People ask what Kuching is actually like, expecting the postcard answer. The honest one is stranger and better: it feels like stepping back in time. Chinese temples, Hari Raya, Ramadan — all of it sitting together, ordinary and unremarkable to the people living it. I once got kidnapped by kindness buying a pack of cigarettes — twenty minutes later I was the guest of honour at a wedding I had no connection to. That's not a story I'm exaggerating for effect. That's just what happens there.
It's peaceful. There's a real sense of community, the kind that's hard to manufacture and impossible to fake. There's a custom — Kangtao — that sums it up better than I can explain: something for me, something for you, wrapped into an exchange that looks like nothing on the surface but means everything underneath it. And the nature is genuinely beautiful — it hasn't been pushed the way Sabah has, so it doesn't get the same attention, but it stands out precisely because of that. Bako National Park is one of those places that's actually breathtaking, not just described that way.
Whether it suits you depends entirely on the pace of life you're chasing. There's nightlife if you want it, but it isn't Thailand — no backpacker chaos, no manufactured scene. Things run on something closer to island time: they happen when they happen. If you're trying to live at a hundred miles an hour, Kuching will frustrate you. If you're willing to slow down and actually be in it, it's the kind of place that rewards that patience.
Some of what I'd point people toward: Borneo Rednecks for live music, the Bear Garden for a drink that puts money toward something that matters, and Siniawan night market for something that feels like local life rather than a show put on for visitors. Heart Treasures and Project Borneo — the organisation I gave a chunk of my time to — are the kind of charities doing real work quietly, not performing it.
The biggest thing people get wrong before they arrive is assuming it'll be like West Malaysia — stricter, more conservative, more Muslim. It isn't. Kuching has its own rhythm, and the sense of community there doesn't come with the same expectations attached.
On how long I was actually there: longer than the conservation role alone suggests. I also worked with the Brook Trust and was self-employed for stretches either side of that job, so the years in Kuching run past the dates on a CV.