Monkeying Around in Borneo

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“People kill themselves whenever it’s the World Cup,” says Patrick, which might explain why the headline of the Borneo Times reads “Ex-Property Manager Dies in Jump.” The newspaper also carries a page two story about 15 newly banned pornography books, including Classic Nude Photography, and the wonderfully named Box Lunch - The Layperson’s Guide to Cunnilingus. I am not making this up. Malaysia may not be going down on the World Cup, but the country is as football mad as any. Half the newspaper is made up of World Cup coverage, while sidewalk diners are bustling through the night. With games being screened live at 3am, I decided that just this once, I’d stick with the brutal jetlag I’d picked up en-route somewhere in Taiwan. The World Cup is my only opportunity to watch countries attack each other on the battlefield, with no body count to spoil the fun. Brazil vs. Ghana? Holland vs. Portugal? There’s more going on here than just football. Bleary eyed, reading the breakfast paper, there was a story about a Japanese fan hanging himself. Maybe he wasn’t getting any sleep either.

Borneo is the third largest island in the world, after Greenland and New Guinea (Australia is not considered an island, but a continent). Thick with dense, legendary jungle, Malaysia and Indonesia have large states that comprise most of the island, with the wealthy yet tiny independent Brunei protects Michael Jackson on the north coast. I’m in Malaysian North Borneo, the state of Sabah, where the air is steamy and the thicket is alive with bugs, birds and hairy creatures. It’s a good thing I arrived in the dry months, because the cyclonic sheet of rain that was flooding parts of Kota Kinabalu must be something in the wet season. K.K is the capital of the state, population 350,000, surrounded by jungle and palm oil plantations. My quest was Mount Kinabalu, located about 90 minutes drive away and puncturing the sky with sharp, shark-teeth peaks. Towering at over 4000m, Kinabalu is a young mountain (in fact, it’s still growing) and has a steep 8km trail that goes up right to the top. Unfortunately, you need to book months ahead to get on it and stay overnight at the mid-way lodge. But when I found out that the record for a return visit to the top was an incredible 2 hours and 41 minutes, I decided to see how far I could get. “Wait, please, a break Gonzo, please!” says my guide Dell. He’s taking a bit of strain with the steep, slippery steps (think the Grouse Grind), the hard rain, the mud. “I need to replenish my oxygen,” he gasps, and lights up another cigarette. Unlike the drenched rats in their Helly Hansons coming down the uneven steps, I’m all boisterous enthusiasm. It’s not every day you get to peak on Southeast Asia’s tallest mountain. At the 2400m mark, Dell calls it quits, which is just as well, because we make it down just as a watery shower curtain falls from the sky. It’s the kind of thick rain you see in movies, not in real life. Fortunately, I could watch it from the restaurant at Kinabalu’s lodge, tucking into my fourth helping of nasi (rice) ayam (chicken), smothered in a rich, spicy-sweet sauce. I’ve missed Malay food.

Later, I somehow make it down to the hotel bar at 4am just in time to see Portugal beat Holland, much to the horror of a few, orange-clad Dutch tourists. Portuguese soccer fans are underrepresented in Borneo, which is more popular with Dutch, Australian, English and Scandinavian visitors. Earlier, a waiter screamed for Ecuador, earning him the hairy eyeballs of the English in the bar, complete in red and white face paint. Beckham bent it, so I decided to explore the Sinsuran Market, picking up a pair of $2 Ray Bans that, despite its labeling, were probably not “Made in the USA”. Dell treated me to some crunchy fried banana while young men watched American wrestling on the TV. Sabah is made up of Muslim Malays, Chinese Buddhists, and indigenous tribes largely converted to Christianity. Wrestling is non-denominational. That night, my plans to hit the town with Dell were foiled when his car got stuck in a flood. It was already so hot and humid that it’s quite possible the air just turned to water, to save the rain the trouble of falling.

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