Borneo

Last weekend, I had the life-changing opportunity to go on a river tour in Borneo to observe orangutans.

We were an eclectic group of six ladies from four different countries, with personalities almost as diverse as the varieties of wildlife in the Borneo jungle.  I travelled with Naomi, Julie, Hyunjie and Elsie - teachers from SPH, and Barbara - a teacher from the New Zealand International School.

First of all, there was the heat.  There is just no way to anticipate the kind of heat and humidity that we experienced, standing in the still air in the middle of the jungle, watching the orangutans for hours at a time.  Sweat like I never knew my body could produce.  I literally thought it was raining, but then realized it was just me dripping sweat on myself.  Our clothing was saturated, our hair looking like we'd just stepped out of the shower.  I had to look over the top of my glasses because they were so fogged up.

And then the skies did open up.  We were standing at one of the feeding stations, and I heard a sound like a rushing river coming over the trees.  I turned to Julie, who was standing beside me, and said, 'Is that rain?'  And all of a sudden it hit like a flood, everyone rushing to pull out their umbrellas and raincoats.  It was such an eerie thing to hear it coming through the jungle like that.  

I became keenly aware of the fact that the jungle is WILD.  The whole time I was there, I had a song running through my head.  It is a cute, upbeat song from the boys' preschool, and it starts out, 'When you're living in the jungle....'  The kids make a bunch of adorable animal sounds and it's all sweet and lovely.  The version my brain was concocting had a more sinister tone, including verses about carnivorous pitcher plants, the jungle floor teaming with life, and malaria.  There is something about the jungle that made me feel like it was a living, moving, untamed creature.  

The jungle is LOUD.  It is full of cicadas, humming or screeching or whatever you want to call it.  There are some that sound like table saws.  It literally sounds like there must be a construction site hiding somewhere just out of sight.  The second night we rode down the river in the dark, but the sounds of the jungle on either side were haunting.  I would not want to be in there in the dark, I can tell you that much.  

And there are fireflies.  As we rode down the river at night, we saw the jungle twinkling like Christmas trees, all lit up by fireflies.  It felt like Disney had come and sprinkled some sparkle dust on the jungle.  (And speaking of Disney, while we were cruising through the jungle rivers, I had the incredibly intelligent thought, 'Wow!  This is like the Jungle Cruise in Disneyland!'  But anyways....)

And there is the river water.  The water that in the mine-polluted sections looks like a latte, and in the clean sections looks like tea.  The water that at one moment is used as a toilet, and the next for washing our dishes...

We saw trees full of proboscis monkeys, gibbons, and yes, orangutans.  What amazing creatures.  They are awkward on land, walking kind of like I do when I get up in the morning and none of my limbs are working yet.  But in the trees, these huge creatures are incredibly graceful.  Their movements seem completely disproportionate to their size.  Way up high, these massive creatures reach - reach - reach from one limb to the next, bending the branches past what seems should be their breaking point, then pausing.  Hanging out, taking a moment, seemingly taunting physics.  Then, effortlessly they reaching over to the next branch and do it all over again.  

There were so many amazing moments watching these beautiful creatures.  The memory of them actually hurts my heart a bit.  There were moments that were breathtaking, some that were funny, and some that were even frightening.  But as with so many things, when I start to write the memories out in words, the words just don't do justice to the moments.  Suffice it to say, this was an absolutely life-changing experience.