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Published: April 28th 2006
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I was sitting at a table underneath a Coca Cola umbrella at a sidewalk cafe in Singapore's China town when it started. Slowly at first, then with more intensity. The rain trickled off the edges of the umbrella. A shop keeper across the road held out a plastic bag to collect the water. I was trapped with no where to go. I finished the mysterious rice dish that I was eating. It was kind of good, but mostly really bad (I should probably invest in a thesaurus). I ordered a beer to help wait out the storm, and made small talk with the Aussies across from me. Then, it hit me; Violent Diarrhea. To give readers a scope of how desperate things had become, I left a full pint of beer at the table and ran in search of a toilet. From shop to shop I ran. I was clearly going to poop my pants. I also knew that if Singapore police caught wind of the incident, the punishments would be severe; flogging, Jail time or even death. I would be made an example so that no one dare poop their pants in a public market again. Finally, when the prairie
stuck under an umbrella
during a storm, I took to one of many available social vices dog could go no further out of his hole, I found a public toilet. It was a hole in the ground but this was no time to be picky. I ripped off my pants and attempted to squat. Torrents of Diarrhea flew haphazardly from my bum like the rain outside. I looked around for toilet paper. Drilled to the wall was an electric "Dispensomatic". The machine required a 10 cent deposit to issue TP. I put 10 cents in... Nothing Happened. I attempted to take the cover off of the machine. Suddenly loud sirens issued from it. I had to work fast. I used my right hand as best I could (couldn't remember which hand was proper etiquette for hand wiping in such a scenario). I opened the door and walked quickly outside as the TP sirens continued to let the neighborhood know that their was a thief on the loose. As I walked away, thinking about where I would go to wash my right hand, a man in front of a shop looked at me and yelled "Penis!". He knew...
For travellers leaving the grit of Thailand and Indo China behind them, Singapore is a welcome relief. Efficient
public transport, spotless streets, and the availability of every Western luxury make it a great place to clean clothes, have hot showers and drink Singapore Slings. For a traveller coming via the exorbitant wealth of Oman and Dubai, Singapore is a bit of a disapointment. It is sterile, artificial and cultureless.
Thankfully, the experience of travelling is far more about the people that you meet on the road, than it is about the place that you are visiting. And so, my trip to Singapore was a blast as a result of 2 girls from Toronto and a bloke from Brighton. 2 nights at the Hostel Bar followed and my Duty Free liquor was soon empty.
There are things to see and do in this town, and see and do them I did; Chinatown, Little India, Massive Shopping Malls, a Wedding Convention, Orchard Road, A Hindu temple, Merlion Park, Bartering for Digital Cameras, and visiting the Botanical Gardens.
The Gazebo at Swan Lake in te Singapore Botanical Gardens is beautiful, peaceful and Serene. I was sitting their in quiet reflection, about to reach a state of Nirvana, when I heard 50 cents "Window Shopper" playing in the distance.
It was getting louder. Finally I spotted the source of the awful sound. A portable boom box was being carried towards me by four Thai girls of questionable reputation. They put the blaring ghetto on the bench beside me and began to dance like highschool girls at their first college party, desperately shaking their bums, in hopes of attracting the wrong kind of attention.
On Night 3 in Singapore everything changed. The clean streets and prominent police presence had lulled me into a false sense of security. I had forgotten about my clumbsyness, big mouth and propensity for bad luck, but was about to get a nasty reminder. The early closing times of safe backpacker bars force those with an inclination to the bottle into the seedy underbelly of Singapore's nightlife. So there we were, the 4 of us, at a grotty basement bar at 4 AM in one of Little India's side streets. This was the third such club we had attended that night as each time one bar closed, random locals would tell us about a place they knew that was still open. We were the only white people to ever set foot in the place and
Don vs the Merlion
The Merlion, Singapores symbol is supposed to represent the contrast between old and new, East and West. He tried to attack Don with his Super powered water spout, but Don had a force field protecting him and remained victorious. so we were treated like celebrities. The vibe was good... too good.
I was standing in a circle , arm in arm with 10-15 Indian construction workers. one of the men was smartly dressed and so paying this man a compliment came as second nature, "This guy is the shit." I repeated the tacky mantra two or three times while pointing at the mans clothes. Looking back, I can remember the mood of the circle changing. People got quiet and stopped smiling. Suddenly, out of no where the man started throwing punches at me. Before I knew it I was on the ground about to be the victim of the local "Natural Justice" System. The man got 5 or 6 good punches in before I was able to get up, and accompanied by my three compadres, stumbled into the streets, followed by 30-40 Indians. 5 or 10 of them were angry, but most just wanted me to get far away from the bar, lest the Singapore police get involved. It was time to leave...
More Pictures to come...
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Mama
non-member comment
don't let your guard down
Where was your traviling companion ??? Just when I thought you would be protected by Don, trouble strikes. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. keep safe