Kampong Ayer

Having found a ludicrously cheap flight, my wallet felt heavy with the extra sing (apore) dollars inside, and so it was with this feeling that we decided to throw the tiny Sultanate of Brunei into our travel plans.  Let me just take a quick moment to salute Air Asia, the patron saint of no frills, cheap flights: two return tickets from Singapore - Kuching for about 100 Canadian dollars, hello!  Anyhow, to get to Brunei we would need a quick domestic flight and a bus ride over the border.  However, not only was it the extra dough that prodded us toward Brunei, it helped that no one goes to there.  We were looking for something offbeat, something slightly obscured, and so Brunei beckoned.  


I’ll skip ahead to its capital city, Bandar Siri Begawan (BSB).  I had read that it boasted the largest “stilt village” in the world, Kampong Ayer.  Kampong means “village” in Malay, and I’m guessing here when I say that Ayer probably means “water.”  In the past, I had seen a couple of houses overtop water in the Mekong Delta, and I thought this is what BSB would offer, except maybe super-sized.  There, the houses were often built on land but had spilled over on top of the river.  As we ambled through the small, sleepy capital, we approached the Brunei River, which bisects the capital city with its slow flow.  Directly across from the downtown waterfront, hundreds of a small structures stood atop stilts, props, and crutches, and bustling life could be seen from the other side.

Anachronistic satellite dishes connect
 homes in the water village. 

Stilt village immediately conjures images of misshaped buildings and mishaps, but I must assure you that Kampong Ayer is a very orderly, very well built village on top of the water.  No bridge obstructs the Brunei River, and so school children and businessman alike must take a daily water taxi to get from Kampong Ayer, purely residential, to the main riverfront of BSB to go about their day.  The village boasts its own police station and fire station, as well as several schools and mosques to support its 39 000 strong population.  Water taxies zip to and fro across the river, stopping at designated “ports,” which are glorified pieces of concrete serving as a quick drop off point for the frantic taxi drivers.  When one steps onto the taxi port, a path of gangplanks leads through the houses, winding around and connecting commuters.  Electric power and telephone lines run to most of the rustic homes, and water pipes covertly connect to each house from underneath the gangplank.

Through the village.

We decided to explore one side of village in the morning.  We started off from solid ground, stepping onto the elevated wooden platform of cobbled boards, rusted nails, and wobbly foundations.  Here it was impossible to amble, head up, soaking up the scene -- such an approach would surely lead to a tumble into the tepid brown river.  I felt a little awkward, as the paths lead right up to each house and sometimes through its front porch, but we quickly found that Kampong Ayer’s people were quite friendly and welcoming.  Smiles greeted us from old rocking chairs, from boats, from windows.  School children, on their way home for lunch, were eager to practice their English: “Hi!  Where you from?”  These warm faces helped put us at ease, and so we continued to explore until we came across one of the village’s mosques.      


Lucy wrapped up outside -- donning a scarf for her head and neck, a long sleeved button up for her shoulders and arms, and a sarong to serve as an ankle length dress -- and I rolled down my shorts into pants and buttoned up my shirt.  It was oppressively hot, but it’s important to be mindful and respectful.  After seeking out the Imam, he quickly scanned us with his eyes and allowed us inside the mosque.  He regretfully told us that although he would’ve guided us through the mosque and fielded any questions, he had to leave.  


After the mosque, we unwrapped and walked back through the village.  The noon day sun was high and the heat was beating down on our heads.  Our necks were beginning to smart, and though our eyes wanted to see more, our feet won us over and we quickly headed back to BSB’s downtown for much needed shade.  Kampong Ayer was a uniquely beautiful village and it boasts widely welcoming people (except one chauvinist who didn’t seem to enjoy a woman with her ankles bare).  To end the morning, we grabbed a lunch of Brunein  food -- tough beef and mushroom curry, sautéed vegetables with chilli paste, and ambuyat, a goop made from the sap of a tree -- and receded into cover of the restaurant.  In case you’re wondering, most of that lunch was terrible!

The view of one side of Kampong Ayer.

Next up?  An explanation of the quiet, odd, and slightly strange Bandar Siri Begawan and what, if anything, can be found in the nation’s capital.