Sing a Song of Singapore

Important note: check the post after this one for a few days. I will post about what I said I would, but I'll post-date it and it will be placed between this post and the one on Dec 2nd when I apologized for my lack of writing.
And without further ado...

Flying into Phoenix

I've been to a lot of big cities in my life: New York, Milan, San Diego, Philadelphia, Cape Town, Detroit, Raleigh, Paris, Columbus, Nairobi, Denver, Honolulu, Manila, Zurich, Portland, Washington DC, Phoenix (pictured at right), the list goes on. Each city has its own character, its own vibe, its own personality. Each one has things that make it special. Venice for instance has brick alleys and no cars. What Detroit lacks in cleanliness, San Diego makes up for in beauty. Zurich is filled with enormous painted and decorated teddy bears, Milan with cows, and Cleveland has the equivalent in guitars. While Manila is a nightmare to drive in, residents of other cities like DC happily take the metro beneath the streets. Each city is special in its own way. Each one has pros and cons. Here's my take on Singapore (pictured below).

Singapore

Singaporians sometimes joke that it is a “fine” city, meaning you get a fine for just about anything. There is no spitting allowed, no jay-walking, no chewing gum, no leaving a public toilet unflushed, no littering, the list goes on with hefty fines on each violation. The result is a country where people follow the rules. Where roads make sense, where organization and simplicity are essential, where there is no trash on the sidewalks, and no graffiti on the buses. Singapore combines the clockwork organization of Germany and Switzerland, the technology of Japan and Korea, the friendliness I've seen all over Southeast Asia, the prices also typical of Southeast Asia, the food of China and India, the natural cleanliness of the back country, the safety of Granville (well, almost), filled with the most diverse group of people I've ever seen in my life. Never have I seen a city with so many parks and open grassy areas. Never have I seen a city that doesn't have traffic jams. First it was Portland, then San Diego, and until last week Venice held the title of my favorite city in the world. Singapore is the first international city I have been in where I can actually see myself living. Not that I will move there, but it gets my special “Robbie would willingly call this city home for a while” award.

Anywho, as the story goes, Indonesian visas obtained upon arrival are nonrenewable and only last a maximum of 30 days. My first option was to call a guy named Andre from immigration who gave me his phone number so he could illegally hook me up for another month (I would have to do it not once but two more times). My other option was to book a flight out of the country, apply for a 2-month visa, and return legally. I'm not much of a rule-breaker and the idea of seeing Singapore (cheapest international flight) sounded very appealing, so the latter option was the clear choice. While there, a few notable things took place.

Green Sea Turtle

First of all I bought a camera with an underwater case. There's not much of a story behind it. I bargained with several shops to get the best price. Although I ended up paying slightly more than I would have had I ordered it online in the states (my American friends, allow me to tell you all – everything is cheaper in America!), I got it nonetheless. It's funny how as much as Singapore is a developed country, you still bargain in the malls.

Modeling

As I was leaving the mall with the plastic bag of goodies in hand, I felt a tap on my shoulder and reluctantly turned. In the interest of catching up on the blog, here is the Reader's Digest version. Employed by a modeling agency, her job was to stand in a busy area and find candidates with features fit for advertisements. I would have thought it was a complete scam had I not heard of it happening to two people in the past. Flattered, I took her card and laughed all the way along the metro to the hostel where I dropped off my fancy new purchase and turned right around and headed for the woman's office. They did a photoshoot with me straight away and assured me that once my pictures are sent around, they would text me with offers and fly me back to Singapore if need be. We'll see what happens. If nothing happens, no worries. I don't expect to be called back anytime soon but I would jump at the opportunity if I got the text.

Sebastian with grouper

The following night, I had an interview scheduled with a company called Broadreach. Based in Raleigh, NC, they run adventure teen summer camps throughout the Caribbean and even parts of Central America, Fiji, Egypt, and Australia. Many of the trips are scuba-based, and the housing situation for most of them is on a sailboat with the other 10-12 campers and two leaders. Adventure activities include water skiing, hiking, zip lining, sailing small boats, wakeboarding, rafting, with a touch of community service, all packed into a 2-3 week trip. When I first read about the program, I sent an email to them immediately expressing my interest in joining the squad. After two rounds of applications, I was asked to appear for an interview, which brings me back to Singapore. I talked to the Broadreach representative for over an hour, and by the end of the conversation, I was told that unless something unexpected comes from the references, the prospect of being a leader is very good, which gave me something new to smile about. Since the interview I have mulled over the site where it outlines each trip they offer and chose the 6 trips I thought would be the most fun to be a part of: Fiji, Red Sea, and the “Arc of the Caribbean” (top to bottom) were my top 3 and then the Yucatan, Grenadines, and St. Kitts/Nevis were my next 3 picks. Honestly, wherever I go, it is going to be amazing. I will find out my placement (assuming I get the position) within two weeks and I will post to the blog immediately.

Singapore botanical garden

The next day, I decided to go to the botanical gardens and other than the rain, it was a fantastic choice. The gardens span about a mile by a half mile and the grounds are filled with beautiful trees, grassy areas, a couple large ponds, and plenty of gorgeous vibrant flowers.

Blue spotted stingray under coral

Otherwise, my other noteworthy experience is worth spending the time to be descriptive about. To keep the streets clear, Singapore has mandated that hawkers, people selling food, clothes, souvenirs, etc are restricted to certain areas throughout the city. These hawker stations are gold mines for traditional Southeast Asian products. One night, I decided to dine at one of these stations. Much like a tourist, I wandered around the small stalls rather aimlessly, closely inspecting all the pictures that were plastered around the counters advertising the culinary specials. Had I had company, I likely would have been wild enough to try the frog selection, beef organ soup, or even the pig tendons with noodles. However, without anyone to share and enjoy the novel experience with, I decided to have something that my mouth would most likely appreciate. One entire lap of the large station was entirely fruitless. Most of the writing was in Chinese and the small pictures with writing all over them were far from helpful. I decided to grab a snack at one while I waited. It was a piece of white papery-feeling bread wrapped around vegetables, sauce, and who knows what else, then cut like a roll of sushi. In Singapore, it is believed that the customers should fill all the seats, not the tables. What I mean is that it is expected that you will sit down at a table that is already occupied; there is not much choice when the tables are full. As I politely intruded on a couple sharing a meal, I ate my unusual but tasty roll of ... stuff while wondering what to do for dinner. Surrounded by a menagerie of shops eager to serve me, I was in a state of indecision. Finally, it occurred to me that one stall above all others had a line that never actually got shorter. In between stalls that were frequently idle, this stall had not a second of down time. My decision was made.

Without a single English word on the stall and no menus to speak of, I nervously tried coming up with a plan for once I reached the fast-paced counter. Like a detective, I watched every customer order, wait for the food, then walk away. Sometimes with a bowl and a plate, sometimes with two plates, sometimes with only a bowl, and sometimes with enough food for the entire family. I had no idea what was included in a regular meal or what any of the food was called. Luckily my choices were not hard: there were only 3 pictures above the counter. When I realized watching the other customers was useless, my eyes fell upon the husband and wife cooking, preparing, and serving the food. The years of experience between the two of them were shown burned into their faces and wrinkled but perfectly controlled hands. The woman hidden behind the food had a faint hint of a smile, almost imperceptible. Clearly overworked, she still seemed to find enjoyment in serving the food, proud to be the most popular stall in the station. When the husband who acted as the cook caught my eye, I couldn't look away. His back was hunched after what must have been decades of cooking. Wrinkles covered his dark skin which in places seemed to hang from his frail bones. The unbuttoned shirt he was wearing showed clearly his thin stomach. My eyes gazed down to his hands with their forceful yet deliberate movements. The finger that was cut short did not seem to slow his routine of stirring, mixing, and draining the noodles and broth. Careful not to stare, I found that his unforgiving face showed thin pursed lips and sunken but sharp eyes focused only on the food with no interest on the goings on around him. He had a routine, and there was nothing stopping him from doing what he had been doing for so long; cooking was his life, and I will testify that all the years of practice have paid off.

Hindu ceremony

When I reached the counter I pointed to the first picture, the one that appeared to have meat. When I tried to ask also for a small bowl of soup, the gentleman in front of me had to translate. About a minute and four dollars later, I was walking toward a table with a couple lone strangers going about their daily routine. Sitting down, I proceeded to have the best wonton soup I've ever tasted with noodles that cannot be found anywhere in America. A post-dinner walk was in order and after happening upon a small soy ice cream stand, I stumbled across a traditional Hindu ceremony. I didn't have my camera, but the picture here is one of the following night when I again stumbled upon another ceremony.