Singapore
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| 24 November | Singapore |  |
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"When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen to you: either there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly." -Patrick Overton |
But for now, it is a time to reflect. A 14-hour flight to Tokyo provides plenty of time for that, crammed into seat 52H with the other sardines. "Would you care for a beverage?" Two shots of Nyquil, and the darkness descends. Sleep now, it whispers, let your body heal, the mind will wait...
| 26 November | Singapore | |
I arrived last night close to midnight. I arrived at a similar time my first time here, and spent half the night walking from place to place fruitlessly searching for a bed. Rather than repeat that sweaty slog again, I used the free phones at the airport to call around to the various budget hostels and hotels until I found one that was still open and had room. By this time, it was after midnight, and the buses no longer ran. No problem, an airport taxi sweeps me down the empty garden expressway into the city. I checked into my hostel, took a refreshing cold shower, and fell into a deep sleep.
Singapore itself doesn't hold much interest for me. Even still, I am considering moving here after this trip to work for a time. A clean, modern city; for the casual visitor without an interest in shopping, it is simply a convenient and comfortable launching point. For me, it would make an easy gateway to travelling around Asia. While I was sitting in an internet café checking my email and my contacts for jobs, I struck up a conversation with a friendly Canadian sitting next to me. Without warning, I was plunged into the expat community of Singapore. Gordie had also just flown in last night. He is in the process of moving to this city, but has friends and family living here to help him out. As we searched the streets for a hawker food centre, a girl calls his name from a passing taxi. His cousin, whom he hasn't seen for at least 10 years, steps out of the car. A flurry of greetings and introductions then follow, which results in the three of us walking to her office and going to lunch with a crowd of fellow expats. These weren't the corporate, expense account kind, however. These were enterprising students who had simply flown over here on their own and found work. Most of this lot were architects, but a couple were computer consultants. A lunch of chicken rice (typical Singapore cuisine) was consumed over talk of expensive flats, Xmas bonuses, the declining Asian market, and the haze. For over 3 months this city has been shrouded. A smog so thick, even a light at the end of the block was too dim to see. The Singapore government had supposedly artificially lowered the health warning to make it seem less severe than it was. But this week was the first sun they had seen in months. As for the housing situation, flats here cost at least S$2000 for a decent place, so many expats (hired locally) share flats, paying only about S$400-600 each. That sounds manageable.
After lunch, Gordie and I bought a paper to search for work, but the lunch time crowd at Raffles Place distracted me too much to concentrate. Chinese, Malay, Indian, European, it was a mix that provided great people watching potential. Full suits are a rarity in this town. Sleeves rolled up, ties loose around the neck, western fashion never seemed quite so ludicrous given the local climate. Exotic languages and accents rolled past my ears. I kept catching quick flashes of strange scents, colours ranging from pure black and white to sensuous silk saris. And everywhere bold, beautiful Asian women strolled confidently about, fashionably dressed and made up to perfection.
But enough for now. Jet lag and my remaining cold were forcing me to struggle to stay awake. It's past midnight now after all, my body says. I took my leave and walked back to my place. Along the way, I walked down Boat Quay. It is a popular Expat social center. A series of cafés and bars are strung along a waterfront that could have been seen anywhere. Happy hours are popular and people come here looking for fun.
I returned to my poor quarters and slept.
| 27 November | Singapore | |
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"If you're going to change your life, do it immediately, do it flamboyantly, and make no exceptions." - From an unknown traveler's collection of quotes |
It was a very good evening. It was scary. Matt had read my entire RTW journals only weeks before, and knew all about me before I even contacted him. Almost the first thing Sybil asked me was "Let's see the scars!" We drank a couple expensive beers over some good talk of travels. It was rather strange when I thought of it. Here was someone who was also in contact with Marc, who had also contributed to the FAQ, who knew more about my travels than my own friends, and yet we had just met. They were an interesting couple, though, and we had a good chat.
| 28 November | Singapore | |
In the evening, we went to see Seven Years in Tibet. I had mixed feelings about it. I had seen the film before I left home with Angela. Liz was excited, because much of the movie was filmed in Argentina, and she had even seen some of the filming a couple years back. It had much more impact seeing it here in Singapore, knowing Tibet was only a short, and very possible, flight away. And the Chinese subtitles added to the effect as well. But I kept forgetting where I was and had to keep catching myself before putting my arm around Angela/Liz. That upset me, so I went home afterwards, took a cold shower to cool off, and right to bed.
| 29 November | Singapore | |
After the zoo, we paid Orchard Rd a visit. Liz wanted a walkman, and we faced a bewildering display of models and prices. No two shops carried the same walkmans, and prices for similar ones ranged from S$35 - S$215! This is not a place to shop if you don't know what you should pay. "OK, what you want to pay? I give you good price!"
| 30 November | Singapore | |
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| Liz hunting for bargains |
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I, of course, then went right to the nearby aircon Raffles Centre to cool off from the heat. I spent the rest of the day wandering around Orchard Rd.
| 2 December | Singapore | |
But the Expats had more to show me than a bloody basement. We met up with Matt next to find lunch. We sat down at a place that could have been anywhere in India. A quick exchange between Matt and the waiter quickly brought a delicious South Indian dish. Not sure exactly what it was, but it contained a dish of wrapped veggies, potatoes, and spices, set alongside several sorts of curries. My travels in India had prepared me for the experience, my left hand in my lap, my right passing the delicious meal to my mouth, keeping the food below the knuckles.
The working stiff had to return to the rat race, and Sybil had translations to do learning Chinese, so I bid them adieu and went shopping again. The Paradiz Center had all I desired today. A packed used bookstore and a high tech camping gear shop, Camper's Corner. The camping shop had loads of gear, yet I found a disturbing problem with their Mountainsmith packs. Their usually high quality packs literally dissolved under my fingers, lash points and compression straps slipping their stitches and coming free. All other gear seemed rock solid, yet that one problem paled the shop in my eyes.
When I stepped outside the shop, a distant roaring reached my ears. I turned the corner and looked out through, or rather at, a silver curtain of water. So hard you couldn't see through it, the rain drowned the city. Most local Singapore people carried umbrellas, but they were worthless against deluge such as this. I waited for an half hour in the doorway of the mall, but the rain did not slacken. Finally fed up, it was time for my rain dance. Just singing in the rain... Immediately drenched, I chose to maintain what little dignity I had left as people gaped at my sodden figure ambling brightly through the puddles rather than madly dashing to shelter as others were wont to do. Too many people forget as they grow older the pleasure that comes from splashing in a nice deep puddle.
*splash* *splash* *splash* I reached Sybil and Matt's apartment not long afterwards and dripped on their doorstep as I rang their bell. My shirt stuck to my skin and everything but the inside of my (plastic lined) daypack was soaked through. Luckily, their marble floor easily shed the moisture, and they took me in without a fuss. I wonder what monsoon season is like around here?
My host and hostess are a congenial pair. Chatting and arguing about how they should take their trip around the world, the value of Sybil's time versus keeping occupied at a not-so-well-paying job, and where we should eat this evening. Just before the food courts closed, we made our decision and dashed out to the nearby malls for some local, very cheap, cuisine.
Matt gets occasional impulses, he informed me, a strong desire to perform a Tarot reading upon meeting certain people. From the moment he received my first email, he had wanted to do one for me. Why not? And so the evening was spent with the cards. A draw full of major arcana cast a pessimistic light on an issue near to heart, but the Advice for the immediate future was disturbingly close to home. The Moon. A dark card, a disturbing sign. "Follow insanity," Matt translated, "howl at the moon." A time of searching, to follow the stars. My words of the first day repeated back at me.
I spent a cool aircon night in their place, sleeping like the dead.
| 3 December | Hat Yai, Thailand | |
But I'm not travelling this time.
Scenes from a Singapore MRT:
The train pulls into the station. A wall of glass separates passengers from the tracks. Two sets of doors open. I quickly find a seat and breathe a sigh of relief as the cool air con envelops me. Two beautiful, stylishly dressed Chinese girls sit opposite me. An older couple stands in the aisle, staring confused at a messily folded map and muttering in French. "Ou somme nous?" On the spotlessly clean floor, two Indian girls sit and study their schoolbooks, their bright blue skirts and white blouses startling the eye amongst the darker colors everyone else wears. A few shabby looking Malay workers stare into space until reaching their stop, then shuffle off. A bus would take over an hour during the daytime traffic to reach the airport, but the efficient MRT speeds us on our way.
©Copyright 1996-2001 Seán Connolly