Slingshot to Singapore
Trip Start
Jun 11, 2005
1
25
Trip End
Jun 05, 2006
Singapore,
Singapore
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Singapore airport, a hub for many a Europe/Far East/Australasia journey is an epic one, and it took us about 1/2 hour to walk from the gate to the luggage collection. Once outside, we jumped in a taxi, little knowing that the first Singaporean we would meet would be a comically rude taxi driver. All was well initially, we'd booked into a budget hotel, and he drove us there with little fuss, but when we arrived, it looked decidedly dodgy, so we decided to try elsewhere. We asked the driver if he could instead take us to a different hotel recommended by the guide, about 3 streets away. This began his tirade "This is not your car!" he said, and I assumed he was making a little joke, so just laughed. But he continued, telling us that it was not his job to drive us around all day(a strange hang-up for taxi driver to have, maybe he's been in the business a bit too long). Andrea and I looked at each other, a bit baffled at his outburst, having been quite polite, we thought, in explaining our change of plan. He took us to our hotel, which looked fine, and out we got with all the aggro seeming so unnecessary.
We were staying at the New Seventh Story Hotel, which must have been new once upon a time, but certainly wasn't anymore, but was clean and the staff were very friendly.
In trying to get our bearings the next morning, we found the nearby streets deserted, and felt that our hotel was a bit out of the way, so decided to explore a little, and find somewhere else to stay. We were hoping to stay with Clare and Andy, friends from RR who live in Singapore, but were currently on shore leave back in Blighty, so we would have to fend for ourselves for a few more days. Also, by this time, I had arranged to fly home to go to Cardiff, so if Andrea was to be left all alone for a few days, we needed to make sure we were stopping somewhere fairly pleasant.
We first headed to Chinatown, which is not somewhere to go when hungover or suffering from a headache. All five senses, numbed by the sterile Singapore subway are slapped with a wet fish when stepping out at Chinatown station. The heat all over Singapore was quite draining, and here was no exception. The eyes are bombarded by vivid colours of lanterns, posters, shops selling all kinds of silks and fabrics, the noise of street traders and general bustle, and the aromas - from cooking and incense, spices, bustle on the streets.
We next headed for Little India, which was like stepping into Bombay (I imagine, never having been). Narrow streets were crammed with little shops selling electrical goods, fabrics and crafts, and every other establishment was a restaurant. Indian tunes blared from all directions and mixed seamlessly into one another as we walked along.
Strolling for any distance was draining in the humidity, and escaping into the cool air of the super-clean metro was welcome relief. All the signs on the trains were in Malay, Chinese, English and Urdu, reflecting the cultural milkshake that is Singapore.
We ate lunch at the restaurant of Alvin Koh, a 4'8" bodybuilder turned chef, photos of him and newspaper articles about him filled the walls, and indeed he cooked a mean lunch.
