Discovering Kuching, Sarawak: The gateway to Borneo’s culture and diverse wildlife

There’s something about Kuching that stays with you. It’s not a city that clamours for attention but rather one that lets its quiet charms unfold at its own pace. As Sarawak positions itself as the “Gateway to Borneo” for 2025, I was curious to see how well Kuching embodied that spirit.

What I found was a place where nature, culture, and history intersect in ways that feel organic, not staged — an experience that lingers long after you leave.

A cultural prelude

Before exploring Sarawak’s wilderness, it makes sense to understand the communities that have shaped the land for centuries. The Sarawak Cultural Village, a collection of traditional longhouses set against the backdrop of Mount Santubong, provides that foundation.

Here, members of the Iban, Bidayuh, and Orang Ulu communities readily shared their customs, making the experience feel less like a tourist showcase and more like a personal introduction to the region’s heritage.

Each home had a storyteller eager to explain the significance of their traditions — how rice wine is brewed, the meaning behind intricate beadwork, or the role of longhouses in fostering communal living. While the site isn’t the most accessible for those with mobility challenges, it’s an engaging visit, especially for families.

The highlight? A cultural performance so energetic and immersive that it was easy to forget this was an introduction and not the trip’s main event.

A lesson in wild encounters

Sarawak’s beauty doesn’t just sit in its traditions — it thrives in its forests, rivers, and caves. Nowhere was this more apparent than at Semenggoh Wildlife Centre. Unlike a zoo, there are no enclosures, just acres of protected rainforest where semi-wild orangutans roam free.

With only two visitor sessions a day, nature entirely dictates the experience. The orangutans stayed hidden during my visit, which was a disappointment but a quiet victory. Their absence meant they had adapted to living independently, which is precisely what conservationists had hoped for.

That same day, nature had a way of making up for it. Wildlife sightings unfolded like a well-timed play as we drifted through the Santubong River on a sunset mangrove cruise. First, the faint ripple of a crocodile slipping beneath the surface. Then, a pod of Irrawaddy dolphins surfaced just long enough to make us catch our breath.

And finally, a harem of proboscis monkeys in the trees, their oversized noses giving them a look of permanent bewilderment. Each moment felt unplanned yet perfectly placed, a reminder that Sarawak’s best encounters aren’t scripted.

If Semenggoh and Santubong offered glimpses of wildlife, Bako National Park provided complete immersion. Getting there requires effort — a drive, a boat ride, and the realisation that you’ve entered a world where nature dictates the terms. The park is Sarawak’s oldest, home to sandstone cliffs, tangled mangroves, and dense rainforest teeming with life.

Hiring a guide proved invaluable. Without one, I might have walked right past the bearded pigs foraging along the trails or missed the rustle that gave away a silvered-leaf monkey overhead. Bako is not a place for passive sightseeing; it demands participation.

Whether it was navigating boardwalks through tidal flats or scrambling over tree roots on jungle trails, every step deepened my appreciation for this preserved slice of wilderness.

The journey through Sarawak’s landscapes wouldn’t be complete without venturing underground. While different in character, Fairy Cave and Wind Cave offered glimpses into the region’s geological and human past. Reaching Fairy Cave required a steep ascent, a test of endurance that paid off in cavernous chambers illuminated by slivers of sunlight.

Our guide recounted how the Bidayuh once used these caves as refuge; their stories etched into the rock formations surrounding us.

Wind Cave, by contrast, was more subdued. Its limestone walls were perhaps less dramatic but peppered with fossils, evidence of when this (roughly) 60 million-year-old land was submerged beneath ancient seas. Here, the air was cooler, carrying the flutter of unseen wings — bats that reminded us we were only visitors in their world.

Kuching doesn’t demand attention. It doesn’t need to. Its appeal isn’t in grand statements, but in the way its experiences connect — how a lesson in the Iban culture at the Sarawak Cultural Village enhances the significance of a trek through Bako or how the silence of an empty mangrove at dusk holds just as much magic as a rare wildlife sighting.

For those looking beyond the obvious, Kuching delivers a journey that unfolds with depth and authenticity. It’s not just a gateway to Borneo — it’s a reason to linger.