Confessions of a Pillion Rider

I have only ridden on motorcycles driven by two people in my life - my father and Sina Mayda.

I remember seeing the Styrofoam insides of my father's helmet as I put it on when I was younger, and how the black fabric fastener always stained my chin black. I remember holding onto his waist while he fetched me to the kindergarten. I remember how tightly I clung onto him when we reached the kindergarten and me yelling through my sobs 'I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOOOOOL!' while my teachers had to pull me away from him.

My father sold his motorcycle when I was 12, because he often met in minor motorcycle accidents, and my parents agreed that his safety is more important compared to saving fuel money. I never got the chance to ride on motorcycles since then.

One day in Bario, my sina decided to bring me to Pa Umor, her hometown on her motorcycle. After so many years of not riding on motorcycles, I was happy I got the chance to be a pillion rider again. This ride however, was not how I imagined it to be. Having watched so many Korean dramas, I always fantasized and thought that my next bike ride will be super cool, like speeding on the highway with a hot dude or a kick-ass biker chick into the night.

Moon Chae-Won from Nice Guy.
So. Much. Badassery.

Of course, in reality, things are much less cooler. I went up the bike and held onto the plastic frame of the motorcycle at the back, because I felt awkward holding onto her, but she kept telling me, "Duduk dekat saya lagi, letak tangan di sini (gesturing at her waist). Jangan ambil belakang motor, nanti jatuh! (Sit closer to me, hold onto my waist. Don't hold onto the bike, otherwise you will fall!)". I held her waist gingerly and off we went on the bumpy, rocky Arur Dalan road. She went at around 30 km/h (actually I don't know what was the actual speed, because the needle of the speedometer always pointed at 0 regardless of how fast she drove). I didn't wear a helmet because helmets are too mainstream.  Instead, the wind rushed through my hair as I enjoyed the view of the wide paddy fields with white storks flying over them and farmers harvesting.

Bad ass level: you be the judge.

A little introduction to Pa Umor: It is another village away from Central Bario, and Arur Dalan is located in Central Bario.

A cemented road in Bario.

After around 20 minutes of riding on bumpy rock roads, smooth cemented roads, tricky mud roads, a bridge over a river, we reached Pa Umor. It was very windy that day and the scenery was so pretty, Bario blew the cap off my head (both figuratively and literally; Bario means 'wind' in Kelabit). I panicked and didn't know what to do, because I didn't want to say something that sounded so foolish to her but at the same time, I was worried that a buffalo might chew my cap away. After much contemplation and when we were quite far from the spot where my cap was blown off me, only then I told sina what happened. As expected, she exclaimed, "Kenapa tadi tak cakap dengan sina? (Why didn't you tell me earlier?)" and turned the bike around for me to retrieve my cap. So much for not wanting to sound foolish, huh. Well done, Rui Ci.

I met her family in Pa Umor and the house that she and her husband is currently in the process of building. They are planing to turn it into a homestay once construction is complete. Next to the unfinished house is a plot of land where she plants pineapples and tapioca. We had lunch in Pa Umor before heading back to Arur Dalan.

Welcome!

The unfinished homestay.

The Pa Umor church

On our way back, I finally saw them. I saw how the mountains enveloped the houses, plantations, and paddy fields. I saw why people who visit Bario are charmed. I saw what I will forever remember oh-so-fondly about Bario. I leaned forward to sina and told her, "Bario is beautiful."