Another light, breezy morning, and Mark and I are sitting down to breakfast, as is our custom, at the outdoor café. It sits along a narrow lane that curves between two large modern hotels; we watch the cabs line up and the workers get dropped off to start their days. I’m having my usual: French toast, tea and orange juice, while Mark opts for the generous-size apple-and-cinnamon muffin, coffee and orange juice. We mull over the cars going by, the odd passing motorcycle (bringing up one of Mark’s favorite subjects), yesterday’s doings, and enjoy the lovely morning air. The table is on a raised and sheltered walkway that lines the front of a row of restaurants, one of which is the oddly ubiquitous Subway. There is a profusion of well-tended plant life in the narrow strip between us and the little street (as there is everywhere). A small tortoise-shell Manx cat patrols the walkway, encouraged (fed and nurtured as I watched) by the young woman who brings us our breakfasts. We begin to discuss today’s agenda: what to do and what to see in wonderful, endlessly beguiling, crowded, bustling, sensational Singapore!
Before getting to that day’s plan, a quick word about our arrival at Changi Airport: in the strange, late-night, noisy, always-waiting-in-a-queue arrival, we were herded around and shown where to wait for the shuttle that would take us to the Marina Mandarin. The young lady who staffed the shuttle’s counter at the airport was Pakistani, I believe. She wore the modest veil of a Moslem woman, which covered her hair and neck. But she also wore an eye-popping skin-tight t-shirt, and faded jeans that showed off her very shapely rear – I’ll admit it, this old goat didn’t miss this specimen. It occurred to me that although I hadn’t seen Singapore yet, here was its symbol in the person of this lovely young woman. Tons and tons of allure, held in complete check by a strict code of behavior.
On our first morning sortie, Monday morning, we discovered the eminently useful and easy-to-follow subway system in Singapore (the Mass Rapid Transit, or MRT), and how helpful and accommodating the locals are. Here we were, a couple of helpless Anglos in late middle age, stooping over route map displays, squinting at platform directions, when a nice Chinese woman approached us and asked us where we wanted to go. We explained that we want to go to Orchard Road, and from there, walk to the Botanic Garden. She gently directed us, and we went downstairs for our first taste of Singapore’s mass transit.
What an introduction! At 8:40 on Monday morning, Mark and I and about 200,000 of our closest friends and associates stood on the platform at the City Hall station, waiting for a train. This is not just the usual subway station that those of us with New York connections are used to; downtown stations have a steel-seamed Plexiglas wall between the platform and the tracks. The train enters the station, the doors to the cars line up with the doors in the Plexiglas wall, and then everything opens up. (Those of you who have traveled through the Denver International Airport have seen it on the little subway shuttle that operates between terminals there.)
The excitement, the energy, and simple overwhelming mass of folks charging along and getting themselves to work, cast its magic spell on us. The subway was clean and well-ordered, like everything else in Singapore. They don’t close the doors between the cars. You can stand in the subway and peer fore or aft, as far as three or four cars, turns in the track permitting. The air rushes through, and the cars are very effectively air-conditioned, in addition to the airflow effect. In fact, speaking of coolness, a word about the weather:
Mark and I arrived in Singapore on January 11 (local date). However, since Singapore is just a degree north of the Equator, it doesn’t have seasons. There might be a rainier time, or a drier time of year, but as far as the temperature goes, you don’t see a lot of variability. In fact, I looked it up – the average high temperature is 86° every month of the year. January is supposed to be a heavy rainfall month there and, I figure, has to have higher humidity. Well, for Mark and me, the temperature never got into the high 80s, and except for one morning that was briefly a little misty, the rains never fell, and the humidity, which I expected to be one of the drawbacks, was never an issue, not once. If you were out walking in the sun, and thought you were going to start getting warm, a breeze would come up as if on cue, and you’d be fine. We may have run into some unusually nice weather, but it was clearly one of the very favorable things I have to say about this trip. I’m not exaggerating; it was completely delightful.
We got off the train on our maiden subway voyage and emerged at Orchard Road. (All the place names, all the directional signs, all the building names, all the street signs are in English. There may be a corresponding Chinese, Indian, or Malay name in addition, but English is the official language, and always comes first. A British colony from 1832 through 1965, Singapore is quite Brit in its heritage – down to driving on the wrong side of the road.) We set off toward the Botanic Garden, and found ourselves walking along a busy thoroughfare, that can only be described as lovely. There were plane trees lining it, either side, with gnarled and twisting limbs beneath a green canopy. It had a pretty green median, too, and followed the rolling contours of the land in a bewitching manner.
The odd thing about roads and streets in Singapore – all they have to do is curve the littlest bit, and their name changes. Orchard Road was no exception, and this unfortunate feature was exacerbated by the existence nearby of Orchard Boulevard, which connected to Orchard Road, which unfortunately had changed its name by then to Grange Avenue.
We trekked on and on that first day, only to miss the Botanic Garden altogether. It’s a pretty big target, so missing it is testimony to the complicated street-naming scheme.
We took the lessons learned the first day and went to see how they could be applied on Tuesday. At nearly 9:00 I called the concierge to see if there is a tour of some kind, maybe involving a motor coach, and we were told to be in the lobby in a just a few minutes. For $22 Singapore (I could be wrong on the amount - - if it were $22 in Singapore currency, that would amount to roughly $15.70 American) we could get a tour of Singapore. I was ready for a bus – the prior day’s walk was somewhat of a death march for me, because I had the wrong footwear. We got on the bus, and are told that one of the places we are going to see is the Singapore Botanic Garden; Mark and I exchanged a look – that was something we wanted to do on our own. Oh, well.
Our first stop Tuesday morning was Little India. The diminutive Chinese lady giving the tour trooped us all off the bus (which was luxurious – well-appointed, air conditioned, modern), through a rabbit warren of little shops, open air or indoors, directly to one particular booth where we could get a henna tattoo for a modest fee. Mark and I assumed this place belonged to the guide’s sister-in-law, or cousin, or something. This was the first of a multitude of shopping opportunities, of which Singapore has a never-ending supply. The place is extremely commercial, with neon signs and up-to-the-minute fashion displays everywhere. Our guide was definitely part of that scheme.
We’re told about the sprawl of two-storey buildings, the first floor of which was the shop, and the upper level the living quarters. The ethnic Indians either gravitated to this area or were limited to it by the British, who knows. The small streets were very crowded, and cars had to just creep along if they wanted to get through. Pedestrians paid them no heed at all. In the sixties the housing authority built an array of high-rise apartment buildings, in which the bulk of the population lives. You can see these around the fringes of Little India, a short distance from where we walked, complete with little laundry lines at various upper floors.
After another few minutes on the bus, we stopped at Esplanade Park, facing the Singapore River as it flows into a remote corner of the South China Sea. This park sits not only near the mouth of the river, but also hard by the energetic, modern financial center that is the heart of Singapore, and the stately remnants of British colonial rule, apparent in the classical columns and domes of the various one-time government buildings.
The park affords advantageous views of the Fullerton Hotel, the converted British post office, against the backdrop of modern Singapore’s stunning skyline. I don’t know about y’all, but this sort of urban esthetic really floats my boat. I decided that this stretch of the Singapore River sits in the middle of one of the great urban vistas of the world. More on that in a bit.
We strolled toward the pedestrian bridge, a quarter of a mile on. We approached the wondrous examples of British colonial architecture on offer in Singapore. We walked with our guide and found the Fullerton Hotel, originally the post office for the island/city/colony. Imposing, stately, and beautiful, the Fullerton Hotel sits among the city’s skyrocketing modern corporate HQ buildings. In this picture, it’s the lower gray building directly behind the trees on the river, with the walls kind of angling away from the view. I took loads of still shots, and Mark a load of video. This was our first introduction to this central area of Singapore, and it added immensely to our appreciation and affection for the place. There is a part of Singapore where these three influences coincide, and it is one of the memorable cityscapes in the world.
As the Singapore river flows past the city center skyscrapers, the buildings themselves rise up around but give way to the old River Quay, which today is a riverfront restaurant row, each establishment of which has an outdoor seating area on the waterfront. If you walk along this row of restaurants, a barker from each one will accost you and offer to seat you for some of their delicious food. Mark took video of this phenomenon, but it wasn’t as hectic the second day we did it. Isn’t that always the way? It was at one of these establishments that we had our one bad experience with dining out in Singapore. Well, the second one, actually. The first morning, after rising, we ate a nondescript breakfast at the hotel, to the tune of $38 Singapore each. That’s about $27.14 each for a couple of pieces of melon and a few sweet rolls. Which weren’t all that sweet.
We didn’t know it immediately, but this walking tour would open us up to the pedestrian bridge across the Singapore River; that experience would lead directly to the view of River Quay. All this happened on Tuesday morning, on the highly efficient tour we took from the hotel.
Chinatown was next on our tour agenda. Chinatown: what a highlight, what a thrill Chinatown turned out to be – a highly diverting combination of street scene, reasonably-priced meal, and shopping opportunity. Mark and I returned to Chinatown, on foot, every day we were there, including Saturday, the day we left. Each evening, we made an outing of it. We had found the Yummy Viet, where we had an extreme variety of choices, from beef to chicken to lamb to pork to vegetarian, served in a variety of preparations each. We sat down in this little restaurant, and it wasn’t very unlike all the stalls lining the street outside. And the cost wasn’t unlike the street vendors, either. Mark and I dined on tasty Vietnamese offerings, and shared the 20-ounce bottle of beer that was on offer, and we got out of there for $22 Singapore (~$15.70 American). That’s total. No wonder we went every night. The streets were thronged in anticipation of the Lunar New Year, the craptastic trinkets were at least interesting to see, and of course, the teeming night afforded endless hours of people-watching. One of my favorite pastimes.
Mark and I went back to Chinatown Tuesday night, just to take in the ambience. I especially wanted to cross South Gate Blvd. and explore the close, winding little lanes there. We saw a little of them during our tour and made a bee-line back that evening. We started our stroll through the lanes, which were lined with pubs and small restaurants. There wasn’t enough room on the sidewalk for outdoor seating; the joints were not especially busy, and the evening had a quiet, laid-back feel. As Mark and I strolled the winding lanes, a car rolled slowly along shopping for a parking space. Mark and I glanced over to see a beautiful, muscular, midnight-blue Maserati, with wire wheels. I will admit for the both of us that we sighed longingly at the lovely sight.
The above pic is the view of Chinatown when you emerge from one of the MRT stations that serve it.
The next pic shows one of the streets closed for food vendors.
Wednesday morning we made good on our commitment to take the train and hoof it to the Botanic Garden. The way we toured Singapore depended heavily on our feet. And there were times when I wanted to be off of them, in no uncertain terms. However, we got out of the Orchard Road MRT station, and walked again along the marvelous avenue, past the stately embassies, the high-rise condos and apartments, and the quiet clinics, and this day made the correct turns. The Botanic Garden does not charge an admission fee unless you want to tour the Orchid Garden; that’s a mere $2 apiece. Definitely worth it. The Botanic Garden struck me as an arbitrary designation of an undeveloped section of central Singapore (it really isn’t far from downtown). Sure, you have lovely, sculpted grounds and shrubbery, but you have that everywhere else in Singapore, too. The Botanic Garden did have a couple of other attractions: one was called the “Evolution Garden” and it followed the evolution of life on earth in an interesting and informative walk that progressed something like 650 million years every yard, or something.
Mark told me that while in an open area of the park he overheard enough conversation between a couple to be certain they were speaking French. The gentleman gazed and sighed at the impressive trees, the well-kept grounds, and lingered for a moment near a pretty display of flora. He said, “
Singapour, je t’adore!”
And the Botanic Garden is adorable, as pretty much everything is in Singapore. Displays of exotic plant life, artfully arranged and presented; the Swan Lake sculpture, which I was just too taken with to dwell on the Tchaikovsky reference/pun. On the day before I noted the presence of a good restaurant on the grounds, near the visitors’ center, and decided to take Mark to lunch there, to show my appreciation of his thinking of me for this trip. We sat outdoors in a pavilion, surrounded by rain forest, in the too-good-to-be-true weather. My first course came and I absolutely marveled at the earthy and creamy-rich mushroom soup, served at a perfect piping hot. The steak sandwich I followed that up with was less inspiring, but had a good flavor. The Botanic Garden was, as always, worth the trip; the plant life on display staggered your two travelers. The day transported us utterly from the dry reality of our homes - semi-arid grassland (me), and scrub desert (Mark). The Garden has a generous amount of open lawns, which I took to be a British touch. There are banks of palms and verges of trees and shrubs, and exotic things growing up out of bodies of water, Victorian touches like strategically-placed benches at the best viewing spots, gazebos offering shade to leisurely lakeside strollers. “
Je t’adore” indeed.
The next day we devoted to seeing the Colonial Loop, as the tourbooks call it. We had seen the main and most imposing examples, the converted post office (now the Fullerton Hotel), and the onetime Parliament Building next to an expansive cricket field. There are a number of others, all worth seeing.
We started our day with a short walk from our hotel along Bas Brasah Road to the venerable Raffles Hotel (
http://www.raffles.com/en_ra/property/rhs;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raffles_Hotel) at the corner of Bas Brasah and Beach Road. The first-built and still-standing Raffles Hotel is named for Colonel Stamford Raffles, Singapore’s original developer (who in 1819 correctly reckoned that Singapore Island would be a capital trading venue – there was never a military consideration for Singapore itself, which surprised me. Although it probably didn’t hurt the British effort to limit Dutch interests in the region to Indonesia.). The Raffles hotel is a brilliant white, set back slightly from Beach Road, amid the ever-present exotic verdure. We walked the two blocks to the Raffles, and commenced our day feverish shutterbugs at the distinguished Victorian edifice. Or in Mark’s case, the careful panning of his video camera. We soaked in the sight of the 60s-vintage Daimler parked on the gravel out front, with its diplomatic flags on the front fenders, and the incredibly tall Malay doorman (with the turban adding to his height - see the Wikipedia site for a shot of this, too).
We walked from there along Connaught Drive and then along Esplanade Park to the pedestrian bridge which connects directly to the heart of downtown. The Singapore River divides the Asian Civilisation Museum and the Parliament Building from the restaurants and night spots of River Quay. Once there, we walked along the Quay, fortunately too early for the lunch hawkers (most of them, anyway), re-crossed the river for a front-on view of the Parliament Building – I speculated that we might get into trouble with our cameras facing the Parliament compound, but no one paid us any mind.
There was an exhibit at the museum that we visited later in the afternoon. Admittance was quite reasonable – I think it was something like $7.50 Singpore. The outside appearance of the museum was a little more impressive than certain of the exhibits, but I definitely stopped thinking that when I got to the gold room. I call it that because it contained a seemingly unlimited collection of gold headdresses, necklaces and breast pieces. These were tribal pieces, ceremonial decorations of pure gold dating from the twelfth to the fifteenth century AD. The gold was mined from a little island off Brunei. I’ve added a couple of pictures – I didn’t dare take pictures in the museum, until I saw another patron snapping photos to his heart’s content. I mentioned to Mark I wanted to get some pictures of these gold pieces for my jewelry-loving Cindy, and he said just to make sure I stood off to one side to snap the pictures because if I was straight-on, all I would get was reflected flash in my pic. I’ve included a series of them because of their breathtaking workmanship and artistic composition.
That was the day we had lunch for the second time in two days along the riverfront, settling in a sparsely-attended place, which should have told us something. But even though we didn’t have a favorable experience, it seems wrong to go into it too minutely, because we were having a lovely time overall.
Friday, we decided, we would take the train out to Harbour Front, because that was the closest station to Mt. Faber Park. I think we could have done with a little nature, since we were in town the whole time, but Mt. Faber Park would have provided only a very little nature. Mt. Faber rises all of maybe 110 meters above Singapore, but the park is sizable and apparently easily accessible. We took the train from the City Hall station, transferred at Outram Park, and got on the Northeast line and took it to its southwest terminus. We were in a state of confusion when we arrived, because the Harbour Front station was more crowded than anything we had experienced, except maybe the downtown MRT stations at rush hour. It turns out that Harbour Front is a cruise terminal. It’s much like an airport, with noisy families, baggage, brightly-lit shops, and confusion everywhere. We walked outside onto a concrete apron and saw a massive cruise ship several hundred yards away to the left – that was the only ship in the terminal. There was a gondola line maybe two hundred feet in the air, connecting a rise in the ground a half mile to the east (this must be “Mt.” Faber) to two towers which align to decks of the ocean liners.
After a very few minutes, we had pretty much seen enough of Harbour Front and retraced our steps home to our Marina Mandarin base. Friday was spent resting, or doing some walking-distance shopping and some reading, writing and relaxin’. Mark wanted to film some of the walks that we did so many times during our stay, and I’m pretty helpless to remember very much of what went on on Friday other than that. We spoke to spouses, as we did each day – oh, I didn’t want to neglect telling you about that. The Marina Mandarin has a suite on the 6th floor call the Executive Centre. Guests can go in and request to have a call made for a very reasonable rate. The first time I called Cindy, we talked for only about 8 minutes, but the call was under $6 Singapore. We had lengthier calls after that. The only quasi-challenge was to figure out the timing. Singapore is 15 hours ahead of Denver, so 7:00 a.m. Tuesday in Singapore was 4:00 p.m. Monday in Denver, so that turned out to be a pretty good time to converse.
After turning our backs on Harbour Front and traversing in reverse the train stations and streets, we found out another reason to go back to Chinatown because there were some folks back home for whom we wanted to pick up some presents. Later that day, Cindy and I talked, and after I described what we were bringing home, we agreed that there was a really good opportunity to bring home a fan to add to her collection, and so I had my assignment for Saturday morning. Not that I minded in the least walking back over to Chinatown on our last morning in Singapore. It gave us something to do, and a good excuse to go back. At just after 10:00 on a Saturday morning, there isn’t a whole lot stirring in Singapore’s Chinatown, but my trip was a success. Further, everything was quite portable and easy to pack.
Mark and I joked a few times that we were having such a good time that we should stump to have the family reunion in Singapore. I thought the air fare-plus-hotel rate Mark had paid was really quite reasonable, especially given the quality of lodging and air service we enjoyed. We got to thinking about all the different activities we had found, plus all the ones we knew about but hadn’t taken advantage of, and a reunion would not be a hard thing to plan at all. But maybe not the easiest sell. If you want, you can consider this paean as the initial salvo.
Namaste!
