Departing Singapore & my first afternoon in Brunei.

I’m amazed at the amount of luggage some people are checking in at Changi.

I don’t know what the usual allotment is, but I can’t imagine it covers quite as much as I see the people before me loading onto the scales.

I’ve arrived early. Charlotte had told me I could come later, unless I want to visit the Jewel. As it turns out, I do, hoping to see the world’s tallest indoor waterfall before I leave. On the day we landed it was undergoing maintenance; which according to a sign is supposed to be completed on the 12th.

After dropping off my bag I walk along the skybridge to the Jewel. A couple is taking wedding photos using the relatively empty passageway as a background. I hurry along so as not to end up in frame.

Unfortunately, it seems that it’s not quite the 12th enough. The waterfall remains dry. It’s still an impressive atrium, and I wonder if the water falls 24/7 when it’s active.

The flight from Singapore to Brunei is quick, just enough time to finish a movie and eat a quick lunch before we start our descent. I’m actually surprised that they can complete a full meal service in the two hours we are airborne.

Just before leaving I receive an email from the hotel. I had messaged them over the weekend for an airport pickup and they’ve written back requesting my flight information. We’re just about to push off and I compose a quick message and send it before putting my phone in airplane mode.

Upon landing I check my phone. Thankfully the message sent and a response is waiting for me. A driver will meet me after customs holding a sign with my name on it. But since this is a shared van I may have to wait for up to an hour for the transfer to leave. I’m in no rush.

Immigration is quick; there seem to be few foreigners on the flight and I am soon waiting for my bags at the luggage belt. I spot Oman as I exit customs and ask him if there’s an ATM nearby. He points me in the right direction and waits as I withdraw cash for my stay. There’s. strong smell of KFC, the main restaurant that greets me in the arrival lounge.

I ask Oman how long we’re to wait before heading to the hotel. He leads me to a van and tells me I’m the only one he’s picking up; we’re leaving immediately.

As we pull out of the parking lot he asks me if I’m from Singapore. New York I tell him. Long way. Yes, but I’ve been in Singapore for the past few days dropping my niece off at university. He asks me how long I’m planning to spend in Brunei. Six days, I tell him. Quick trip. He smiles. That’s considered long.

He points out a few of the sights as we pass them: the Gadong night market, the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque, the largest in Brunei.

Near the hotel he points out another mosque and a shopping mall that’s within walking distance of the hotel. I ask if it’s possible to walk to the night market from the hotel. It’s a bit far, he tells me, maybe two kilometers; but I can walk from the night market to the mosque. I ask him how much it would cost to go by Dart. About $5. Can I use a credit card with Dart? He suggests cash. Also, I can use my Singaporean dollars here, the exchange rate is 1:1.

Shasha checks me in at the hotel. I tell her it’s the same name as my mom and she laughs delightfully. The room itself is spacious and cold. I can’t seem to figure out how to increase the temperature and end up cycling it off and on again as the humidity rises. I don’t have anything planned and decide to spend a little time resting alone in my room, relishing the quiet.

But the desire to explore gets the better of me. Following Oman’s words I decide to walk over to the center of Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital of Brunei to visit the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque. From there, I figure I can call a Dart to the Gadong night market for dinner.

Google Maps plots a path that follows the main highway over the river but according to the satellite photos there’s a pedestrian bridge that serves as a shortcut from the hotel. But before I walk through the park to get there I decide to explore the area around the hotel to see what shops and restaurants are nearby, noting the presence of barber shops and supermarkets for later.

When I finally start wandering towards the pedestrian bridge I pass two dogs lazing on a hill. As I reach for my camera to take a picture they get up and start barking at me. So much for that.

The pedestrian bridge crosses the Sungai Kedayan, a small stream which flows towards the Brunei River. It crosses into the Taman Mahkota Jubli Emas, a park that runs along the riverbank, depositing me by a small grove of baobab trees where a group of workers are engaged in gardening. Along the way there are great views of the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque.

I walk along the permeter of the small pond that butts up against the back of the mosque and follow the main road into town.

I walk through a shopping mall and down a pedestrian street that runs between it and another mall towards the waterfront. There, a man asks if I’d like to do a tour of the water village and up the river in search of proboscus monkeys. Thirty dollars for an hour. Maybe tomorrow, I tell him. Today I just want to walk around. He comes back with twenty five. Tomorrow, I say again, and continue my exploration of downtown.

It’s a warm humid day and I walk through one of the malls on my way back towards the mosque. I’m happy to find a soft-serve ice cream shop and order the monday special, a vanilla and mango twist, which I enjoy sitting on a bench just opposite from the counter.

Back outside it’s a short walk to the min entrance of the mosque, opposite the Taman Haji Sir Muda Omar 'Ali Saifuddien, a park where significant state ceremonies are held, including the Sultan's birthday celebrations. I’m curious how packed the park becomes, Brunei being a country of just under half a million people.

At the mosque I’m the only visitor and manage to slip in with ten minutes to spare before they close it to non-Muslims for the day. The entrances are separated, and non-Muslim visitors are accorded only a small area in which to stand, but with a perfect view of the prayer hall.

After admiring the interior I walk around the complex to admire the architecture and that of the Department of Mosque Affairs, just across the street. As I leave the mosque itself a man comes to turn the visitor sign around; closing it to non-Muslims.

It’s been a very quiet afternoon and I wonder how packed the mosque gets at its busiest. I sit on a bench facing the entrance and pull out my phone to call a Dart to take me to the Gadong night market. I had thought about saving it for later, eating dinner closer to the hotel so I can walk home, but curiosity gets the better of me and I’m excited to try some local foods. The driver requests a photo of where I am and I walk to the front gate to take an as accurate picture as I can. When he arrives I’m the only person standing there. I’ve been the only person standing there.

We drive past the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque back along roads I’ve taken from the airport. There’s a steady line of cars entering the parking lot for the night market and the driver leaves me off at the front entrance.

It’s a simpler market than those in Singapore, the stalls almost interchangeable with open tiled cooking and prep areas behind the service counters. I love it.

I decide to do a loop before I decide, finding a fruit market on the far side of the market away from the prepared foods. I’m tempted by the grilled fishes, but note a long line in front of one stall selling fried chicken and rice.

In the fresh fruit section I stop before a stand selling mangosteens. The hotel forbids me from bringing them back to eat but I can’t pass up the opportunity to eat them. They’re my favorite fruit.

Ziah, dressed in a purple Baju Kurung that matches the outer shell of the fruit, tells me she can sell me a dollar’s worth as I have to eat them here. As much as I’d love to I’m not sure I can—or should—eat an entire kilo in one sitting. She reminds me hotels ban them. I ask her if she knows why. She tells me it’s because the skin stains the sheets and towels. She selects a few and places them in a plastic bag. The cost comes out to 1.50 but she won’t take the two bills I offer her, slipping just one from my fingers in payment.

For dinner I join the lines in front of the Nasi Katok stall. The name of the dish means ‘knock rice,’ referring to the tradition of customers knocking on vendors' windows to order. The rice is placed first in paper cones and when I reach the front a woman asks if I’d like chicken or lamb. I choose chicken and she motions to the trays in front of me to select a piece. She asks me what sauce and I point to one the woman before me had selected asking what it is. Sweet and spicy, I am told. I nod. She places the chicken in the cone and scoops some sauce on the side, swiftly wrapping it up and placing it in a plastic bag.

I take my meal and search for an empty table, ultimately asking a man sitting alone if I can join him. I haven’t been given utensils and so I do my best to eat the rice with my hands. I do a much better job than I expect, having learned from my experiences in Sri Lanka.

The man asks me if I’m from Singapore and asks if I’m here on business. No on both accounts. He seems surprised by my answers, telling me I’m a long way from New York. He’s from Malaysia, having come for work.

I finish my meal and start twisting open mangosteens for dessert, offering him one before I finish them. He points to a trash bin where I can throw out my trash and I wash my hands in a nearby basin.

Durian is in season and the stalls at the end are full of them. Their scent permeates the air. It’s another item that I can’t bring back to the hotel, not that I’m particularly keen to. They don’t hold a candle to mangosteen, IMHO.

Leaving the market I cross the street to walk around the Gadong night market fun fair. I’m mostly curious to see what other food stalls there might be and to find a better place from which to catch a Dart, but I’m happy to be able to wander the grounds even if none of the rides or games are staffed with attendants.

Looking across the Sungai Menglait, a small canal, I can see a hotel on the other side. It looks like there’s a mall attached to it and I decide it’s a better landmark from which to hail a Dart and, if I’m lucky, I might find some postcards to write.

Along the canal there are signs warning of crocodiles. A few small groups sit on a set of concrete steps that lead towards the water, unpreturbed.

At the hotel they’re setting up flowers in the lobby. There’s a Nikah ceremony (the sacred Islamic marriage contract and religious wedding ceremony) on the 8th floor and I wonder if the flowers are being arranged for that. Or for a dinner that may follow.

I walk from the hotel lobby into the mall and am fortunate enough to find a souvenir shop with postcards. I pick up a few and write some from the hotel lobby before deciding it’s time to go home.

We drive once again past the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque and I decide that it’ll be my first stop in the morning. Oman had told me that it accepts non-Muslim visitors before 1100 and I intend to be one of them.

Back at the hotel I’m surprisingly exhausted. It’s not even 21h and I can barely keep my eyes open. I decide not to fight my body and get ready for bed, excited to be in a new country, excited to see what the new day will bring. 🇧🇳