After a long day(s) and two connections in massive airports, we finally arrived in Kuching at around midday on Thursday local time. During the trip, however, four pieces of luggage were delayed, along with two members of our group, Eetu and Amos, who were stranded for a few hours longer at Heathrow Airport in London because of a mistake with the booking/check-in in Helsinki, which meant they missed the flight to Kuala Lumpur and had to follow us with a later one.
Coming out of the airport, the first thing that makes an impression is the almost intense humidity, especially having come from the typically dry winter in Finland with temperatures mostly around or below 0 degrees. The atmosphere is so wet, that thin wisps of cloud cling on the tops of mountains and stay there suspended, due to a lack of big contrasts in pressure or precipitation in the air.
And then, upon arrival at the Sarawak Cultural Village and making our way to the cabins, the greenness of the land became very present, as our perspective changed from the plane window, to the bus window, to seeing it, to walking in it. The depth, variety, and extent of everything green, and the immersivity of the experience of just being around it. After checking in, we had free time until dinner which I spent walking around and swimming in the beaches and a spring-water pool, feeling a need to breathe in this new environment.
As a first impression, it seems that in these rainforests so close to the equator, the predominant characteristic is one of blending, a conspicuous coexistence and interdependence not so obvious in boreal forests and their arctic climates, which are typically characterised by intense contrasts (of colour, seasons, temperatures, sun and the lack of, and so on).
This is a place where mountain, forest, sea are all inseparably one. The forests arranged in such a mesmerising complex set of relationships that it is hard to point where one plant ends and where another begins, or figure out which leaves belong to which tree. This sensation of bleeding borders extends from landscapes at broad, where sea, forest, rock, mountain all blend into each other, to soundscapes.
In the same way that everything is filled with green of all kinds, against which we can then perceive the insects, animals, seeds, flowers and other elements of the surrounding nature, the soundscape is similarly arranged where the constant sound of water (in the form of waves, rivers, brooks, waterfalls, rain, or droplets making their way to the ground through the various layers of foliage after the rain has stopped) provides a backdrop against which we hear a mix of birdsong, insectsong, and monkey-call. This soundscape feels like the equivalent of Pollock painting on top of a Rothko in the same colours.
What makes this land so exotic personally, beyond the different flora and fauna, the length of the days or the temperature, is the impossibility of snow or ice. There is, however, a similar stillness in the air despite constant movement - much like one can experience stillness and clarity of mind while ice-swimming in Finland, or while kayaking down complicated and demanding rapids.
All in all, this seems to be a place where a multitude of very diverse elements seem to co-exist peacefully and interdependently, which feels like a great inspiration for the work that is going to take place here over the following days.
I can't say much about the camp itself, other than that it feels like it's going to be a very intensive and fascinating ten days, which we are all looking forward to. After dinner we were briefed about tomororw's schedule, most of the missing luggage was already at the nearby hotel, and we now know that Amus and Eetu are very close to arriving here.
-Laonikos
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