Singapore Sling

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Waking to rain after a rambunctious night on the town, Gina and I were anxious to get out and explore Singapore. We grabbed an umbrella and headed into the bustle of our Chinatown surroundings hoping to score a few souvenirs. As we made our way up the busy streets, we both noticed the pleasing order and cleanliness that Singapore and its citizen’s project. A few hundred meters from our hotel, we turned down an alleyway filled with vendor stalls, hocking everything from locally produced clothing, pottery, jewelry and food. If I hadn’t known better, Gina found her Nirvana.

The myriad of stalls consumed a large portion of our morning and our wallets. Now nearing noon, our stomachs were growling. Having enjoyed the ambiance of Clarke Quay the night before, we decided to seek-out lunch by the waterfront. Unbeknownst to us however, the venue is mainly a nighttime attraction and most restaurants are closed during the day. Upon arrival, we quickly summed-up our options: a brew pub, another brew pub and Hooters. In a nod to American frivolity, we settled on the orange and white clad servers, whom Gina discretely mentioned did not seem to fill their uniforms. And I thought they called this Hooters for a reason.

Having only three days in Singapore, we sat at lunch and calculated an ambitious game plan for the balance of our day. On the recommendation of several locals, we decided to explore Sentosa Island, a quasi-theme park offering various attractions. The tourist guidebook suggested three options for our crossing onto the adjacent island: car, monorail or cable car. Naturally, we decided on the cable car, hoping for an aerial vantage point of the city and its surroundings. We paid our lunch tab and grabbed a cab to Mt. Faber, the cable car’s starting point.

The drive to Mt. Faber was a bit further than anticipated but we didn’t fret, as Singapore has extremely, almost unfairly, cheap taxi service. About fifteen minutes later, we wound our way up Mt. Faber before finally reaching a terminus. A rough calculation yielded $2 USD for our ride. Eager to beat a mass of Asian tourists flooding from a parked bus, we hurriedly purchased our tickets and ascended the staircase towards the cable car station. Reaching the platform moments later, we were awestruck by the panorama of the valley below and Sentosa in the distance. Quickly losing track of the busload of Oooooooo’ers and Aaaaaaaaa’ers on our heels, Gina and I decided to have a drink and take in the scenery before our crossing to Sentosa.

We sat and conversed as we sipped our drinks, a Singapore Sling for me and watermelon martini for her. Groups of tourists rotated in and out, each taking their turn at blocking our view. Finally annoyed, we gulped down the remainder of our libations and queued for the cable car. We weren’t surprised at the surge of Asians trying to push their way past as we had read formal lines are a foreign concept in Asia. Doing her best to throw elbows and dunning stares at each passing person, Gina finally muttered, “They want to push, I can push.”

Trying to prevent a melee, I motioned Gina towards an open cable car making its way through the roundhouse. As the doors closed and we shot out into the open sky, I could see the redness slowly easing from Gina’s face. Due to the earlier rain, much of the horizon was clouded over with haze. Disappointed that our aerial vantage point wasn’t much of a vantage point at all, we refocused our attention on the various buildings and ships passing below us. The crossing took a very long ten minutes as Gina became fidgety about our 60 meter (200 ft) height above things.

We exited at the Sentosa roundhouse and sought out a directory to plan our afternoon’s activities. Predictably, Gina’s attention narrowed-in on one thing, the Dolphin Lagoon. Recalling a shoving match that Gina engaged in with a 10 year-old girl on a trip to San Diego’s Sea World while fighting for space at the dolphin feeding platform, I could only imagine what trouble this might bring. Minutes later, we started off to survey the island’s attractions when we suddenly came across a man standing next to a large woven basket. Emblazoned above him was a hand scrawled sign that read: Snake Charmer. He noticed our pause and reached into the basket, pulling a large python from its resting place. Gina, convinced that a photo of her holding the snake would immortalize her amongst friends and family, shook off all inhibition and let the handler wrap the snake around her neck.

I sat and watched the python slither back and forth as Gina forced smiles for the camera. Satisfied with herself, she suggested I take a turn. I declined and we carried on to the Merlion, a statue of a mythical creature, half lion, half fish which has come to symbolize Singapore. We sat and gazed upward at the concrete beast before deciding to roam on further in pursuit of fun. Unfortunately, we began to realize Sentosa was no Disneyland but a sad excuse for a theme park, without rides, games or elephant ears. Disillusioned and short on time, we boarded the cable car back to Singapore but not before I had my go with the python.

Exiting at the aerial’s midway point this time, we took an elevator to street level and hailed a cab. In contrast to the usual beat-up taxi, a Mercedes pulled forward with a taxi sign atop. We directed the driver to our hotel as he pulled away from the curb. Expecting the same cheap fare we had grown accustomed to, I watched as the driver tried to sneak a $35 add-on charge to the meter. “Excuse me, what are you doing?” I shouted from the back seat.

Holding up a sign and feigning to not understand English well, he pointed at a limousine sign with ridiculous rates. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the driver intended to take us for a ride. “Stop the car,” Gina and I yelled in stereo.

Confused and equally pissed, the driver stopped and we exited the car without another word. We made our way back to the taxi stand and hailed a normal looking taxi for our ride home. $2 and five minutes later, we were back in Chinatown to deposit our earlier purchases. In no time, we were out the door again on a hunt for dinner. Deciding to go native, we settled at an outdoor Chinese eatery amongst the vendor stalls we’d earlier visited.

Reenergized by our less-than-scrumptious fare, we decided to take a sunset cruise down Singapore River in an old transport boat. Having seen the boats scurrying up and down the river while at Clark Quay the evening before, we thought the ride would offer a unique view of the cityscape. We wound our way back to the Quay and boarded the boat with a handful of other tourists. Gina and I took front row seats for our 30-minute tour and paid little attention to the funny looking man at the boat’s helm as the boat backed away from the dock. A group of men gathered on the river’s opposite bank caught Gina’s eye and she shot them a wave. They eagerly returned the gesture.

As the transport boat slowly made its way down river, Gina and I took photos having no clue which features on the landscape were of importance or upcoming. Noticing our confusion, the boat’s pilot slowed the vessel at one point and came to our aid, directing our attention to various statues, bridges and buildings, all through broken English and a toothless smile. We laughed with him, both sides trying to decipher the other’s intent. Feeling that we had satiated our photo op and trying to keep the boat on schedule, the little old man returned to the helm a few minutes later and piloted us to the midway point, a Merlion effigy spouting water from its mouth into the bay. The consummate host, the boat’s captain stopped the vessel and offered to take photos of the couples aboard before returning to his position at the rear of the vessel. Having taken a fancy to Gina, as everyone does, the little old man motioned for her to come steer to boat. I couldn’t help but laugh as he placed what looked to be a child’s birthday party hat on her head as she managed the large rudder pole.

We thanked the captain upon our arrival back at Clark Quay and disembarked for some evening entertainment. The crowded complex was alive even though it was Sunday night. Wandering aimlessly, we scoped out the bars and restaurants before settling on Clinic, a chic outdoor bar with sitting areas designed as hospital dressing areas and drink-filled IV bags. The concept was novel and atmosphere welcoming, so we spent the next two hours people watching and sipping drinks with IV straws.

Finally tired after a long day on the town, we decided to call it a night and walked home through Chinatown. Wanting nothing more than to crawl between the sheets, Gina gave a look of bewilderment as she spotted an ant on the duvet. She proceeded to squash it and immediately noticed another. This exercise continued in earnest for the next minute or so before Gina proclaimed, “There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Exhausted, I didn’t even try to convince her otherwise and proceeded to call the front desk. After explaining the situation, a bellman arrived at our door within minutes to hand over a new room key. We hastily made our way to the new room and fell asleep within seconds of hitting the bed. The marathon continues.

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Comments

[Tamisha]

UM...
Gina. Wrapped in a live snake. With a $5 sign over her shoulder. Um, what are you trying to say here, Gene?