Such Sweet Sorrow

On Tuesday, my dwindling vacation days hit me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. However, the fun wasn't over yet! We began the day with more Swedish pancakes and the movie Rurouni Kenshin, a Japanese film based on a cult anime of the same name (also called Samurai X in the U.S.).

This is what a vacation should look like.

But the adventure couldn't stop there. It was time to explore another pocket of Singapore, one that I'd been looking forward too all week, as it promised the delicious food and cheap kitsch that make my (sometimes) simple soul happy.

I spent the bus ride continuing a list of interesting words and names I had collected over the course of the trip--both research and a way for me to remain present throughout the trip, rather than slip into unobservant daydreams. It was a long ride, but soon characters overtook alphabets, signalling our arrival.

Our first stop was lunch. I got a good chuckle out of having Vietnamese food in Chinatown in Singapore. But her recommendation was spot on--not much was left in this bowl when I was done with it!

After lunch, we wound our way through the shops. I finally gave into the comfortable (if questionable) style of pirate/harem/M. C. Hammer pants. I won't admit how many times I've worn them since I've gotten back to the States--let's just say that my body adores being in these pants. 

The shops offered a lot to look at--bright souvenirs, breezy clothing, and even a beloved figure from European comics. After a few purchases, we decided we had exhausted our options and headed to one of our favorite kinds of places--a nearby coffee shop for some. I loved looking at the brightly-colored buildings on our way there, as well as small glimpses of everyday life.

I liked this place already!

Not only was it a coffee shop, it was also a cafe, bar, and a bookstore! All of the books lining the nooks and crannies are for sale. I, however, had brought my own--Brothers Karamazov. I have a habit of reading Russian literature over the summer. S, brought her netbook (probably just as heavy as my novel) to continue composing her masterful prose.

Who disturbs my creativity?

Interspersed throughout the books was an eccentric collection of old phones.

At sunset, the lights were dimmed as the cafe transitioned to a bar. When no reading light remained, we surrendered to the night and headed out.

For once, it wasn't an early night. Instead, we went to the mall, Vivo City, for some more shopping. The selection was just too cute and too reasonably priced for me to think about the confines of my carry-on suitcase. Practicality quickly returned, however. With our departures rapidly approaching, we had to (reluctantly) abandon our retail adventures to do some laundry and pack.

The next day was a continuation of our preparations. Mine were fairly simple: collect all of my scattered belongings and cram them into my luggage. S., however, had a more complicated task ahead of her: not only was she returning for an extended vacation at home in Sweden, she was also stopping in the UK to travel with old friends of hers. Around errands to the Central Business District to tie up loose ends, we managed to pack and clean, reinforcing the bittersweet fact of our leave=taking, a fact my mind was desperately trying to deny.

But the time came.

Dragging our suitcases down the hall of the empty, silent building, midnight came and went as we waited for our taxi. One week had already passed. The adventure was so nearly over; I found it hard to summon words as the cab took us to Changi Airport.

But I did my best at our last coffee shop conversation, knowing that it would be another long while before I enjoyed the company of S. Gabriel. We laughed and snacked on chai lattes and kaya toast (toast with butter and a coconut spread), while fellow travelers passed us by, trundling their suitcases under the eyes armed gurkhas.

Her plane left first; we hugged tightly and prayed for each other's long journeys.

I lost my words again.

The High Life at High Tea

As I was preparing my "Should Do" list for Singapore, both of my parents recommended that I experience High Tea at Raffles Hotel. High Tea is something my mom and I have done together before--once at the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong and once at a hotel in downtown Tokyo. They're fond memories--dressing up, eating little cakes, and (in the case of the Tokyo experience) giggling our way through an adventurous train ride home with our friends.

There weren't too many things that I "had" to do while I was in Singapore, but this was one of those things. Taking heed of the hotel's website, S. Gabriel and I took our time getting ready, finishing the Bollywood film Dhoom 2 (starring Hrithisk Roshan and Aishwarya Rai) while we donned our finest.

Sanna went for a modern take on the Gibson Girl look.

While I went for comfortable style

 After getting off the bus, we wandered the halls of the hotel, trying to make ourselves at home in the impressive marble hallways.

We've arrived!

As excited as we were, however, we couldn't match the excitement of a younger visitor:

A little Superman in training, that one.

We finally found ourselves in the tea room and, despite our lack of a reservation, they decided that we were too well dressed to be riff-raff off the mean streets and seated us anyway.

When most people think of tea, they think of dainty food--finger sandwiches, little cakes, and scones. Raffles also served fresh fruit, various kinds of dumplings, and even berries steeped in (what else?) tea. I left filled to the brim with delicious, tiny food.

The running joke between my mom and I is my choice of "unconventional" beverages at high tea. My previous experiences had taken place while I was in middle school, before I became a tea drinker. In Hong Kong, I had the most delicious chocolate milkshake I've ever had. Ever. In Tokyo, apparently I drank hot chocolate rather than experiment with the then-suspicious liquid known as "tea."  In the past ten years, however, I've grown to like this strange brew known as tea in many of its forms--green, black, iced, and most of all, sweet. Still, my mom's first question upon hearing I'd made it to Raffles: "Tea or hot chocolate???"

Good thing I had photographic proof that I had, in fact, had tea during High Tea:

I also had a Singapore Sling, Singapore's signature cocktail, to keep up with my non-traditional beverage habit.

 

 

  

 In keeping with the classy atmosphere, there was a harp player. At first, I paid little attention to the airy notes, focused more on the fascinating spread of food and drink (I was hungry). Soon, however, I began picking out familiar tunes. The two most distinct were "Someone Like You" by Adele and "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by none other than my childhood favorite boy band, the Backstreet Boys. I found the song choices rather funny, and, inspired, I penned a brief aside I hope to include in Paladin:

With a smile, Lia noticed that the chamber musicians were playing an instrumentation of an old drinking song; one so lowbrow, however, that none of the present company would admit to knowing it as a matter of course.

After finishing our tea, we explored more of the hotel, including the Writer's Bar, where one day, perhaps, our names will join those of Rudyard Kipling and Joseph Conrad as literary types who once graced the hotel.

We (read: S. Gabriel) took some more selfies to document our fun in finery.

As in the Botanical Gardens, we couldn't resist the siren song of beautiful surroundings to take some more demure portraits.

Finally, we quit the luxurious confines of the hotel. We briefly explored Chijmes across the street, where the restaurants and shops fill the rooms and corridors of a former Catholic convent. But, wearied by maintaining our elegant appearance, we quickly called it an evening and returned home fashionably early.

Lazy Sunday

The usually intrepid Messrs. S. Gabriel and A. Sheppard had been laid low by our day of silliness amongst the orchids. So Sunday morning was slow. After waking up late, we feasted (not for the first or only time) on Swedish pancakes with various combinations of jam. The goal was to see an early afternoon showing of Great Expectations, the film version of a book we had read for our Calvin class whilst studying in England.

Plans, however, go awry. We were enjoying our slow morning so much that we missed the bus we needed to make it to the desired showing. Still, we threw caution to the wind and went to the theaters anyway.

Why, with such a slow day planned, did we need a specific time?

Well, we needed time to get to Night Safari!

Photo credit: singaporeguideonline.com

Night Safari is an offshoot of the Singapore Zoo. It opens around sunset, with animal shows, trolleys tours, and walking trails for an closer look at select habitats. The whole point is to give visitors the chance to see animals when they're naturally active.  I love going to zoos, and so I was really excited for this experience.

We decided to do the animal show first, while it was still a little light out. Packing into the small arena, we fanned ourselves with our hands underneath the weight of the humidity. The emcee did a good job engaging the audience, despite the representation of at least ten countries. One of the highlights was the announcement that the staff "lost" one of the animals...only to "find" the largest python I've ever seen in the storage underneath the third row of seats.

Everyone in that row chuckled nervously after that revelation and sat down a little more gingerly than before.

My favorite, however, was the demonstration of the ingenuity and adorability of otters. Calling out three brothers, the emcee showed us how the otters had learned to recycle. They each juggled their respective target--plastic bottle, soda can, and paper cup--into the appropriate bin.

I nearly keeled over from excitement. To demonstrate my point, here's a photo of a short-clawed otter, the breed kept in the Night Safari:

Squee! Photo credit: inotternews.com

After the show was over (and I indulged my inner child by buying a small otter stuffed animal), we sweated our way through the labyrinthine line for the trolleys. As promised, the animals were up and about, not the usual lolling lumps of fur sleepy animals deserve to be during the daytime. After that, Sanna and I strolled through the habitats. We spent most of our time listening to the hungry otters chirping at us for fish and admiring the fuzziest, cutest bottom we'd ever seen, courtesy of a slow loris.

Since my camera is incapable of taking a decent night photo, I don't have any of this particular experience (hence the need to Google photos). But I have the warm fuzzies in my heart's memory.

The Great Outdoors

Ever since S. Gabriel moved to Singapore and began posting beautiful pictures, I've wanted to go to the Botanical Gardens there. On my third full day, that desire was fulfilled. Wearing my appropriate Giving Tree/Lord of the Rings mashup tee, we grabbed our cameras and took the bus to the gardens, not far from where S. Gabriel spent years of her childhood.

 The gardens were much larger than I expected, to be honest. However, they were mostly empty, with few willing to risk the midafternoon heat like us. What can I say? S. Gabriel and I like to live dangerously.

As I expected from her photos, the Gardens were photo-op central--not just of flora, though, but also of the local fauna. None of the birds stayed still for long or were close enough for my wimpy point and shoot, but I did get some shots of a familiar form:

Not as fat as Calvin's, but still fun to watch.

We also took advantage of the scenery to sneak in some pretty pictures of ourselves and each other.

 It only got more picturesque from there.

 As the flowers grew more beautiful...

 ...we grew progressively sillier.

While our fellow tourists chuckled at our antics, Others were not so amused. In fact, one in particular looked down upon us:

Bowed by the weight of the heat and humidity, we left the Orchid Garden and our childishness (mostly) behind, grabbing some cold drinks and watching the turtles. And birds. And monitor lizard. But even that became exhausting, so we left the garden for an Island.

Island Creamery, that is. Not only is the ice cream superb (fresh made daily), but the walls are covered with photos of patrons. All you have to do is snap a selfie, stick your SD card in their printer, and then stick your photo on the wall. Unfortunately, we had a table in the center, so I couldn't creep on former customers, but S. made sure to point out a photo from her previous visit.

So once we finished our double scoops (inside-out Oreo and Berry for her, inside-out Oreo and Nutella for me, in case you were wondering), we took our photo. Well, S. took it, because she's actually good at taking these kinds of pictures. I think it's her longer arm. Or maybe it's raw talent.

These lovely mugs are now decorating the walls of Island Creamery.

Refreshed by our treat but still tired (and, for my part, pretty dehydrated), we took the bus back for more Bollywood and an early night.

Oh, the Places You'll Go

Singapore is an incredibly multicultural city. Many of the signs are written in four languages: English, Malay, Mandarin, and Tamil, (hopefully) covering most of the population. And, as a huge financial center, Singapore is also home to a large expat (short for expatriate, someone who lives outside their own country) community. Growing up as a military brat, "expats" generally referred to other people--civilians who lived overseas for business or their dream retirement, rather than "us." So I always grew up with the perception that expats were rich people--which is, by the way, partly to mostly true in Singapore, but not always.

Like all countries with multiple ethnicities, cultures, and socio-economic backgrounds mixing together, there is friction. And, as per usual in major cities with large populations of immigrants or descendants of immigrants, there are clusters of homogeneity around the city, microcosms of a culture left behind (for some, generations ago). Singapore has several, one of which became our next adventure.

Back on the MRT! Destination: India Town

 The smells of the marketplace hit me like the door frames I so often walk into. Not a bad thing, to me I assure you. Strong spices have held a special place in my heart since my study abroad experience in York, England. While I enjoy good, hearty pub food as much as the next girl of Irish descent (read: a lot), four months with no flavor additives beyond salt can really wear on the tongue. When asked by our professor what we wanted for a group dinner, the unanimous answer was: spices. England was where I fell in love with Indian food, actually--unfortunately, it was late in the semester, when I actually felt that I had enough money to go out for more than take away.

I've more than made up for it since. In fact, I've joined a little tradition of my coworkers. On one-off holidays (Fourth of July, Memorial Day, etc.) when we have off work, we try to get together for lunch at India Town, a good joint in GR. Almost any excuse to treat myself to Indian--too tired to cook, sinuses a bit plugged, a simple craving--is good enough for me. For now, Singapore is the closest I've been to India, and Sanna always has fun, breezy clothes from the market there. Shopping + food + people watching? It sounded like a great day to me.

So I was very excited to go to Little India. We started off in the clothes market, where my eyes were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of color in front of them.

This was just one of the many corridors of clothing.

From simple cotton tunics to elaborately sequined saris, it took several turns around the market before I could finally decide what I wanted. I walked out with two green tunic dresses from the same shop, which somehow caught my attention in the riot of fabric each of the four or five times I walked by. S. Gabriel was much more decisive, choosing a long, dark blue top to serve as a light coat for her upcoming trip to England. But that was just the beginning. Not only can you buy clothing there, but you can also get it made or altered two storefronts away.

Photo credit: S. Gabriel

A left turn revealed another surprise:

One of two curio shops, right next door to each other. Photo credit: S. Gabriel

With our shopping done, we went downstairs to explore the food market.

Photo credit: S. Gabriel

Photo credit: S. Gabriel

Thanks to a gregarious fruit vendor (contrasted with his brusque partner), I tried some new tropical fruit. The one with the dark red outside and bright white inside (on the right) is mangosteen, the "Queen of Fruit." (For those interested, the "King of Fruit" is the durian, which is also considered Singapore's national fruit.) It was really yummy, so S. purchased a bag to enjoy (and pacify the rude partner).

But that was only a snack. So we took to the streets to hunt down a proper lunch.

 

In Singapore, it seems that you can only lose sight of a skyscraper by closing your eyes.

We ignored pamphlets and invitations to obvious tourist traps. Two key signs: they only approach foreigners, and they're wearing the stereotypical safari outfit. In fact, the restaurant we chose seemed surprised to have us. Thankfully, their food more than made up for the bewildered service.

Before: chicken korma, butter chicken, (unfortunately butter) naan, and mango lassis.

It didn't stick around very long.

More than sated by our meal, we entered the crowded streets again, peeking into the shops and restaurants that filled the colorful buildings. 

During that time, we stopped at a crosswalk in front of a Muslim building--whether it was a mosque, school, or community center, I didn't (and still don't) know, but there were a multitude of men in taqiyahs (caps) milling about. Two of them stood behind me, also waiting for the green man to beckon us across. If there's one thing I've learned from living overseas, it's knowing when others are talking about you in a language you don't understand.

They moved ahead of me, exchanging looks. "They're talking about your tattoo," S. whispered. While Singapore is largely more liberal towards tattoos than some Asian countries (like say, Japan), they obviously disapproved. I just had to laugh. If they took issue with what little of my conservative tattoo (just two lines of text) that peeked over the back collar of my dress, I thought, what did they think of the girl standing three feet away with Michelle Pfeiffer's incarnation of Catwoman tattooed across her chest? 

After that little humorous interlude, we did a little more shopping. S. found several Bollywood films to add to her collection, and I found some things for a friend of mine with an upcoming birthday. We ended our outdoor adventure soon after, taking the bus back to her apartment so S. could introduce me to Bollywood movies.

I may or may not be hooked...