An impromptu day tour of Brunei.

I get off to a bit of a late start, but I’m in no rush.

I take breakfast at the hotel with time to spare before it ends and head upstairs to prepare for the day. I neglect to put on enough sunscreen.

My first stop is the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque, one of two state mosques (the other being the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque) and the largest in Brunei. Named in honor of Hassanal Bolkiah, the 29th Sultan of Brunei, the mosque was opened on 14 July 1994, the Sultan’s 48th birthday.

The domes commemorate the 29 Bruneian Sultans, while the 29 steps of the marble stairs leading up to the prayer hall honour the current 29th Sultan of Brunei, Hassanal Bolkiah. The five daily prayers and five pillars of Islam are symbolized by the five water fountains next to the stairs.

There are a lot more tourists visiting this mosque vs the last, though I don’t need more than two hands to count all the ones I see. I follow two Belgian women into the prayer hall. They’re from a small seaside town near Bruges on a two-week cruise. They’re stopped for five hours in Brunei, Maura Port a thirty minute drive from the mosque. They took a cab from the ship, seeking to maximize their time ashore.

I offer to take their photos and a man tells them that they can lower the hoods of the robes they’ve been given for photos. They’re visibly pleased. As I stand in the visitor section they leave and two more people come and go. A couple with American accents wander the halls.

As I’m leaving I ask if I can take a look at the wudu area. An attendant tells me the bathroom is further down the hall but I just want to see where people conduct their ablutions.

From the mosque I decide to walk the 40 minutes back to the center of town. Luckily the route is lined with trees most of the way, but even so I could have used more sunscreen.

Along the way I pass a crew clearing the sidewalks of grass, cutting back the overgrowth and trimming the edge of the path. Given how wet and sunny it is I imagine it’s a job that’s often required.

I cross the river back into town and stop into the Royal Regalia Museum. There are piles of shoes outside and large groups of older white people. Guides with cards attached to sticks herd their groups off of and onto buses. Inside, representatives of Oceania Cruises call out bus numbers, letting people know that they have only so many minutes before they are to leave.

The museum is relatively packed, and I’m glad that I was able to visit the mosque before the tour groups arrived, if they include it on their itinerary.

Only cell phone photos are allowed inside the museum and I take my time walking through the exhibit halls, admiring the royal regalia and the many halls of gifts bestowed upon the Sultan. Towards the end of my visit I spot a set of tables with boxes laid on them. Inside each is a puzzle, and I decide to enjoy the cool comfort of the aircon and complete one before I leave.

From the museum I pass the Brunei History Centre, housed in the Old Lapau building, the former royal ceremonial hall before it moved to the current Lapau. It’s also where the Constitution of Brunei was formally announced in 1959. I stop in to view the exhibits before continuing south towards the river.

I stop before the Tugu Peringatan Cendera Kenangan to take a photo of the ceremonial arch and then another a bit further on to frame the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque in it.

I’m starting to feel a little peckish and walk over to the Kianggeh Market to see what it has to offer. At this hour it’s all a fresh fruit and vegetable market without a food stall in sight.

I walk down one aisle and back along the parking lot, catching sight of a monkey stealing a sample of durian from one fruit seller. She exclaims and a man with a stick appears to drive them off, but the damage is done and the monkey stroll quietly away with their plunder.

Across the street I stop into the Tokong Chinese Temple, Brunei’s oldest and only existing Chinese temple. The Chinese population arrived in Brunei following the discovery of oil in the 1920s, and now make up 10% of Brunei’s population. The temple itself dates from the 1960s.

Inside it’s quiet. The only person I see mans a desk selling red envelopes and offerings. He’s surrounded by unopened boxes; I assume the temple is stockpiling in preparation for the lunar new year celebrations. He never turns around as I walk around the temple admiring its statury and tiles.

I end up backtracking to Mei Kong cafe for lunch. I had passed it en route to the market; it was packed. On the way there I take an escalator up to a food court in an adjacent building, but nothing looks as busy as Mei Kong. I order tea with my meal and a metal cup of water is placed on my table along with the tea. I mistake it for drinking water; it’s to soak my untensils before using them.

I order a fish and bean dish, though the chicken rice is the move. I watch as piles of yellow rice are delivered to various tables alongside a small plastic tray of chopped chicken. I vow to return to try it.

On the way out I look at a display case placed next to the cashier. Inside there are little baked pastries that look like something my grandmother used to make. I ask what’s inside. Red bean. I take two.

They’re still warm, heating up my palm as I take the bag they’re offered in. Yes, the cashier says. Good to eat now. Outside I sit on the steps of a building in front of a locked door and devour them.

Walking downtown I see a sign for Chasen, a matcha cafe hidden away down a small alley. I go to take a look and, once inside, feel compelled to order a matcha latte. Do you have oat milk? Yes.

The drink is delicious. As I sit near the cash register I watch as a woman presents a loyalty card and I ask for one on my way out. The cashier apologizes for not offering one to me earlier, but I tell her it’s not a problem; it’s unclear whether I’ll be able to drink enough to earn my free drink in the limited number of days I have in Brunei.

Reaching the waterfront a boatman waves me aboard, offering me a one hour tour upriver in search of Proboscis monkeys and then a tour around the floating neighborhood of Kampong Ayer for $40. Remembering incorrectly, I think the boatman the day before offered to take me for $25 for half an hour. I tell him it’s too much and counter with $25. He suggests $30 and I agree. I’m bargaining mostly for the fun of it.

He begins by driving up along the Sungal Kedayan past the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque to the Edinburgh Bridge before turning around and heading up the Brunei River, cruising past the Kampong Tamoi Tengah water village and the Masjid Duli Pengiran Muda Mahkota Pengiran Muda Haji Al-Muhtadee Billah.

Further upriver he points out the golden dome of Istana Nurul Iman, home to the Sultan. I spot a nearby building up on a hill and ask what it is. He tells me it’s all part of the same complex. The Sultan’s home is expansive!

We continue crusing up the river, and I can’t stop smiling. I love the feeling of the wind on my face and the gentle rocking of the boat as it speeds past the mangrove forests. I can’t believe I get to live this life and I’m thrilled to be on the water. I’m happy even if we don’t spot the endangered monkey.

Yusef slows the boat and suddenly points. He’s seen them. He turns the boat and noses into the mangrove forest pointing straight ahead. I don’t see them. Look to where the trees are moving, he tells me. And then I do. There are two sitting in the branches, feeding on young leaves. They’re far but they’re visible. I ask him if they ever come to town and he shakes his head. They like to stay in the forest.

We watch until the monkeys move on, disappearing into the forest. Yusef asks if I’d like to try another spot. We head up the river and turn around and island. It looks like we’ll have no more luck today and he starts to speed back downriver until he calls out. He’s seen a few others in the trees.

He stops abuptly and turns the boat around, pointing them out to me but again, I can’t see them. And then I do, and we watch as they chase each other along the river bank until we lose them in the trees.

Heading back towards the center Yusef drives us through Kampong Ayer, along. broad canal that seems to serve as the thoroughfare through the water village. We pass other boats ferrying people to and fro, waving as we pass.

Yusef drives us towards the edge of the village, slowing so I can get. picture of the Raja Isteri Pengiran Anak Hajah Saleha Bridge. Named after Queen Saleha, the queen consort of the current Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah, the bridge was designed to represent Brunei's Muslim culture, with a dome atop the lone tower mimicking that of a mosque, and plans for a prayer area on the first level.

Yusef turns back towards the waterfront and we’re back almost exactly an hour from when we started. I ask him if he owns the boat (he does) and how long he’s been a boatman. He tells me he works from 0600 to 1800, a long day. He’s been a boatman since he was 12; he’s 46 now.

I wish him all the best for the new year and wave as he reverses and heads back out on the river.

I walk back home, between the malls in the direction of the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque, turning left so that I can walk alongside the park and over the Jambatan Pejalan Kaki Sultan Omar ’Ali Saifuddien, the Sultan Omar ’Ali Saifuddien pedestrian bridge back to the hotel.

I rest for a bit before changing my shirt and walk over to a nearby mall to get my haircut. He asks if I want a shave as well and he spends a good amount of time prefecting my fade and making sure that the shave is as close as he can get it with an electric razor. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t shave with a blade.

For dinner I stop at Thien Thien Batu Satu, a crowded cafe serving local dishes. The menu is posted on the wall. The waitress asks if I want chicken rice. I choose the laksa. Yellow or rice noodles? Yellow.

She brings the dish quickly. It’s made with fish cakes and prawns. She comes back with a small dish of chili paste, which I spoon liberally into the broth. It’s delicious, and I can’t be any happier with my meal.

Shortly after I’m back at the hotel it starts to pour outside. A light rain fell while I was walking back, but now it’s a downpour. The satellite TV can’t keep up and I lose all the channels.

On looking around the room I spot a green arrow pointing towards Mecca. I had forgotten about these, but am happy to have spotted it. It’s another little memory reclaimed from my first visit to the predominantly Muslim countries in Southeast Asia, and I wonder what other little things will unlock memories in the weeks to come. 🇧🇳