The City of Lions. Fascinating, mildly exciting and safe Singapore

Much to my regret, most of my journeys seem to start with a flight. This one was a little different. It started with three flights and a boat ride. On Friday, Cisca and I sat at Heathrow airport. We had checked in and Turkish Airlines accepted our 33 kilos each without demur. (30kg allowance). This had been a close run thing. The night before we flew out, Mac informed me that we had no working boats in the Dive Centre and no working vehicles. (Except for our 50 year old fire engine, but her main pump is not working). I walked down the bayswater road and actively contemplated flying to Tanzania, not Indonesia. But I had faith in Mac (which was rewarded) and I had to get away. And so we found ourselves in the bistro at Terminal three. I knew the Turks would feed us, and I knew it would be good, and so I ordered a large glass of rioja, some bread and a salad. With a very light head, I boarded the Turkish Airlines 777-300. I watched a movie and chomped on my kofte and rice. Good staple food.

The Turks landed slightly late and we moved swiftly through the super hot Istanbul airport.
“What happened to the air conditioning?” I asked a security officer.
“they turn it off as everyone gets sick with it on!” he replied. “Or they want to save money” he went on dolefully.

We boarded the Airbus A330-200, an ultra clean and cool. The seats were comfortable. We took off and climbed over Turkey, the flight took us over The entirety of Turkey, Iran, Southern Afghanistan, northern India and down the Malay peninsula. Ten and a half hours (and just inside the airbus’s declared range) we dropped slowly onto the runway at Singapore. The sun was hidden by grey clouds, but we made a superbly smooth landing and turned off to terminal one. We came in just behind the Colombo flight and so immigration took some time. The poor Sri Lankans were thoroughly asked questions before being allowed into the Island state. The Turks produced air tickets and were stamped in. We hopped into a taxi and washed the grime of London off. This lasted precisely ten seconds as our French friend Aline and her sister arrived to take us out on the town. This meant one drink at the fullerton hotel and a sweaty night at a sweaty night market. Pemba was cool in comparison to this, but the food was stupendous, and not expensive.

The next day Cisca insisted in going to the museum of asian civilisations. I indulged her, and found myself fascinated by the Island nations’ historical link with the rest of Asia.

The museum was, like the rest of singapore, very well organised. In spite of its rules and regulations, I have always liked Singapore. Perhaps my inner Turkish desire for Law and order maintained at any cost is finally satisfied in Singapore. Or perhaps after the injustices of India and Africa, I like the slightly more level playing field of the city of lions. We left the museum just in time, to catch the metro out to see Sally Nixon. She had turned up from England and was en route to Australia to see her mum. We had persuaded her to join us in Singapore and dive with us in Indonesia. The MTR rattled along to Changi. It went past Paya Lebar, Kallang, Tengah and other ex royal air force stations. I began to wonder if any part of Singapore was not in some way linked to the RAF. We stood the whole way to Changi, (another RAF station) and found our way to Terminal one.

After a few minutes, Sally appeared bouncing down the stairs to belt number 19. She waved through the glass and grabbed her dive kit, had it ex-rayed and charged through to hug Cisca. The last time she had seen her, Cis had ended up in hospital for 4 days in wales.

The taxi driver took us into town and we nattered away in the back. Having dumped sally’s kit, we had a quiet beer in the hotel, but then struggled to online check in. Three beers and an hour wasted later, we had our boarding cards in our hands. Then it was time to go out, we esnded up in clark quay for a drink and then boat quay. If one bought sensibly, the prices were not too high. Regrettably we did not buy sensibly.

After food, Sally insisted on bungy sitting.. A device which has chairs and two bungy chords. One is flung into the air and can see singapore... About three times. At 0200 I suspect we fell asleep (Stomachs still churning) and looked forward to our 0600 wake up...

Who says Singapore is boring?

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