One last day (and night) in Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei.

I had debated doing a tour of the oil fields on my last day in Brunei, but I’m glad I decided against it. Instead, I spent the morning writing and editing, catching up on my Brunei entries, going back to work on some previous ones. I’m still really far behind in my writing.

Around lunchtime I packed it up and walked to the city center. The streets were quiet and shops were closed. I had forgotten that the Friday Jumu'ah service is considered one of the most important for Muslims, and in Brunei the city shuts down in observance of this sacred assembly..

Along the way the gate to the small hillside cemetery beside the river is open and I take the opportunity to take a look, climbing the hill up to a sign that points towards Mecca in between the weathered old gravestones.

The night before I had walked to a Japanese-Italian restaurant for dinner. The pizzas looked amazing. Near the restaurant, in a residential part of town, I saw a woman driving around with her child in tow. As I tried to pass one house a group of stray dogs started barking, coming close to me and ripping my pants with their claws.

The woman stopped to warn me about them. She saw them trying to bite me and told me that they had chased her down the street in the past. The power in her house had gone out and she was driving around the neighborhood to see if hers was the only one.

She asked me where I was headed and I told her Napori. It’s closeby she said. Yes, it should be just around the corner but I’m not sure how to get past the dogs. She told me to get in; she’d drive me.

She asked me where I’m from, a little surprised that I’m so far from home. She introduced herself as Yun; her daughter’s name sounded like Yasing. She’s from Malaysia, now married to a local Bruneian. She asked me about public transportation in Brunei, suggesting it’s not quite as convenient as it could be. I tell her Dart has been great; I’ve only decided to walk for the exercise.

She turns a few corners and, as she said, the restaurant is closeby. She drops me off and I thank her for the ride. She waves as she drives off, checking once more for electric lights.

The cafe is closed when I arrive. I check the time, it’s just past 1330 and I take a seat at one of the outside tables to wait for it to open. At 1401 two people appear, dressed alike, and unlock the door, leaving it open to allow me in.

I order a Thai chicken pot pie and a flat white. I ask the cshier what her favorite dessert is and I add it to my order.

After lunch I head downtown in search of a tailor, passing once again the Tokong Chinese Temple. A bus passes by and I think back to a conversation I had with the Austrian the day before. He asked me how I got around town; he had tried taking the bus, but they never seemed to come.

I find a tailor near my favorite downtown restaurant and ask if he can mend my pants. Thirty minutes, he tells me. It’ll cost me 2$. A woman bids me wait and I tell her I’ll be back.

I walk to the waterfront and ask a boatman how much it will be to take me across to Kampong Ayer, the water village on the other side of the river. One dollar, he tells me, and I board. Along the way he offers to take me on a tour upriver in search of the monkeys and around the village.

He tells me he’ll offer me a good price. I tell him I had already done the tour two days before. He tells me that walking around the water village is hot and that maybe I’ll change my mind after as a way to cool off. I laugh. Perhaps!

It’s amazing walking the raised boardwalks around the various buildings and homes of Kampong Ayer. Here and there the boards are worn and slightly warped, and I resolve to pay attention while I’m walking, careful to stop and steady myself before taking photographs.

The ruined homes are even more impressive as they exhibit the care with which it takes to build a home. The exposed floors and frames show how fragile some of the constructions may be.

I’m uncertain exactly how to get back to the mainland, but once I make my way to another jetty a boatman spots me and heads towards me. His name is Saidee, born and raised in Brunei of an Indonesian mother and a Malaysian father. He asks me how long I’ve been traveling and is surprised at my answer. He asks me how much longer. I shrug. We’ll see what happens. He laughs and waves after he drops me off, reversing his boat back into the river.

I check the time and count the bills I have left, debating whether to take another trip upriver in search of Proboscis monkeys. I head back to the tailor where he has my pants ready for me. I tell him it’s perfect and thank him for his work.

I head one last time to Chasen for my favorite oat milk matcha latte in Bandar and am greeted by one of the cashiers. Welcome back! she says. I tell her it’s unfortunately the last time this trip as I’m to leave tomorrow. After I finish my drink I thank her and tell her I hope to see her again, wishing her Salam walekum as I exit through the door.

I walk back to the hotel and take a quick dip in the pool. It’s just re-opened yesterday and I’m glad for the opportunity to cool down in it. A wedding is taking place on the second floor and as I head to and from the pool I take a peek through the open door. The bride wears a crown, posing for pictures with various people, one serious photo followed by others where they ham it up.

Just before sunset I call a Dart to take me back to the Gadong night market. It’s where I had my first meal in Brunei and it’ll be where I’ll have my last. En route we pass the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque and this car is one of the few that don’t have shades in the windows, allowing me to take some clear photos as we pass.

I’m going back to the market mainly to visit Ziah. I want to buy more mangosteens from her. She tells me she’s just arrived and I’m happy to have caught her. I tell her I’m leaving tomorrow and she asks me what time. It’s too early to see her again. She wishes me well and hopes that I’ll come back to visit her again. I tell her she’ll be my first stop whenever I am back in town.

While walking around the stalls a woman approaches me, a small sum of one dollar bills in her outstretched hand. You or your friend dropped this, she says. I pull out the change given to me by the Dart driver. It’s not mine, I tell her. I have no friends.

With mangosteens in hand I find a spot at a table populated by an older couple. They make room for me and I offer them mangosteens, which they refuse. They ask me where I’m from and I point to my cap. New York.

As I peel my first mangosteen two women walk by, eyeing the fruit in my hands. I offer one to them and they at first refuse, but then pause. I press it into their hands and they seem almost giddy with delight at the gift I’ve bestowed upon them.

After my meal I walk to the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque. It’s the other reason I’ve come to the night market. It’s the first clear night I’ve had since the night I arrived and I want to take advantage of it to take photos of the mosque illuminated in the dark.

I walk along the highway, taking photos from an overpass before making my way to the mosque and through the gates to the parking lot. Services are underway and I can hear them broadcast through speakers set up around the mosque.

From the Jame' Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque I call a dart to take me to the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque. The driver, double-checking my destination, verifies that I’m going from one mosque to another. Yes, I tell him. I’m doing a mini tour of the city by night.

He asks me if I’ve been to the water village and whether I’ve seen the monkeys. Yes to both; I tell him I spent part of the afternoon walking on the wooden planks of Kampong Ayer and that I saw the monkeys the day before, but from afar. He tells me he likes the mosque I’ve just come from more than the one I’m headed to, and tells me about a new mosque that’s opened some 30 minutes away, serving a new neighborhood that’s become popular in recent years.

He’s excited about the World Cup and I ask him what his team is. He tells me it depends, but since he’s a fan of the Premier League, he guesses he’s going to root for England. I ask him who is team is in the Premier League. It’s Liverpool. Didn’t they just play yestrday? Two days ago, he says. I thought I saw it on TV.

The mosque is beautiful lit up at night, reflected in the pool. I’m glad to have finally seen it at night, the cherry on top of an incredible visit to Brunei Darussalam.

I walk through the small park that sits in front of the mosque. Go karts and other vehicles have been set up for children, but none seem to be around or interested in them.

Looking out at the BIBD Frame Brunei Darussalam, I finally realize that it’s set up to frame the mosque and I walk out towards the river to have a look.

From the frame I walk to the Sultan Omar ’Ali Saifuddien Pedestrian Bridge crossing it one last time to get to the hotel. Heading in the direction of the hotel I can see it illuminated just behind the apartment complex next to it. Turning around, I catch one last glimpse of the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque and the city of Bandar Seri Begawan.

I’ve had an amazing time in Brunei Darussalam; it’s far exceeded any expectations I had. I can’t say when I’ll be back, but it’ll be a happy day when I do. And I’ll be excited to see Ziah, and the woman at the tea shop, if she happens to still be working there. I have a few stamps left before my free drink. 🇧🇳