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Published: August 6th 2007
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Singapore Airlines has consistently been voted the World’s #1 airline. However, accustomed to flying Southwest in the States and having little experience on international flights, I was completely oblivious to just how extravagant flying coach can be on a top-rated airline. Gene laughed as I childishly bounced around in my seat, reading the magazine that listed several new movie releases and video games, all accessible free of charge with the click of a button on your own personal remote. Never did I think that a 5-hour flight could keep me so highly entertained. I was hardly ready to get off the plane by the time we touched ground in Singapore.
Having spent half of our day above the clouds, Gene and I looked forward to a laid back afternoon in the city and our dinner with Piyush, an old co-worker of Gene’s who recently relocated to Singapore.
As we strolled about Chinatown, where our hotel was located, it became very obvious that we were the minority amongst the locals, comprised mainly of Asians, Malays and Indians. Heading through the market, we were persuaded to “come in” and “have a look” as peddlers held up various items they thought might
be of interest to us in our passing. Gene and I quickly learned the art of bargaining as those with few sales for the day promised, “I give you good price,” which always started at least double what we were willing to pay.
At times in need of assistance with directions or the whereabouts of some attraction, we were surprised at the willingness of the people to come to our aid and make great effort to speak our language - even those who struggled with simple English phrases. In addition to its beauty and the friendliness of its people, we were impressed by the city’s orderliness and cleanliness. Gene went so far as to comment, “Singapore is definitely a place that I would consider visiting again.”
Lost without a
Lonely Planet Guide to Singapore, Gene and I found ourselves fortunate to have a fellow resident at our fingertips to direct us to those sites most worthy of seeing during our short stay. We met Piyush for a cocktail in the lobby of our hotel and were warmly greeted with handshakes, hugs, and a welcoming gift. Gene was happy to see a familiar face and I was just as
delighted to match a face with the moniker I so frequently saw appear on Gene’s computer screen.
We gave Piyush full reign to make all decisions as to where our night’s escapades would take us. Per his recommendation, we taxied over to Clarke Quay, a waterfront entertainment square with a plethora of restaurants to choose from. Wanting to be hospitable guests, Gene and I both refused to make any final calls as to our evening fare. At our insistence, Piyush settled on Indian cuisine.
As I sat scanning the menu of various curries and unfamiliar dishes, I regretted playing the role of Little Miss Polite. Trying to keep an open mind, I ordered my entrée with confidence and, to my surprise, licked the plate clean.
Not yet ready to retire for the evening, we sat along the riverside, enjoying the outdoors and each other’s company over libations. Gene and I shared a special fondness for the ambiance of Clarke Quay and the vivaciousness of its nightlife. Each day, the district would start booming at dusk when people would flood in to take advantage of the trendy bars, tasty cuisines and cosmopolitan crowds.
With a long ride
ahead of him, Piyush finally threw in the towel and decided to call it a night. Trying to flag down a taxi, we came across an old Asian man parked at the side of the road on his bicycle with an attached sidecar. Gene and I simultaneously flashed a look of “we just have to do it.” Upon asking the driver how much it would cost to take us to our hotel in Chinatown, we were propositioned $10 SGD (approximately $6.60 USD) for the ride.
Accepting without any attempt to bargain, Gene and I climbed into the cart and began to cackle as the old man struggled to get the wheels turning. I began to grow hysterical as we watched the traffic speed past our putt-putt death trap. Through watery eyes, I asked, “If this guy can’t push our asses around, how in the hell does he ever get anyone else from Point “A” to Point “B?”
Gene, with a straight face, responded, “Gina, this guy pushes 100-pound Asians around for a living.” I was hardly able to contain myself as the passersby found my cackle contagious.
Almost halfway back to our hotel, the non-English speaking Asian
pulled to the side of the road, motioned for us to get out, and requested $15 SGD.
“You told us that it would cost only $10 SGD to get us back to Chinatown and now you want $15 SGD to drop us off in the middle of nowhere?!?” Gene ranted.
“$15,” the old bag demanded. Gene handed him $10 SGD and told him to get lost.
Realizing that it would have been a rip-off to pay $10 SGD even if we had been driven all the way back to our hotel, we accepted our defeat with a hearty laugh and started back at square one - flagging down a cab. Before long, we were at least back in an air-conditioned taxi. We provided the cab driver with the address of our hotel and sat back as he drove aimlessly with no idea where it was at. After another 15 minutes of circling, the driver apologized, telling us that he didn’t know where our hotel was and that we should get out of the cab.
Dropped off on a semi-lit side street with no other cars in sight, Gene and I had to navigate back to the
main road to catch another cab. After circumnavigating most of Chinatown, our driver finally located our hotel and dropped us off at the door.
Paying our fare, Gene and I decided that next time it would be more economical to walk.
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krankberg
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dim sum
You had to fly from Australia to China to meet an Indian from America? Anyway, be careful those shifty asians don't drop you off in the ghetto and get your asses robbed. oh, and aim well!