Sliding Sideways Across the Globe

I woke sometime around 9ish.As my consciousness slowly crept foward, I could feel the skin on my face tighten around my skull. My arms tingling with tenderness. It had been a long day wandering around Singapore and my skin now resembled a ripe apple, rosy and slightless squishing in all the wrong places.

I remembered seeing some creams in Little India the day before, and proceed to find them again.

Little India street

I wandered back through the streets, clinging to side alleys where the shadows were longer, less the sun release it wrath upon me again. I was glowing.

The backstreets appeared to be in more decay. Dozens of burnt out husks, black and eroded lay abandoned throughout the area, some still wrapped in police tape, others tied with vines as nature reclaimed their shells.

I found the creams in Mustafa and hide on the basement level, lathering my limbs with Alovera cream and then a thick layer of sunblock. I had the feeling I was being watch. Someone staring down at me. I turned to see the store mannequin glaring at me from above. I glanced around the rest of the floor and noticed they all had facial hair either molded onto them or painted in thick black pen.

Tough Mannequin

With my new protective layer, I felt confident to explore once more and made my way on foot back down to China Town. On the way, I ran up and down Sin Lin centre, 6 floors of electronics and computer; each one had staff emploring me to enter, all escalators and elevators manned with girls in mini-skirts handing out photocopied pricelists.

ChinaTown was large and by this stage my battery had worn flat. My memories would not be limited to pictures but the smells of fresh seafood in the bustling fresh food markets, the smooth cold touch of cheap jade statues and ornaments, the bellowing sales pitch of countless tailors offering fine silken suits made to order in 5 hours and shipped across the world. Huge shopping centers stood on every conrer, market stalls weaved into side streets, ice cream vendors sailed with carts; the place was alive with people spending and collecting.

I need some food and began to wander. Everywhere were food centres with cheap curries and asian noodles. After finding one that smelled less offensive, I ate some Brasied Duck noodles for a mere S$3

Food stalls

I sat down in Speakers Corner, a large grass area and listened to various middle aged women single out kareoke numbers while old men played chess and suck on their sweet smelling cigars.

Checkout had been at noon but the pickup bus wouldnt arrive till 10pm. I would spend the rest of the day going on Myster Walking Tours (MWT), picking complete strangers and following behind them until they went somewhere interesting. Its a great way to see places you wouldnt go. In Brisbane it would often lead me to carparks, in Singapore it lead me to an anti-drug dance-off by high school students ...

... State funerals...

... Majestic boats ...

... Huge fountains promising fortunes ...

Wealth Fountain at Suntec Towers

Enter at own risk ... buts its just a park right?

Goodbye Singapore, perhaps one day we will met again one day ...

Famous 1/2 lion, 1/2 fish status, the symbol of Singapore

I dropped off my bags in the room and armed my self with serveal city maps, the Stopover vouchers and S$115.

Allson Hotel room

I decided to start with Little India, the sites, smells and tastes of its namesake, and headed north. The city came to life over the course of a few blocks. Shops began to open, buses were now full and emptied capacity loads on street corners. I crossed the canel into Little India and was immediately hit with the smells of burning incensce drifting from the tiny shop-ettes. Compared with the CBD, this was dirty. Piles of rubbish hugged alleys, odours drifted up from fermenting puddles, shop exteriors were covered in decades of built up grim and smog which looked like a frozen black waterfall on a now grey wall. It was great, a distinct "lived in" look which reminded me of all the student accommodation I have had.

I wandered up Serangoon Road, zigging in and out of the many sidestreets. Bustop advertising models were slowly being replaced by Indian faces. Faded old Bollywood posters lined 2nd story walls. Curry and eateries were everywhere. Old leather men smiled toothlessly as they sipped on their soups and brothes in outdoor eateries. After several blocks near the end stood Mustafa, a 24 hour, 6 storey department store and supermaket in one. It had everything and anything in atleast 10 different brandnames all crammed in. I left to find food.
"Pigs Intestine soup" scream one advertisment. "1 frog soup", "2 frog soup" and just incase you need more frog in your bowl, they even offered "3 frog soup".
Finally I settled on some Mutton curry with naan. It was very satisfing and tasty for a bargin of S$3.

I wandered back towards the CBD and past through a park market filled with men selling odds and sods. Shoes sat next to PC motherboards, apples kept pink hats company. A textile alleyway filled with coloured silks beckoned me over, and as I past through it I crossed the Victoria Street Wholesale center and finally into Little Arab with a large golden Mosque sticking out from behind the trees. I continued down to the famous Rafflers Hotel and into the giant Suntec City Mall with 4 large towers ontop of a sparling shopping arcade.

Skyline in Singapore

My vouchers included unlimited use of a city loop bus and by now my feet needed the rest. I grabbed a coke, found the bustop and waited. There were a large number of Police and camoflarge soldiers on the street corners. Something was going down. I thought about asking them but a voice called behind me, "if your waiting for the SAI Hopon it doesnt stop here." Apparently my new dutch friend had been waiting and just discover that the streets had been blocked off. There was a state funeral for an ex-minister and we would have to try the next stop. Together, we wandered down the North Bridge street and noticed the crowd outside Parliment house. We stopped to watch the procession and show our respects.

Eventually, we got the bus and headed for Singapore river where we went on a boat tour. A recored voice, a lost Steve Irwine twin, enthusiasticly told us about "the amazing bridge where dreams became reality" and "the hotel which is not only great to say but fantasic to look at"

Boats used for the tour

Back on the bus and we were out at the orchard gardens. We walked around the parklands and stopped to appreciate a band practising for a wedding. A mist filled enclosure contained orchards of every shape and shade. Another area was aircondition with a waterfall, high walkway and rocky walls, carnivorious Pitcher plants hugging its face.

I had to return to the hotel. I was hot and sweaty and needed to change. Vulcan Logic Teaching #472 - If you are going to do research on a country and watch the weather conditions for a month, for god sake follow the advise. For some reason, it never occured to me that it would be as hot and humid as it was. My arms were now tender, red and tight. My nose was doing its best Rudolf inpersonation. Why wasnt I immune to Sunburn, I get exposed to enough radition from computer monitors, dont I?

I caught a cab out to the Night Sufari Zoo that night. It was a good 25 minute trip but only cost S$15. Kerosen laterns flicked up and down the pathways and frog and bird calls filled the air. It was 8pm and cooler down to only high 20s (uugh!). I opted not to pay extra for for the train and wandered through the park on foot. The animal enclosures were small but generous, strategically placed spotlights allowed view of the animals while they foraged and play. Inidan alligators, lepeords, giant flying squirals, porcupines were all active and up close. An enclosure contained bats and after scanning the walls, I was still unable to find them. Then I looked up and one hung 40cm above my head. I could have reached out and touch it. I could have run away screaming. I nearly did both. At 10pm I watched the show where Barn owls fly amounst the crowd, a giant python was pulled out from the crowd and otters placed cans and bottles into the correct recycle bins.

By 11pm I was exhausted having been awake for almost 40 hours and walking around for most of the day. The taxi driver gave out advise on things to do tomorrow, China Town, an electrical center, the island playground. He also warned me not to be out in Little India after 12pm. Apparently, men dressed as women wander the streets and are bad. Im not sure wether hes implying Little India was over-run with a Tranvesite Crime gang or wether the local "escort services" were not up to scratch. Either way, I wasnt to find out, I was falling asleep anyway.

Sleep.
Its the time we spend lost in the land of dreams. Cuddled up amoungst pillows and sheets and donnas.

Sleep.
Its God's way of making sure your not up for morning TV informmercials with the worlds greatest skin care products, the latest Ab-fantabuliser and OZ style aerobics.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep ...

Planes are not sleep. Staring at "The Mask of Zorro" on the back of a chair, swollowing chunks of assorted pre-cut melons, sipping on lumpy strawberry yogurt, eating Chicken and Leek pie.

Sleep is not reading Singapore newspapers over peoples shoulders, straining to see out porthole windows or playing thumbwars with yourself over and over only to lose again and again.

The little plane now on the back of the chair says we'll be landing soon. Its 5am Singapore - 28C. My body aches out for a coffee and a stretch. The crew are strapped down; it will all have to wait.

I glide through an empty terminal. Im alert, yet Im not here. I follow my instincts looking for a Stopover counter to collect my vouchers, yet now I discover I have dropped my bags.

I glance up at the Golden Arches before me. I must be tired, McDonalds smells appertising. Behind it I can see the Singapore logo; I check in, drag my bags outside into the thick air and wait.

Sleep.
A shuttle bus pulls up. I board. We take off into the night. Beyond is a tall skyline of bright lights reaching up. I smell saltwater and marshes as we head into its belly.
"Sweet dreams are made of these ..." Why does the radio taunt me so.

The streets are spotless and empty. A few cars are heading back and forth. One driver picks his nose and after a satisfing inspection drives off. Another contains a kid in the back seat who stares at me. I poke my tongue out as we pull away. Im ushered out. Check in is not until 7am and Im given a coffee voucher to kill the remaining voucher. Its not my coffee but within minutes I begin to get my bearings, the feeling in my limbs returns. I write, scrawing chicken strach with my borrowed airline pen to be faithfulyl repoduced online at some point (6:30pm the same night - ED) The blackness outside fades to grey, fades to a cool washed out blue. The coffee is gone as other guests begin to arrive. Its time to find my room before it wears off ...