The festival is held in the Sarawak Cultural Village, a 40-minute drive from Kuching on the Damai Peninsula, nestled between the South China Sea and the majestic Santubong Mountain. You can stay in the city and make your way out each day on your own steam or on the shuttle, but make the most of it by staying at the nearby Damai Beach Resort.
The walk from my beachfront room to the village was, at best, a five-minute stroll. Or as I opted for on that smotheringly humid first day, an embarrassing two-minute ride in the hotel's free shuttle.
In an ideal world, I would have spent the first hour or two familiarising myself with the venue. But with a beetroot-red face and my freshly straightened hair a frizzy tangle of knots, I made a beeline for the air-conditioned theatre.
On stage was a woman dressed in black dancing and balancing bowls in each hand. Behind her sat six men keeping time with sticks which they beat on their own bowls.
For a fleeting second, I wondered if I'd cope with three days of world music. But as the beats from Talago Buni began to intensify, so did my interest.
And as the Indonesian collective's set came to a crashing crescendo, literally, with the smashing of bowls, it struck me that music festivals should never be about ticking boxes. It's not about seeing "so and so" on "such and such" a stage. It's an experience.
That's exactly why New Zealand taonga puoro composer and practitioner Horomona Horo returned to the festival this year. Horo first performed in Sarawak with Moana and the Tribe in 2009 and says he was impressed by the diversity of the artists and bands.
"The range of styles and genres, and the cultures was awesome. I know you see that at a number of festivals now, but you didn't see it then," he says.
Back on his own, Horo drew a decent crowd to his afternoon session on the first day in the theatre, when he introduced the audience to a range of traditional Maori instrumentation.
And while a staid lecture theatre might not have been the most appropriate place to hear the delicate and distinctive sounds of New Zealand's native birds, it was air-conditioned.
Horo was suffering from the heat too. I caught up with him the next day at breakfast, where artists eat alongside festival-goers.
"The setting is beautiful. During the day you hear birds and at night you hear bats," he says. "You've got the bush and the ocean. There are many things that make you feel at home. One of them is not the weather," he laughs.
"It was 40-plus and 70 or 80 per cent humidity when I arrived. I've been here three days and I'm still struggling just walking from my room to the dining room. The sweat was pouring down my face on that stage."
Traditional dress is the norm. Photo / Getty Images
Horo says the international festivals he attends attract a more varied line-up than they did five years ago, but he believes the Rainforest World Music Festival stands out as one of the most diverse.
"You have folk rock from the UK on one stage, then you bounce over to another one and hear mixtures of Cuban music and then back to the other stage and all of a sudden, you're in South India. What we're seeing with all of these groups is the heartbeat of their music."
During the day, you could come and go from the theatre, move throughout the village taking part in workshops, from clogging (foot stomping) to interactive Malay dance and Basque drumming. I intended giving clogging a go with Gordie MacKeeman and the Rhythm Boys from Prince Edward Island but found myself back in the theatre for the brilliant Ding Yi Music Company from Singapore - no crowd participation involved, which suited this reserved Kiwi just fine.
I did, however, get close to the middle of the 5pm community daily drum circle. It was purely for reportage purposes, of course. You need to be among it to really understand why these travellers from all walks of life throw caution to the wind and pick up a tambourine or a Congo drum and dance like a person possessed. And, by and large, sober, I might add.
At night, on one of the two main stages I saw my musical highlight - a four-piece from Ukraine called DakhaBrakha. Dressed in full traditional garb which, for the three women, included impressive elongated woollen hats, they delighted the crowd on the second day.
Their sound is built on a foundation of traditional Ukrainian folk, but incorporates
a fusion of other influences, including R 'n' B and even rap. In the band's own words, it's "ethno chaos".
I hope DakhaBrakha makes its way to Womad in New Zealand in the not too distant future, because they were wonderful.
It's not just about the music, though. Sarawak Cultural Village is a working community and the tribal houses dotted throughout are homes to local families. The trees, meanwhile, are home to Sarawak's monkeys and as cute as they may look swinging in the trees, you're strongly advised not to get too close.
If you're staying at Damai Resort, you will encounter a cat or two, maybe 20 if you're in a room close to their feeding station. Malaysians believe cats are good luck and the translation for the nearby city of Kuching is "cat".
The music doesn't kick off until around 2pm so you have time to explore the area or book yourself into the Santubong Spa and Retreat. I visited the spa on the hill twice, once for a foot massage and the second time for a facial.
Again it was purely for reportage purposes but I did hope it would help with acclimatising.
Barbara at reception shared her recipe for Ketumbar tea (crushed coriander seeds, ginger and screw pine) to help detoxify and improve blood circulation.
Barbara was born into the Iban tribe of Sarawak so was able to imparted a few local tips, including don't swim in the sea before 5pm.
"Salt water crocodiles or water snakes?" I asked. "No, the water is too hot for swimming," said Barbara.
The resort has two pools and even though the beach is a no-go during the day, it's packed with people at night - a mix of locals and tourists and the odd random performance artist. I caught two acrobatic fire twirlers one night just after sundown.
The beach is only a short walk from the festival site and you can come and go as you please, unlike many other festivals where you are locked in for the day. It made such a difference being able to pop to the ocean side to catch a cool breeze or even pop back to your room to freshen up.
Equally recommended as a way of cooling down was an ice-cold beer and tents were scattered across the site. The cost of a can was ridiculously cheap, so you had to be careful in that kind of heat. But there was a remarkable lack of drunken loutish behaviour so familiar at other festivals, probably because water was the real sought-after commodity. If you're not sipping on it all day, you're a goner.
A few other dos and don'ts - I'm told you're most at risk of catching dengue fever from mosquitoes during the day so coat yourself in insect repellent day and night. You need sun block too, as well as a rain poncho, because thunderstorms can come from nowhere and did exactly that on the third day.
Don't expect WiFi in your room at the resort. You can access it in the hotel lobby but it's hit and miss so if you're planning on posting bragging shots and selfies, prepare to spend a bit on roaming.
If you have naturally curly hair but straighten it, expect to look like a poodle for three days, and if you're not good in the heat - as you've no doubt gathered by now, I am not - just accept your face will be sweaty, red and blotchy for most of the festival.
Which leads me to to my final piece of advice - come with a smile and an open mind. You will talk to strangers from all over the world, you will stumble across sounds you never thought possible and you will see artists and bands you will never see again. You may also find yourself participating in what would normally seem to be the oddest of activities.
But try it. It's worth it.
IF YOU GO
The Rainforest World Music Festival will be held again next year from August 7 to 9.
Paula Yeoman travelled courtesy of Tourism Malaysia and Malaysia Airlines.
