Picture this, if you will. It is a sultry afternoon. Your boatman, with a practiced hand, guides the motorized canoe upstream over the heavy brown water of the Temburong river, navigating a series of rapids.
You squint in the harsh sunlight at the dense green vegetation stretching into the sky. A white bird lazily flaps its wings.
You climb up a hill, sweat pouring off every inch of you, even though you are shaded by the canopy of branches hundreds of feet above.
You listen to the music of the cicadas. You climb up a series of metal ladders to the very top of the canopy, and look out on to an ocean of deep green in every direction.
On your way down, the rain starts, small droplets at first, and then a deluge. You walk over the smooth pebbles in the bed of a stream to a little waterfall.
The rain drums on the trees, drowning out the sound of the falls, and of you singing to yourself as you sit on a rock, lost in those drums.
You sit there for what could have been a long time – you are not sure. Time has paused.
The green is now, impossibly, greener. The clouds kiss the tree-tops, now wreathed in mist. You head back, through rushing rapids and stinging rain.
Sounds like magic, doesn’t it? You can experience this yourself if you are willing to pay the price ( both literal and figurative).
This was the first day of our all-too-short trip to Brunei. We had flown into Bandar Seri Bagawan (the capital of Brunei) the night before.
One can stay in BSB, taking in the Sultan’s majestic glory at the Royal Regalia Museum, but the sounds of the jungle called to us, and we headed to the Sumbiling Eco Village in the Ulu Temburong national forest at the top of the morning.
Continue reading (Incl. Pics) at: Rain in the Borneo Jungle.