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...