Singapore – The Exodus

Waking up boiling in the morning sun as I lay in a pool of my own sweat on Thursday morning, two things occurred to me. Firstly, I should make more of an effort to ensure the curtains are closed before I go to sleep. Secondly, Crispian’s air conditioner had stopped working. Hence, I got up, had a cold shower and watched some television.

A few hours later, Crispy awoke and we decided to go out for brunch. It was 2pm, but Crispy still preferred to refer to it as brunch. We met Sheue Yng there and afterwards she came back to Crispy’s house with us before we went out again.

Tonight would not be a repeat of last night. Crispy had very little money and I was happy to go to a restaurant where the total bill would be under $100. We went out for hawker food in Geylang, which is the red light district of Singapore. The food was mostly street vendors and hawker stalls, which is fine by me as they are the best food anyway, they’re mighty cheap.
We had a fantastic meal, the entirety of which was less that my share of the meal the night before, and then set out to stalk the mean street of Singapore. Luckily, the gorgeous Sheue Yng had the protection of Crispian and I. it’s not really any different to a red light district in any other country. The thing that struck me the most is the huge amount of hotels. There is a hotel chain called “Hotel 81” with charges $10 per hour for a room. They are everywhere. Usually two every block, which I thought was completely excessive as we are talking about 40 – 60 rooms per hotel. However Crispy made the point that it’s not just for the prostitutes, many couples use them for premarital sex, so as not to let their parents know what’s going on. I just used the back seat/ front seat/ boot/ bonnet of the car myself, but whatever works I guess…

We didn’t stay there that longs, because just like the shops, if you’re not actually planning on purchasing anything, it’s kind of retarded to continue looking at the product. We went home and had a fairly early night.

The next morning I woke up with plans to go to the gym, go for a swim, get packed up and leave the sweltering heat of Singapore behind me. I took things fairly easy in the morning and when I was about to head out to the gym, the heavens opened and it rained heavily for about an hour. I then took the short walk to the gym, which I found out was closed for renovations, so I went to the pool. It was really only a lap pool, and I was more going to cool down rather than exercise, but I figured as I didn’t go to the gym I should get some exercise. I swam a few laps in the warm water and realized that I was hotter now than before I got in. Apparently I am not suited to living in the tropics. I guess it’s a good thing that I am expecting to be spending much of my time on the snow over the next period of my life.

I went to the shops to grab a bite to eat and I thought I’d pick up some expectorant/decongestant to try to clear my chest and reduce my chances of being quarantined upon my entry to the UK. I asked the lady wearing the white coat in the pharmacy, and she replied that she would just ask the pharmacist. I thought she was the pharmacist, but whatever. She then gets on the computer and starts a video call with someone in another location. She then asks me to come and speak to the screen. I am now standing in a pharmacy in Bishan, speaking into a microphone, looking at my own face and that of the pharmacist on the screen. I say that I just want some expectorant and she asks me to speak louder. Her words come through via standard computer speakers next to the screen. So I am now effectively yelling my request into a screen at a crowded chemist, and all I can think is how glad I am that am not asking for something embarrassing such as treatment for genital warts or the like. She eventually says that she’s going to prescribe some Dimetapp, or similar and I finally get what I want and make my exit.

As it was my last day in Singapore, I decided to take one last wander around the shopping centre. On the top floor I find a hair dresser. As I walk past, having no intention of getting my hair cut, I notice that you get a haircut by placing your money into a machine, which then gives you a token, which you then give to the hairdresser to get your hair cut. I decide this is a little different and I might as well have a crack. I pay my money, I wait in the seat numbered 1 as I am then next in line for a cut. People not waiting for a cut themselves must wait outside, so that prospective patrons do not get an excessive idea of the wait time for a haircut. I know this because of the clearly displayed rules on the hairdresser wall.

The kid getting his haircut in front of me finished, and the hairdresser swept all his hair into a corner where she then flicked a switch and a vacuum sucked all the hair from the corner. She than asked me to sit, opened the mirror to reveal a storage space for me to place my bag, and I sat down for my hair cut. She was very precise, and quite fast. There was no chit chat, and she did not try to sell me a tub of wax for $50 when she had finished. She simply vacuumed my head and sent me on my way. I wish haircuts in Australia were more like this.

I arrived home, packed up all my stuff (forgetting my $160 worth of Vitamins, a fact I would not realize till somewhere over Turkey) and waited for Crispy to return home. Crispy, Rae and I all went to the airport to meet up with Sheue Yng, who was also flying out to Paris that night. We met in terminal 2, which Crispy mistakenly thought was the terminal he had picked me up from 4 days earlier. We then went to terminal 1 so I could check in my bag, and we all ate dinner together. I tried Popeye’s chicken. It was not as impressive as Chris Tucker would have led me to believe. We then dropped Sheue Yng off at Terminal 3, only after I got some photos of myself with the lovely lady in her Singapore Airlines uniform.

So, our unintentional tour of all terminals of Changi airport completed, we all walked to the furthest section of Terminal 3 to get a coffee and have a chat. The chat mostly consisting of me being unable to understand why Crispian didn’t absolutely love Terminator: Salvation. We may have taken that conversation a little too seriously as I realized my plane was boarding and we were possibly as far away from my gate as we could be. It all worked up though as I got to the gate, arriving just as my section of seats was being asked to be seated and found my seat next to a middle aged balding man. It seems that invisible sign that asks for me to never be seated next to an attractive female is still attached to my head.

The trip itself was brilliant. I slept for about 7 hours and had no major dramas. The only thing of any real note was that I was listening to my iPod as we were coming down for landing and LES Artistes by Santigold came on. The main line of the chorus seemed very fitting, “I can say I hope it will be worth what I gave up”.

I now sit inside terminal 4 at Heathrow airport, having just eaten my first meal on British soil in over 20 years (and cinnamon scroll and a mocha from Starbucks for anyone that’s interested) as I now wait for Belinda to get here and guide me back to Greenwich, where the 2nd stop on the Taylorpalooza World Tour begins.

Laters