Join me on a behind-the-scenes look at the annual Rainforest World Music Festival, which celebrated its 29th festival in June 2026. Welcoming acts from all over the globe, the headline acts included The Commodores (wth Thomas McClary (USA), Dato’ M. Nasir (Malaysia) and Incognito (UK), as well as Namgar (Mongolia), SambaSunda (Indonesia), Asia7 (Thailand), Benin International Music (Benin, West Africa) Fergana Cultural Ensemble (Usbekistan) and Korrontiza (Basque Region, Spain), to name a few. I can’t wait to see the line-up for the 30th anniversary on 25th to 27th June 2027, at the Sarawak Cultural Village.
It’s stupid o’clock in Kuching, the capital of Sarawak in Borneo. As I’m in the lift heading to my hotel room after a long day and night, I suddenly realise I can’t remember my room number. I think it’s 846, but then again, it could be 848 or 845? I stealthily swipe all three doors, and none respond with a green light. Hmmm, I assume I have the right floor, or I wouldn’t have been allowed access, right?
It’s the last night of a three-week trip of back-to-back famils (familiarisation programs also known as media trips) through Spain and Borneo. I can’t believe I get to do this for a living, and I’ve had the time of my life despite existing on very little sleep thanks to the busy itinerary and jet lag. I’m so fatigued, but I’d trade nothing for the experience of taking a luxurious train through the Andalusian countryside for a week and then attending the Rainforest World Music Festival (RWMF) in Sarawak, about an hour from the capital. I’d also managed to catch up with my sister in Madrid (my new favourite city), like any travel writer always making the most of the airfare.
Less than 24 hours ago, I was in the media pit at the music festival photographing an incredible Malaysian band called Akasha as they plucked the sitar and beat the tabla drum to an enchanted crowd. I often find the audience’s reaction just as fascinating as the performers themselves, so when I turned around to capture their reaction, I spied Thomas McClary from The Commodores grooving away all by himself in the audience. He recognised me from the day before during the press conference, where I’d had a fangirl moment and got a selfie. Magnetic would be the best word to describe the music icon.
With a beaming smile, Thomas beckons me over. Before I know it, I feel like I’m the only person in his orbit as I gush over his performance from the night before until our exchange is interrupted by another fan asking for a selfie. I return to taking photos and notes, very much aware that a potential scoop is within my reach. In this instance, I let the opportunity pass as the superstar seems so blissful in the moment. I can’t bring myself to burst his bubble with an interview request, as he’s enjoying a rare night off before an early morning flight to the US the following morning. As I’m writing this, I’m kicking myself for missing out on a potential interview, but would I have even been able to sell the story?
I’ve been a travel writer for 20 years, and I prefer not to dwell on things I can’t change; nonetheless, I still wonder what would have happened if I had asked for an interview with this year’s festival headline act.
This is my fourth time at the RWMF. There’s a group of returning writers each year, combined with occasional international media who we instantly welcome into the fold. We bond over the chaos and all-consuming heat since it’s always steamy in the rainforest, especially while perched between the huge speakers metres from the performers, who must feel like they’re melting beneath the lights. We’re so close to the stars, they sweat on us, if we’re lucky. Although it’s often hard to tell. Streams of perspiration saturate my clothes and hair, washing away any hope of glamour in the presence of music legends and local photographers and videographers, often tasked with capturing sweaty foreign media like myself as part of the tourism board’s deliverables.
From the outside looking in, it might look like I’m living the dream, and on some occasions, I am. But after spending weeks on the road, including several days and nights on my feet in the rainforest, every cell in my body aches for the comforts of home. I have blisters on my blisters, and I worry that I’ll get trench foot as the damp ground seeps through my sandals. Of course, I have many other concerns too, including the gangs of monkeys who sense my fear. Two king cobras were discovered on the beach a couple of days ago. Although there haven’t been any scorpion sightings this year (at least any that I’m aware of), I give the outcrop I’ve named Scorpion Hill a miss after discovering nests of the beasts only after I had sat there blissfully unaware one year. The gruesome discovery almost stopped the show as arched scorpion tails scuttled amongst the screaming crowd.
Adrenaline powers me through the press conferences, workshops and performances to the point that sleep evades me entirely. I find it impossible to shut down my mind, addled by a kaleidoscope of twirling fabrics from dancers from the Fergana Cultural Group (Uzbekistan), traditional instruments from Namgar (Mongolia/Japan), and sapes from Suk Binie (Sarawak). Star-studded nights don’t end at the concerts as we all stagger back to our rundown hotel in search of alcohol and stories shared beneath Sarawak’s soupy sky.
Back in Kuching post-festival, I slink down to reception seeking a solution to my room predicament. They tell me I’m in number 848 and reprogram my key card. I head back up to the 8th floor, swipe the card, then stand in the doorway, confused. This isn’t my stuff or my room. I cautiously back out, thankful no one is home. I return to reception, where they profusely apologise for the confusion, barely able to hide their amusement at the wild woman of Borneo before them. “No, it is me who is confused, as I’ve been in a lot of hotel rooms lately,” tumbles out of my mouth, realising how bad this must sound to the conservative locals.
As I share this tale with friends and family back home, fellow travel writers regale me with similar tales, while those not in the industry seem to be concerned for my mental health.
Finally, back in the right room, I drift off to sleep with a smile on my face in the knowledge that the next bed I sleep in will finally be my own.
Further reading:
Here are some examples of my published articles and podcast interviews about the Rainforest World Music Festival over the past few years. My article about this year’s festival hasn’t been published yet, by you might enjoy reading and listening to these articles and podcasts: Postcards from Boreno’s longest-running music festival in the rainforest (Onya Magazine); Sarawak: Returning to Sarawak for the Rainforest World Music Festival (Travel Writers Radio); All the things in Kuching: A solo woman’s guide to Sarawak’s Capital (Onya Magazine); Reporter Carmen Jenner loved Sarawak Rainforest World Music Festival (Travel Writers Radio); Maori echoes at Sarawak’s Music Festival in the rainforest (National Indigenous Times); Global Harmony at Rainforest World Music Festival Sarawak (Travel Writers Radio); A guide to the music festival in the rainforest (Common Thread); A Borneo discovery enjoying the Sarawak serenades in the rainforest (Have A Go News).
