At first glance, the only thing that’s changed about Kuching since the turn of the century is the smattering of mid-rise buildings that have come up like inevitable pockmarks upon the landscape of any middling city. But look closer, and you’ll see traces of a sleepier life still winding its way through the streets. Kuching’s size is somewhere between a large town and small city, and its relatively compact nature allows for easy access to everything. My friend Sze Lyn, who helps to run Wordsmiths of Kuching, a literary non-profit group of writers and improvisers, says, “everything is twenty minutes away”.
Kuching is also more famously known as the gateway to an incredible array of national parks that dot the lush landscape of Sarawak and the annual Rainforest Festival every August, which is unfortunately seen by most locals as world music for ang mohs (white men).
But there’s an undercurrent of growth that’s beginning to throb in Kuching. Unlike small city counterparts like Georgetown in Penang and Melaka, where echoes of hipster joints have sprung up like inedible mushrooms after a storm, the artisans of Kuching remain original.
Mackerel goes hunting for them.
BOTH LEFT, AND RIGHT