to leave, only moments later I spotted him slowly disappearing into the bush. The driver was told where to go and wait for the animal to reappear. While the guide scanned the bush, I photographed oil plantation workers on the opposite side of the road - it's a hard job and I believe some 90% of the workers in the plantations are Indonesian migrants employed to do the harvesting, weeding and maintenance that Malays won't do, because of the low wages.

Ten minutes later our guide was proved right about where the elephant would go, and he, a lone bull, emerged from the bush into the long grass he loves to eat. Despite being smaller than other elephants, they are between 2.5 and 3 metres high, have big ears and straight tusks. Maybe alongside an Indian or African elephant they are tiny, but I'd be intimidated at his size had I met him on the path. He may be small, but the grass was high, and the photographer in me kept hoping he would come out into the more open areas - but no such luck. As always, animals do their own thing and he never emerged enough for a great photo.

We sat on the back of the truck and watched for about thirty minutes. He ignored us, just continued eating the elephant grass. As an older elephant, the lone males are at the bottom of the pecking order and can be a problem, although this one, a well-known regular, had caused none.

While a national treasure, the elephant is also considered a nuisance as they can, and do, destroy acres of foliage in one night. With fragmented forest reserves and deforestation, this sometimes places wildlife in conflict with landowners and villagers. Sadly I read that the fourteen pygmy elephants which were found dead at a forest reserve near Tawau, Sabah in January 2013 were killed by severe poisoning, according to the Sabah State Tourism, Culture and Environment Minister, Masidi Manjun. More positively, quick action by wildlife rescuers saved a herd of ten Bornean pygmy elephants which had wandered out of their usual range and ventured as close as 10km to Lahad Datu. The Sabah Wildlife Department, over eight days, captured and relocated them (nine female adults and a four-year old male calf) back into Tabin. The Sabahmas Plantations beside Tabin have electric fences and green corridors to help keep the elephants out of their palm areas because of the damage they do.

Adding Tabin Resort onto my getting ever longer 'revisit bucket-list' that Malaysian Borneo had produced, I flew back to KK, added a few more dollars to the local community with a haircut, manicure, massage, and of course shopping in the big, annual Merdeka (Independence Day) sales and headed home to New Zealand.

## Back to my 100% pure home

With a landmass less than Japan's and only four and half million people, it's always a shock to see New Zealand's relatively empty streets after travelling. Lying in temperate latitudes surrounded by a huge ocean, and buffeted by the trade winds, we have fresh air, frequent blue skies and rain, all leading to abundant vegetation and wide open spaces. Scenery has been the country's marketing image for over 150 years, ever since the pink and white terraces and Rotorua were being promoted overseas, long before the '100% pure' tagline brand.

New Zealand has often been questioned by media, within the country and overseas, about the integrity of the slogan, and by environmental purists who have tried to tie it to their (rightful) concerns about dairy farming, water usage and the consequent fertiliser damage to our rivers and harbours.

As I recall it, the fifteen year-long campaign of '100% pure' was originally about having a quality, uniquely 100% pure New Zealand travel experience. It was never attached to the environment. Needless to say, any of our amazingly Maori tourism ventures are very much one hundred per cent pure New Zealand.

Market research has always shown tourists understand the campaign's messages of how landscapes, people and activities combine to produce a uniquely New Zealand experience. The Tourism New Zealand's 2012 Visitor Experience Monitor shows that satisfaction with our landscapes and natural scenery received an overall rating of 9.5 out of 10, the highest rating in the survey and ahead of food, beverages and shopping.

Worldwide, as well as in Malaysian Borneo and New Zealand, historic houses, gardens, national and wild-life parks thrive on tourism, and this can in fact aid preservation efforts. Despite the conflicts between tourism development and environmental protection, our tourist dollars are often vital for the conservation of both natural and man-made places and things.

Of course regions and countries can become over-dependant on tourism, and even tourism itself goes through fashions. Apart from us free independent travellers - who continue to travel despite problems - mass tourism stops at the drop of a hat when nature, civil unrest, or war creates problems and the region loses its vital tourist income. I believe one way to slow this debilitating ebb and flow of tourist dollars in a specific area is by countries accentuating the differences between their region and its neighbours - as I'd said earlier, real travellers are looking for authentic experiences, not a homogenised holiday they could have had in many places.

Malaysian Borneo is lucky to have many differences, including its exceptional array of rare and endangered species. With its tropical climate, abundant sunshine and high rainfall, it provides ideal conditions for its complex and intricate web of life. According to ecologist Professor David Bellamy, Sabah is a 'living solar-powered theme park', while Sir David Attenborough said that when he was right in the middle of Borneo, he thought he was in a different world - both great recommendations. Go and check it out for yourself.

## Greenish - but not as green as I'd like to be

So, can a travel writer like me be green? No, not really. On reflection, all I can do is keep my footprint as small as possible.

Perhaps travel agents and guide books sell us too narrow a view of places to visit. Along with our tickets they (and the books) have given us a list of sights we must see, activities to do, or places to stay. It's not for nothing the popular Lonely Planet books have been nicknamed the 'travellers' bible' as many won't eat, visit, stay or see anything or anywhere until the book is consulted. An example of unintended consequences can be the six hotels mentioned are full while three, not in the book, and maybe better, are empty.

This is not a new problem. Read books written years ago and the same complaints are made. Tell others you are going to Bali or Timbuktu, Christchurch or Botswana and immediately you will be told that you should have gone there two, five, ten, fifty years ago, 'before it was discovered', or in Christchurch, New Zealand's case, 'before the earthquakes'.

So, what can we travellers do? Well, I don't know what you will do, but what I do is travel slowly, travel cheaply, support local businesses and use their home-grown products whenever I can.

Life on an Asian marine reserve sounds wonderful, a great eco experience. Yes, the natural sights and walks are fantastic and money spent on food and accommodation remains with the locals. Unfortunately, the big money is often creamed off many islands in, for example, diving lessons given by Europeans who come in for the tourist season, then leave taking the money with them. Because of the lack of a robust infrastructure, the rubbish that the travellers complain about is brought to the island by them: water bottles are not refilled, plastic bags and straws are left on the beach by the very tourists who may claim they're 'green' or who expect a 'green' experience.

So, by combining the universal codes of pack it in, pack it out and take only photos, leave only footprints, along with trying to avoid well-worn tourist trails, or travel times, means I'm able to enjoy my travels with a clearer conscience. But I wonder, does staying eight weeks spread my carbon pollution footprint thinner than if I had taken the same trip over three weeks? I'd like to think so, but suspect I'm merely attempting to justify my travel addiction.

I wonder can I do anything to make up for the huge ecological footprint I create as soon as I step on a plane. I doubt it. I'm ashamed to say that, with an annual international trip, it seems that if everyone lived as I do we would need two and half Earths. That's not good.

For New Zealand, here at the bottom of the world, and needing tourist dollars to generate income, employment and overseas funds, telling travellers to holiday close to home would mean no-one could travel to New Zealand, nor could we go away. Our closest neighbour is Australia, some three plus hours away. On the positive side, our national airline, Air NZ, is a world-leader in reducing the CO2 emissions in their fleet.

Tourism is a huge money earner and figures quoted by Hossenally indicate it is the world's most lucrative industry with revenue of some $900 million generated by a billion tourists in 2012.

As I asked at the beginning, can a travel writer be green, can any traveller be green, or more importantly, can this kiwi travel writer be green?

As green as I try to be, by flying I am not, and although this trip was to Malaysian Borneo it could have been any travel-writing trip I've done. But being there, with its incredible wildlife, it heightened my awareness. It certainly highlighted some issues around sustainable travel which seems a better world than eco-tourism.

I recently read a blog that said something along the lines that when we travel to less developed countries, we often think that just by being there we are helping to provide a better quality of life for the locals. Of course, that's not so. Because of globalization, just five dollars of about every hundred you spend, stays local. Tourism is one of the most powerful agents for change, and we consumers must vote with our wallets and support local people with local businesses.

The United Nations Environment Programme, in its reference to the  negative impacts of tourism says 'A study of tourism 'leakage' in Thailand estimated that 70% of all money spent by tourists ended up leaving Thailand (via foreign-owned tour operators, airlines, hotels, imported drinks and food). Estimates for other Third World countries range from 80% in the Caribbean to 40% in India.'

Finally, in a radio interview (Radio NZ National. Dec 2014) Australian Jane Gleeson-White (Six Capitals: The revolution capitalism has to have \- or can accountants save the planet?) said that if we really had to pay the true cost of anything, we would have to stop spending. (And I would hate to stop travelling). It seems her book was driven by the question of how to make nature count, so we don't continue to destroy it in our endless pursuit of more GDP and profits.

I didn't research such things for this essay, nor did I look at political terms such as blue-green, red-green, dark-green which are often used to describe eco activities. This was just about me and my travels, looking at a particular trip through the prism of what I've absorbed and understood from general reading and TV shows over a lifetime of National Geographic, David Bellamy and, of course, the ever-present, ever admired, David Attenborough.

Nevertheless, we can be as green as possible by not littering, by refilling our drink bottles, by refusing straws, by recycling, and most importantly by supporting small local business. As I said earlier, trickle down does not trickle at all. This version of economics has been variously called political voodoo, or more graphically, the rich pissing on the poor. Let's not engage in that but, as much as possible, spend at the bottom, and spend it in the country we're visiting, make tourism worthwhile to locals, and not the burden it often can be.

## Connect with Heather Hapeta

So again back to my original question: can a travel writer be green? Yes, but it's not easy. Am I green? Not really! Do I try? Yes. Can you? Of course - in fact I'm sure many of you are way better at green travel than I am, so please let me know how you do it.

Let's have a conversation about it all on my Facebook page: see you there.

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