I am on Jalan Gambier street in the heart of the city of Kuching (capital of Sarawak, Borneo)on a humid December afternoon. My T-shirt has been reduced to a soggy dish-rag, and my hair clings in Medusa-like coils around my temples. If I had any sense, I'd retreat to my air-conditioned haven at the Crown Plaza Hotel, but I'm a junkie when it comes to inhaling the smells, sights and sounds of street bazaars-and this one has me hooked.

I look wistfully at carved Iban blow-pipes and darts-they'd be a wonderful conversation piece back home, but airport security in Los Angeles en-route to Vancouver might squirm; no knowing what havoc a grey-haired sixty-two year old woman might cause on board with tribal blow-pipe and darts sticking out of her hand-baggage.

I move on to peer at an exquisitely crafted hornbill-but no, too bulky to pack in my already overstuffed suitcase. Jewellery -beads and semi-precious stones set in beaten silver? Nope, definitely beyond my budget. And look at that gong and nose flute...and my goodness, here's a hand painted batik skirt and matching tunic in royal blue silk. Wow! Grab it and worry about my Master Card billing later. A set of bamboo place mats in interwoven colours of black, orange and blue? Perfect. They pack flat and cost less than three dollars for ten. Whoopeee!

Across Jalan Gambier street is a produce market-an open-fronted shed-like structure- where housewives, like flocks of fussy hens, peck at flame coloured peppers, purple egg-plants and chubby little yellow bananas. I zero in, squelching my way across mud, discarded fruit and vegetable detritus. The air smells of papaya, mango and durian mingled with spicier aromas of coriander, chillies and roasting peanuts. I pass on an offering of sago worms, but toy with the idea of buying a jar of sambal-shrimp paste embellished with a fiery chilli sauce.

It is early evening now, and a breeze has sprung up, dissipating the afternoon's humidity. I pause to enjoy a glass of ice cold mango juice at a wayside booth and then, as I stroll towards Kuching's Waterfront Esplanade, I am brought face to face with the city's unique historical heritage.

Just beyond the dignified old courthouse and clock tower, a stone obelisk honours Rajah Charles Brooke. Sarawak is, in fact, the only state in the world to have been ruled by three generations of "White Rajahs". The astonishing thing is that they weren't representatives of Britain's colonial power-they were independent administrators who held sway as absolute rulers for three generations.

The first Rajah, a swashbuckling adventurer, James Brooke succeeded in quelling a rebellion against a local governor. As a token of gratitude, the Sultan of Brunei who owned vast territories in Borneo, proclaimed him Rajah of Sarawak in 1841.

His nephew Charles Brooke and Charles's son, Vyner Brooke continued the White Rajah dynasty- although Vyner Brooke and his family were forced to take refuge in Australia after the Japanese occupation in 1941. On his return to Borneo, he decided to cede Sarawak to the British Crown in 1946. It wasn't a popular move. Anti-colonial sentiment erupted into violent demonstrations, and eventually Sarawak became part of the federation of Malaysia in the early sixties.

An interesting footnote to this is that a branch of the Rajahs Brooke family now live in Canada, and that a small town (16 sq. miles) called Sarawak near Owen Sound in northern Ontario pays tribute to this connection.

As I emerge onto the Waterfront Esplanade, the sun is setting, turning the sky to burnished copper. The cityscape glimmers with firefly lights, their reflections fractured in the Sarawak River. People stroll, chat, and munch on peanuts.

Across the water, the magnificent Astana-once the Brooke family's palace-is a white ghost against the encroaching dusk. It is now the residence of the governor of Sarawak so, regrettably its library, momentoes and archives relating to the Brooke family is off limits to tourists.

A little further along the opposite shore are the turrets of Fort Margherita, which has been converted into a Police Museum with a display of old weaponry, portraits of the White Rajas and a Skull House containing smoked skulls. Ancient animist beliefs maintain that vanquished souls turn protective in the hereafter, so the skulls were originally installed here as a shield against evil forces.

I am regretful at the thought of leaving Kuching the following morning. It is a charming town, and not the least of its appeal is that it is that it pays whimsical tribute to its nomenclature.

Kuching means "cat" in Malay. No one is quite sure how the name originated but perhaps it was derived from the "cat's eye" trees that grow abundantly in the area. Be that as it may, two statues of playful felines-one in the main town square the other at the Waterfront Esplanade-are oft-photographed icons of a city as graceful and beguiling as its namesake.

Getting There:

Malaysia Airlines connects Kuching to Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and Kota Kinabalu, and via connecting flights to other Malaysian and international destinations. The airline has a well-deserved reputation for efficient service and superb hospitality.
For more information, visit their web site at: www.malaysiaairlines.com.my/
or visit the Sarawak Tourism Board website at http://www.sarawaktourism.com

About the photos:
Top: The cats of Kuching.
Next: Children enjoy minding a stall in Kuching Market
Next: Lebuh India (Little India), Pedestrian Mall in Kuching.
Bottom: A street seller lays out her wares for sale.

Margaret Deefholts is a Canadian author and freelance travel writer/photographer.