I had never been to Singapore but
I knew a few things about it:
- -
It is a small island city/state at the bottom
tip of Malaysia measuring about 30km wide and 20km tall
- - It is a center of world trade, particularly
since it is situated at the convergence of three major shipping lanes
- -
It has a mixed population of Malays, Chinese,
Indians and ex-pat British and Australians
- -
It has a Formula 1 race, something that
Austinites are paying more attention to since an F1 track is being built
southeast of town
- -
Situated on the equator, it was going to be hot
I’m always interested to see new
places and Singapore was no exception. I
had made sure that my first stop on my trip was Tokyo though since flying from
Austin to Singapore would have involved a three hour flight to Los Angeles, an
eleven hour flight to Tokyo and then another 6.5 hour flight to Singapore, plus
time for layovers. Since I was already
in Tokyo, was fully rested and had dealt with the first two flights, a 6.5 hour
flight seemed like nothing to me.
Seriously.
My flight was scheduled to depart
at 6:25am from Tokyo’s Haneda Airport so I spent the night at a hotel right
next to the airport. ‘Right next to the
airport’, however, does not mean ‘right next to my terminal’, so I was obliged
to catch a shuttle in the morning. I
went to bed at 11:30 fully intending to wake up in time to catch the hotel’s
first shuttle, the 5:02am, but woke up well before my alarm (at 4:06, to be
precise), so I hustled to catch the 4:20 bus.
If I’d missed it, I would have had to wait until 5:02. Anyway, it was sitting out there waiting for
me and packed with travelers. The funny
thing is that even though it was 4:20 the sun was already starting to
rise. I’ve probably said this before but
the thing that would drive me crazy the most about living up north would be the
crazy long days in summer and the crazy short ones in winter. Give me the more steady daylight hours of
Austin’s latitude any day.
Anyway, I made it to my gate
without delays and caught the last ten minutes of Spain’s 2-0 Euro 2012
quarterfinal victory over the French.
Nothing quite like a soccer tournament to unite foreign travelers, at
least the male ones. Today’s flight
would be with Singapore Airlines which I mentioned in the Tokyo travelogue so I
won’t rehash it here. My one additional
comment is that they are the airline most likely to put on the ‘Fasten
Seatbelts’ sign. Most airlines wait
until it gets to the point of actually being uncomfortable but Singapore
Airlines seemed to do it at the slightest bump.
Again, these are the things I notice.
The flight was uneventful and we
landed in Singapore’s Changi Airport without incident. I was expecting, being the tropics and all,
huge thunderstorms when we landed.
Nothing of the sort was around thankfully though there were lots of tall
clouds that we had to maneuver around and through to land. No rain though. In fact, the locals were telling me they were
in a bit of a dry period. That didn’t
prevent the humidity from still being quite high, though not quite Houston
levels, I think. And, interestingly
enough, the temperature never got above 86 degrees or so. So for you people baking in 40 degree
Celsius/105 degree Fahrenheit temperatures in Texas, people on the equator at
sea level have it better than you. I
wandered around part of the island for five hours and never was in fear that I
would dehydrate or collapse.
I caught a taxi at the airport
(sometimes the office sends a driver to pick you up but apparently not in
Singapore which is ok). I immediately
showed how clueless I was about Singapore by attempting to get in on the wrong
side of the cab. I prefer to sit up
front in the passenger seat (better view and, if the driver speaks English and
is talkative, better conversation) and had gone around to the driver’s
side. You mean you guys drive on the
left down here too? OK. Apparently they do in Malaysia as well. Actually, that reminds of something: in
Singapore, you must pay a tax of around $75,000 to $100,000 just to own a
car. That’s right, you have to pay huge
money upfront just to own a car. Why
would they do that? Well, on a small
island that isn’t getting much bigger with a population of five million people,
there is already gridlock around the island.
The way the government has decided to limit the number of cars on the
road is the tax. It’s of course not fair
to lower income people but at least there is a fairly good network of buses and
trains. And cabs are everywhere and
very, at least by my American standards, cheap.
I was thinking about the car tax and really, what would the alternative
be? A lottery? No one owning a car? It’s an interesting dilemma.
My hotel was the
Intercontinental, a swank hotel that was solely designed to remind me how much
I feel uncomfortable in luxury hotels (though I have now decided that I need to
get with the program since this may be my life for the next thirty years). First, a man opens the taxi door even while
I’m still paying the driver. Second,
another man offers to take my bags to my room even before I have approached the
front desk to check in. Not seeing the
point of losing my bags when I might need them and no, I can take my own bags
thank you, I politely refuse. While
checking in, another man asks if he can take my bags to my room. What part of ‘no’ do you guys not
understand? Two minutes later a third
man approached to ask. Well, I was just
then finishing the checkout so I still refused but he gave me this look and
implied it would be quite difficult for me to do on my own so I said yes. It turned out the difficult part was a small
staircase in the middle of the hallway of maybe six steps which is about 1/10
of the number of stairs I’ve sometimes negotiated with my bags while in subway
stations and airports with broken escalators.
In fact, the poor guy decided to go take a service elevator off to the
side rather than mess with the stairs. He
opened the door to my room and wow, it was quite swank. It was huge and felt like I was staying in a
banana plantation owner’s house. It had
a very nice couch in it with lots of cushions (that I promptly strewed my clean
clothes on), a nice desk, a huge soft bed and a bathroom with both a shower and
a huge tub. And wood floors. Nice.
This I could get used to.
But back to the whole luxury
hotel uncomfortableness thing. I did tip
the porter (I never know when it’s appropriate to tip but I don’t care, I do it
anyway) so that much I can deal with.
But when I tried to leave the hotel, well, I didn’t want to go all the
way down the warren of hallways to take the elevator down one floor to the
front desk. In any low- to midrange
American hotel, from Super 8 to Courtyard, there is a stairwell you can use to
go down to the first floor. Just at the
end of my hall was a door marked exit. I
opened it to find that it led onto the roof.
Incredulous, I took a peek around the corner to see more roof, not
letting go of the door lest it closed and I get locked out. Deterred, I turned around and headed back
inside only to see a hotel employee staring at me. Still disbelieving what I’d seen, I asked him
if I could get out that way. He shook his head emphatically, I sighed and
headed back down the half mile of hallways to the elevator. On the way out the front door, a porter asked
if I would need a taxi but I said I was going walking. He didn’t acted surprised or miffed and,
truth be told, I was really expecting some sort of resistance on his part. Nice guy, eh.
One new experience at the
Intercontinental Hotel that was luxurious that I did enjoy was the
Lounge/Club. I forget the full name of
it (Business Lounge/Club) but I was given access to it by the lady checking me
in because, well, I presume because I’m an international business traveler and
they have a quota to meet. What access
to the lounge means is that you have a private area where you can chill out,
have breakfast or drinks and overall just relax away from the other
non-business traveler guests, i.e. the ones with kids. No offense to kids but it was extremely nice
to have a private place to quietly eat breakfast with other mostly solitary business
travelers. I was worried when I saw that
there was a ‘Smart Casual’ dress code but that was never a problem as I was
always dressed up for work anyway. The
breakfast food was quite decent as well which, in Asian terms, means I didn’t
have to eat corn, kidney beans or fried rice :)
I can also understand why frequent fliers covet the airlines’ private
lounges now.
At around 3 on the Sunday
afternoon I arrived, I set out from the hotel for one of my strolls. I really need to get a small backpack or
messenger bag to carry my stuff in because I had to rely on a plastic shopping
bag from Tokyo. The equipment I was
carrying consisted of:
- -
Bottle of water
- -
Umbrella (ever since I got caught in a freak
thunderstorm in Slovakia two years ago, got drenched to the skin and lost a
digital camera because of it, I always carry one of these, except maybe in
Arizona)
- -
Digital camera (waterproof, eh). It’s nice not to have to worry about water
anymore but it’s a bit too bulky to put in my pockets
- -
Map of downtown.
I feel dumb these days using a map in this day and age of GPS but I
don’t care; map-reading is a skill both of my kids will have, whether they like
it or not.
- -
Snacks. just in case I have a tough time finding
a suitable place to eat. If I stocked up
properly before leaving the US, I should still have trail mix and granola bars
(my latest discovery is Fiber One...those are awesome)
I was fully prepared to venture
out into the heat as I had put on sunscreen, had my bucket hat and was wearing
one of those moisture-wicking shirts that doesn’t show the fact that you are
sweating to beat the band. As I get
older and travel to places in the summertime that don’t make as liberal a use
of air conditioning as we do in the US, I realize that, man, I sweat. It actually reaches the point of being
uncomfortable in many places, even as people around me are walking around in
long-sleeve shirts. It’s weird and it
really does bug me. I mean, if you’re
working outside, you’re supposed to sweat and that’s ok. But when you’re strolling around downtown,
you shouldn’t. Anyway, wherever I
travel, I refuse to let the lack of air conditioning or miserably hot
temperatures deter me from seeing the places.
Thankfully the shirts can at least hide most of it; whoever invented
those things should get a Nobel or something.
I tried to head to the ocean from
my hotel but to do so, I had negotiate not one but two malls. Singaporeans seem to like their shopping
malls but actually I think they like their air conditioning. Several times I’d walk into a shop and the ac
was set so low a polar bear would shiver.
Or sometimes I’d walk past a shop with an open storefront and feel cold
air blasting out into the open air.
Anyway, after finding my way through the malls and passing what was
termed the largest fountain in the world, called the Fountain of Wealth, (I’m
not sure if I believe them but whatever), I found the ocean.
There’s just something about the
ocean, isn’t there? It’s calming and
mysterious at the same time. You can
stare at it for inordinate amounts of time.
If there’s a beach, you can create a whole family vacation around
it. I don’t understand it but I knew
when I started my walk that that was the thing I had to see first. I sat there for maybe ten minutes just
watching the harbor before pushing on.
The rest of the walk wasn’t that
thrilling really. Singapore is just like
any other city with its parks, markets, traffic and pedestrians. In some ways, I get a kick out of seeing
those normal things being replicated in a different culture. Like the wedding I passed by that had
probably one hundred guests under a pavilion with a large buffet and a very
jolly MC describing the proceedings and giving instructions in both Malay and
English. In fact, it was a mirror copy
of a birthday party I stumbled upon in a park in Bloomington, Minnesota, that
was being given by an Indian family for a large Indian community (except there
it was an older, but still jolly, Indian lady speaking in English with the
microphone). I saw people picnicking in
small groups and large, teenage couples trying to find some privacy (including
two who were getting a little frisky on a cannon I wanted a closer look at...I
let them have it), parents walking with their children and tourists
shopping. I also saw unusual things like
a cricket match which, after watching for ten minutes, I still didn’t understand,
and Little India. I had been warned by a
former co-worker of mine that it would be extremely crowded since all of the
Indian laborers would have the day off and indeed it was. About 95% of them were young Indian men
either walking around or sitting together in large groups. You could imagine them enjoying the relief of
being out in the open and not working or in their cramped living quarters. The sidewalks were quite crowded and there
were very few non-Indians around but that didn’t bother me. Actually, as long as there are people around,
I never get nervous when walking. Anyway,
I looked extensively for some flowing Indian-style shirts for Jennifer but
decided not to get any due to the prices; if they were that cheap were they
really going to last?
Singapore has an interesting
history. When the British East India
Company showed up in 1819, the island was only inhabited by a few hundred
people. Before that, it had been a
city/state off and on but kept getting invaded by Malaysia, Java and Siam
(there was even one story about Siam attacking it but withdrawing after a
Chinese messenger who happened to be passing through told them to knock it
off). The island had a spring not too
far from the ocean which made it a good stop for ships needing to replenish
their fresh water suppliers. The British
took the island over and proceeded to make it into the powerhouse of commerce
it is today. The British still owned it
when the Japanese attacked Malaysia and Singapore in World War II; it did not
go well for the British and they were forced to surrender. The account is fascinating if you’d like to
read it:
The food in Singapore was kind of
Chinese-like but I think the guys in the office always ordered me things that
they knew were more palatable to Americans like chicken and rice. That’s ok.
I’ve experienced foreign foods wherever I travel and, while I like to
try new ones, I always just go with whatever place people decide to take me to
and eat whatever is ordered for me (though people know I want to eat local
food). The flagship meal occurred when I
was treated by one of our service providers the night I was to fly out to
Shanghai at 1am. We ate at an oceanside
seafood restaurant and it was one of those meals where there are nine thousand
different things to try on the lazy susan including duck, sea cucumber and
other interesting things that I don’t remember.
I’d told them I’d eat anything except sea cucumber since the only time
I’d ever tried it I gave up eating it after seven minutes of chewing with no
results. The boss guy didn’t know that
when he ordered though but this sea cucumber, while tasting revolting, was at
least able to be chewed into little pieces and thus swallowed. I’m pretty good with chopsticks and had no
problems with that and I was also used to being relied upon to take the first
bite of anything so that everyone else could join in. In fact, the pecking order was me, the boss
man and then the guy to my right. After
that I didn’t pay attention.
We finished dinner around 9 but
my flight wasn’t going to leave for another four hours (yes, I was cool with
taking an overnight flight...that’s the confidence Ambien brings, eh). So some of the guys from the service provider
decided to take me to, of all places, a Latin dance club. Yes, six older to middle-aged guys sitting in
a Latin dance club in Singapore, drinking whiskey mixed with coke and watching
mostly Chinese-looking people cutting a rug on the dance floor. The band consisted of three Colombians and a
lady from Adelaide, Australia, who looked vaguely Hispanic and didn’t even know
any Spanish when she joined the band. To
my disappointment, they played mostly music that couples dance to like cha cha
and salsa, not the more club friendly stuff I danced to back in my college
days. Not that I was going to get up and
dance anyway, despite the best encouragement of my compatriots, none of whom
were getting up and dancing themselves, hopefully not because they were
dependent upon me. Sorry guys. Still, it was an interesting experience. I spent a good part of it teaching them
important Spanish words like ‘corazon’, ‘salud’ and ‘alma’ and explaining why
the Cotton-Eyed Joe is the best dance song of all time.
They drove me to the airport
while one of the guys found the Cotton-Eyed Joe on his cell phone for us to
listen to. And with that, I was at the
airport and on my way out for another flight.
The 1am-6am Singapore to Shanghai flight is supposedly popular for
businesspeople since you can sleep on the plane and then go right to work but
it was only a third full and looked to mostly be used by younger people and
families. I realized to my chagrin that
I couldn’t take the Ambien since I’d been, um, drinking but thankfully had a
free seat next to me and managed to knock out 2.5 hours of sleep which for me
is enough.
It was my third time in Shanghai
and I really can’t speak much about it that I haven’t written before. The experience of visiting Shanghai is always
the opposite of what people think it would be: “Wow, you’re visiting
Shanghai!” Well, imagine flying into
Houston and only visiting Pasadena.
Imagine flying into Dallas and only being around Fair Park. Shanghai does have culture but the parts that
I’m always in are more new and master-planned and surrounded by factories. I will speak highly of my hotel which was
right next to the office and I slept surprisingly well even though my mattress
was seemingly made of granite. Oh, and
breakfast usually consisted of corn, kidney beans, cucumber, grape tomatoes,
bread, fried pork and fried rice (which actually made it a fairly healthy,
though unusual breakfast). I even liked
staying in my hotel since there is a pizza restaurant (that I almost never see
anybody else eating in) on the first floor.
This time it was manned by bored teenagers watching music videos on
their cell phones when I walked in. But
the pizza is actually not bad and of course pizza is my ultimate on-the-road
comfort food.
Right now (Sunday morning) I’m in
a hotel at a ski resort in Korea chilling out for the weekend but I’ll write
more about that later. Ciao!
