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| The American visitors genuinely enjoyed their time in Krayan, especially its local cuisine. Photo: Courtesy of Pagu. |
Nine American students, seven men and two women, recently traveled far from familiar campuses and urban routines to the highlands of Krayan, North Kalimantan.
All of them are university students nearing graduation, accustomed to deadlines, digital platforms, and academic pressure.
What they encountered in Krayan was a radically different learning environment, one shaped not by lecture halls, but by rice fields, cool mountain air, and a community that opened its daily life to strangers.
“Extraordinary,” said Joel, one of the participants, after taking part in the harvest of padi adan, Krayan’s renowned traditional rice. “We joined the rice harvest together with local people. This is a completely new experience for us. The nature and the people of Krayan are incredibly friendly, and we truly enjoyed being here.”
The students did not come as tourists moving quickly from one attraction to another. They came to live, to stay, and to participate.
During their time in Krayan, they shared homes with local families, followed village routines, and learned by observing and doing.
The experience challenged many of their assumptions about comfort, productivity, and what it means to live well.
Harvesting Rice, Sharing Food, Learning Life
One of the most meaningful moments of the visit was participating directly in the padi adan harvest. Unlike industrial agriculture, the cultivation of adan rice is intimate and communal.
Each stage of the process requires patience, cooperation, and respect for nature. For the American students, harvesting rice by hand was both physically demanding and intellectually revealing.
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| One of the most meaningful moments of the visit was participating directly in the padi adan harvest. Photo: Courtesy of Pagu. |
“In the United States, food feels distant from its origins,” Joel reflected. “Here, you see how land, people, and food are deeply connected. You feel it in your body.”
Meals became another powerful form of learning. The students quickly grew fond of adan rice, often called “the Sultan’s rice” because of its fragrance and historical prestige.
Cooked simply and served with local vegetables, the rice became a daily reminder of Krayan’s agricultural wisdom.
Several students joked that they had temporarily forgotten bread, a staple in their everyday lives back home.
The climate also played a role in shaping their experience. Krayan’s highland weather is cool, sometimes even cold at night, offering a sharp contrast to the heat of most tropical regions.
The climate encourages a slower rhythm of life, with mornings unfolding gently and evenings marked by conversation rather than constant digital engagement.
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Over time, the students noticed how the environment influenced social relations. People took time to talk, to listen, and to work together. There was no sense of urgency, yet nothing felt neglected. For many of the students, this balance was deeply striking.
Why Americans Keep Returning to Krayan
This visit was not an isolated event. A similar group of Americans had spent time in Krayan the previous year, raising a simple but important question.
Why does Krayan continue to attract visitors from so far away, particularly those interested in long-term, live-in experiences?
The answers lie in a combination of natural, cultural, and human factors. Krayan remains relatively untouched by large-scale development. Its forests, rivers, and farmlands still form a coherent ecological system.
For students studying environmental studies, anthropology, theology, or development, Krayan functions as a living classroom where abstract concepts become tangible realities.
Equally important is the opportunity to experience culture from within. In Krayan, culture is not staged for visitors. It is lived daily, expressed through farming practices, food preparation, community rituals, and respect for elders. By living with local families, the students were able to experience this culture not as observers, but as participants.
Food played a surprisingly central role in this immersion. Adan rice, vegetables from nearby fields, and locally prepared dishes reshaped their understanding of nutrition and sustainability. Eating became an act of connection, linking soil, labor, and gratitude.
Perhaps most significantly, Krayan offers a rare sense of harmony between humans and nature. The students observed how agricultural practices follow natural cycles, how forests are treated as shared responsibilities, and how community values are maintained without reliance on constant technological mediation.
As the students prepared to return home, many expressed a sense of reluctance. Krayan had offered them more than memories or photographs. It had provided perspective.
For young people standing at the threshold of professional life, Krayan became a reminder that progress does not always mean acceleration, and that success does not always require domination over nature. Sometimes, it begins with learning how to live, patiently and attentively, alongside others.
Krayan may be remote, but for those who experience it through living rather than visiting, its lessons travel far, carried back into classrooms, future careers, and ways of seeing the world that may never be quite the same again.
Guided by Local Leadership and Community Trust
Throughout their stay in Krayan, the young Americans were warmly received, guided, and accompanied by the Head of Ba’ Binuang Village, Pagu Kalvin. His role went beyond formal hospitality. He served as a cultural bridge, ensuring that the students understood local customs, agricultural practices, and social boundaries.
By introducing them personally to village elders and farming families, he created an atmosphere of trust in which learning could occur naturally, without awkwardness or distance. The students were not treated as outsiders, but as guests who were expected to listen, participate, and respect the rhythms of village life.
Pagu Kalvin’s guidance also reflected a deeper ethic of leadership rooted in responsibility and care. He emphasized that welcoming visitors was not merely an act of politeness, but a shared commitment to mutual respect between cultures.
Under his accompaniment, daily interactions became moments of exchange rather than observation. Conversations flowed easily, work in the fields felt purposeful, and differences were approached with curiosity rather than judgment.
For the students, this experience offered a rare example of leadership grounded in humility, where authority was exercised not through control, but through trust and attentiveness to both people and place.
