Why go to Singapore?

Singapore is one of the two (or according to some, 3 or maybe 4) Asian nations recognized as 'Developed Nations', and that reflects in how the only 'beggar' we met over two trips over the last
two years ran after us to return the 10 cent coin - that's a decent 5 Indian rupees - we gave him. Everywhere in Singapore, depending on how you look at it, you see either beauty or artifice, calm order or repression, freedom or fear.

Do not get me wrong - for someone from India, the place stuns with its cleanliness, good-smelling
people, amazing infrastructure and smooth roads and... I could go on for a long time. However made up it seems, Singapore's attractions custom-constructed for the tourist provide some decent experiences. And experiences are what I am after. Thrill rides, big fish, weird birds, cuddly animals, tall trees, new food, cloud forests, beautiful people, odd buildings, abstract art - everything is jammed into 710 sq. km of space (that's the same size as Bangalore and half the size of London). The Singapore Tourism Board does a stellar job of marketing all the weird and wonderful things they have created, so you can look them up on the Internet. I am going to talk about the stuff you wouldn't normally find in the travel information websites.

Singapore for the well-heeled tourist is a blast - jump in from an air-conditioned (AC) car to an AC mall to an AC tour bus to an AC signature restaurant. For the others, it can be a little tough. The taxi fares have an unnerving tendency to more than double at certain times and certain places. (They call it ERP). To avoid taxis, don't try to drive in Singapore unless you are very clear about the meaning of broken vs complete vs two yellow lines vs many other complex signs painted on the road and on either side. Break a rule, and you may pay a fine that would leave you kicking yourself. Not that it's that easy to get a car and drive around anyway! :) Use the efficient public transport system. The short walk to the bus stop or the MRT could be fantastic - except that even a 5-min walk in the hot, humid weather is bound to get you a quite sweaty and sticky. But that's the deal for the normal tourist.

Singapore's people seem to have put on the pounds. Over the last few years, the chubby men have become chubbier and normal and overweight women can actually be spotted in the street. The anorexic women are still around, though not in full force as before. I have no statistical proof - this is merely random observation while sitting at a McDonald's outlet (yes I get the irony!) near my sister's home in one part of Singapore.

Now, there are some things about Singapore that I do enjoy. My husband loves the little mall next to the National Library with its fantastic art materials for sale. (I heard they are threatening to close it down and convert it to something else though). The National Library has a garden on the 5th floor or maybe the 8th). That's something too. I am always drawn to Bugis street - maybe it is just the bargains. Maybe it is the colorful history of blood-thirsty pirates and beautiful transwomen. Maybe just a whiff of the lawlessness of the previous era lingers in the air. All that remains today of Bugis Street's history is a glammed-up mention of the Bugis people in the glass-topped Bugis Mall (or is it Bugis Junction? Or Bugis Street? Or Bugis something else?). Looks like they are keen on capitalizing on the evil pirates' reputation. The Buginese have surely turned in their graves many times by now.

In spite of my disdain for artificially created forest ecosystems, maybe that's the only place things like that can be seen in the future. Frightening, but more real than we'd like to admit perhaps.

Chinatown has a slightly seedy feel to it. The massages there - not for the light-hearted. And after a good long walk around in the heat, it's worth the money. Little India promises slightly less clean roads. And some bad and not-very-Indian Indian food - fish head curry is unnecessarily hyped.

Go to Singapore. Just to see what a determined set of people can do with a pushy leader. It's pretty neat, even though it's 136 out of 178 in the Press Freedom Index, or caning is among the list of government-sanctioned punishment, or among the highest per-capita execution rate in the world.

References: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Singapore

City Market



If you are a little depressed about the cards life has dealt you and you've managed to build a little whining tower with them (like I have), City Market at 5 AM will bring it crashing down. However, that was not the stated purpose when my friend and I plotted to drive down to City Market at 4.30 AM one Friday morning. We just wanted to do something random. It was a bit of bad timing though - the morning of Varalakshmi Puja meant that prices and the crowd had as much as quadrupled overnight.


Our bleary eyes turned wide when we stepped out of the car. Why were so many people up and about at 5 in the morning? The only protective armor we had was a cloth bag A had brought along. And our elbows. I've often wondered how people get trampled to death in festival melas, and I got my answer here. In all the melee, we couldn't really figure out what we were stepping on. It could have been anything from rotten vegetables to a human head, I could not have told the difference. It took a lot of elbowing and jostling and all the power of our 5'2" frames to push through the crowd and get into the market.

The early morning light and the orange sodium vapor lamps reflect off the reams and reams of marigold and chrysanthemum laid out in tall coils like some unending Hanuman's tail. No way to stand and stare though. There is every possible color of roses stacked around. There are tens of flowers I do not even know the names of. We jostled and elbowed some more and found that it was only the entrance to the market that was so crowded. Once we are through the entrance, I make the mistake of looking down. In the orange glow, I see that we had been stepping through ankle-high muck all along. Perhaps a foot-high in places. I do not go in for a closer look, it must simply be a rich mix of every possible waste you could imagine. Hmm. I have had enough discomfort. This is not my playground. 


A hundred bodies pressed against each other. The stench of survival. Flowers in the millions,
but the fragrance long gone. Here a young man struggles with a huge stack of flowers over his head, a bundle much bigger than he should try to carry. Flowers - a burden for him, a blessing for me. Two sides, as always. As everything else. An old lady stacks up shriveled jacket potatoes, remains of the previous day perhaps. A couple of nuns stand by the side, a little taken aback by the crowd. We make eye contact and smile. Fish out of the water.

We buy a few bunches of flowers. We do not haggle. Maybe it is guilt that did not allow us to even try. We wiggle our way out again. I turn to take a photo, just to say we were here too. After a few more unspoken resolutions to count our blessings, we leave. A gives me a warm hug when she drops me off. I reciprocate with extra warmth; I suppose I just want to share my joy over the cards I've been dealt.e a warm hug when she drops me off. I reciprocate with extra warmth; I suppose I just want to share my jo