Nothing bad ever happens in Singapore. If it did, I'm sure there would be a fine.
Singapore has been like a breath of fresh air after Indonesia. The air is much cleaner here, to be sure, but it goes beyond that. The streets are also clean, and lined with green trees and bushes. The sidewalks are easily negotiable. Everyone speaks English. The skyscrapers are actually very nice to look at. And the variety and quality of food to be eaten is absolutely mind-boggling.
We hadn't planned to visit Singapore, but it turned out to be a convenient transfer point on our way to Vietnam, so we decided to throw in a few days. Our first view of Singapore's aspirations to perfection was at the airport: every amenity you'd ever want could be had. From candy dishes at the customs booths to free movies to wireless internet connections (with free loaner network cards) to a poolside bar, this was the ultimate airport.
Our time in Singapore has basically been spent moving from one shopping mall to another. This city has more shopping malls than I've ever seen -- most skyscrapers (and there are plenty, trust me) have one at its base, and most are several floors of bright pastels and glistening chrome. Many are specialist malls, and my own personal favourites are the IT malls. Imagine six floors of everything a computer junkie could ask for: from transistors to memory cards to batteries to components and complete computer systems. It was tough to not buy myself a new computer system. I do have space in my, pack after all...
Between malls Kate and I have wandered around the city. We visited the Sultan Mosque in the Arab Quarter and had lunch in Little India. We sucked back Singapore Slings and threw peanut shells on the floor at the Long Bar at the exquisite Raffles Hotel (room starting at US$350/night), where the Sling was invented. We walked at night along the Singapore River, watching Chinese families on water taxies singing under red paper lanterns. We admired the incredible modern architecture -- skyscrapers as fanciful needles, layer cakes, simultaneously reminiscent of Star Wars and ancient Rome.
Singapore is famous for its enforced orderliness. There are hefty fines for littering, of course, and chewing gum is banned (dissident elements were using it to gum up the subway doors). There are signs everywhere promoting courteous behavior. Drivers are encouraged to give way. There are awards given to the most courteous passengers on the subway. Not flushing the toilet after use carries a $150 fine. All these rules, while repressive (and perhaps a little silly) on the surface, actual work. Singapore is clean and efficient and just a nice place to be in. Legislated etiquette is, I believe, long-overdue in North America.
But if you need just one reason to visit Singapore, it's the food.
Three days is not enough. A month is not enough. Everywhere we go there are restaurants serving up an astonishing variety of strange and wonderful tastes. The tiny little streetside restaurants and hawker stalls are institutions. They have elevated the "food court" to an entirely new level. We've had chicken rice, a local specialty, and lobster with noodles, freshly baked chewy buns for breakfast, spicy laksa curry soup, barbequed duck. We've even partaken of a traditional chinese tea ceremony, where one drinks a half a dozen tiny cups of golden liquid over an hour, enjoying all the character a single batch of leaves has to offer.
Our best meal so far has been in Little India, where we ate at a popular South Indian vegetarian restaurant. As is the custom in South India, we ate with our hands (well, hand -- the left hand is not to be used). Believe it or not, eating with your fingers is really, really hard. There's a definite technique, and it involves all kinds of factors to minimize the mess. Mixing the rice and curry to get the right consistency is the first step, and then there's scooping up the right amount of food with the right part of your right hand. Finally, you need to get the food to the right elevation -- too high or too low and it ends up all over your chin. Slurping up the food seems to work but beware the odd grain of rice going down your windpipe. Despite the messy (but fun) complications, the food was delicious. Our rice was accompanied by an array of about ten small curries and sauces, most unidentifiable, and all absolutely delightful.
We've got another two meals to go before we leave, and Kate and I are intent on making the most of them. But what do we choose? Dim sum in Chinatown? Satay from the vendors at Clarke Quay? Greasy noodles from one of the restaurants that spill onto the sidewalk below our hotel? High-class chinese at one of the hotels? I wish we had more time...