Disneyland

 

Hey Laurie, you just survived a 12 hour flight, now what are you going to do? 

 

I’m going to Disneyland!

 

I arrived 3 ½ hours into Tel Aviv airport before my flight, went through endless and stressful security checks (basically a repeat of 10 days ago), then onto my 4 ½ hour flight to Paris which was late.  Air France kindly held the plane to Singapore for the few of us on that flight, but we had to run through the terminal to the very last gate.  As soon as I got to my seat I felt claustrophobic, and after dinner my legs felt funny, like I needed to constantly move them, then I got nauseated. I felt something like vertigo.  One of the stewardesses had medical training and thought it might be poor circulation.  I think I was just exhausted from the Israel trip and the stress of getting out of Tel Aviv and onto the Singapore flight. Anyway, they took good care of me and finally brought me up to first class to lay in the seat that flattens to a nice bed.  I think I slept a good 7 or 8 hours, though the 1^st class attendant subtly told me to go back to my seat as soon as I was able.  No warm breakfast rolls for me.  Disembarking, I got the wheelchair treatment, and was embarrassed that they’d sent for it, but was still dizzy.  The wheelchair guy was quite entertaining, asking me if I wanted to shop at the giant duty-free store (Singapore’s only tourist attraction seems to be shopping), showing me a picture of his bonsai tree (clipping it takes lots of time but helps him not listen to his girlfriend), and telling me that I need to see the new airport terminal that has a cinema with no entrance fee, so you can watch full-screen movies while waiting for a flight!  

 

My friend Christian greeted me with his big smile and got his workout by carrying my suitcases.  Since I’d had a good night’s sleep on the plane, we went out for drinks (why not?) at an outdoor mall, Clarke Quay, on the Singapore River where the old town center used to be.  He said it had been “spruced up” a bit from former warehouses, and it definitely had been.  It looked like Disneyland, each building a different pastel colour with white trim – the icing on the cake being a Hooters.   But Singapore really is one big Disneyland.  The place is so clean.  Chewing gum is illegal, unless it is by prescription (so we figured either a nicotine gum or jaw fitness gum would be available).  There are fines for everything – even riding your bike in a street underpass would cost $1000.  Being naked, apparently even in your own home (maybe someone else can see you!) is illegal.  So is oral sex, but prostitution is OK.  The Chinese women who immigrate here often write on their papers that they will be prostitutes.  Christian said the oral sex law had been recently reviewed, and while they finally allowed it as foreplay, it is still illegal, even for married couples.  The thinking (if you can call it that) behind this is that Singapore is trying to increase the birth rate, so they encourage sex of the procreating kind.  But ads of women in bikinis are censored.  The men here seem to have either all or nothing.

 

Another peculiarity which explains all the prettiness of the place is that Singapore wants to be a utopia – they really want everyone to be happy.  (I got some photos of advertisements around town – they even use the word “happy” nauseatingly.)  There’s a Ministry of Community which is basically in charge of keeping people happy and thinking up new ways to make them even happier.  So residents, tourists, and business people are kept pretty well entertained.  From what I’ve read in the tour guide, I’ll be experiencing lots of kitsch in hopes of making me happy.  Stay tuned…

 

After vegging out at Christian’s for a couple days, I grabbed a taxi (they’re so cheap here – and air-conditioned) to go back to Clarke Quay.  Arriving just before noon, I was the only person there except for the guys installing the Christmas lights.  A next-door mall had a Starbucks (I resisted) and a few open stores.  I bought a t-shirt for my niece – a “happy” t-shirt, of course.  It had been raining all morning, but I conveniently forgot my umbrella, so I sat down for lunch in a coffee house on the water, listening to and watching the pouring rain. Had a chicken sandwich with a coffee sauce on it – very interesting – good, too.  Unfortunately Singapore hasn’t yet covered every sidewalk to make me happy when I forget my umbrella.  So keeping close to cover, I found a group of art galleries on the ground floor of an office building.  Only one really held much interest for me.  I asked about their artists, but they’re all Asian and only those who have lived in Singapore. 

 

I thought I’d waste a bit more time under the cover of Clarke Quay (where the scent of jasmine is everywhere from the jasmine trees – that made me happy).  As I mentioned, shopping is really the only tourist attraction, and Singapore just doesn’t get that people can also go shopping in Paris and London and the Camarillo Outlet Stores, so that’s not the best strategy.  But that’s someone else’s problem.  I’m about shopped-out because even with sending home a box of winter clothes already, my new suitcase from the Cairo bazaar plus the old one are already both at 20kg again!  So aside from a prostitute, the only other thing to really waste your money on in Singapore is at a spa.  Now, of course, this is a bit tricky here.  Across the street from Christian’s place is Happy De Spa (is that French?).  But a friend of his went and was charged an extra $5 for being female, and Christian was asked never to patronize the place again since he didn’t want any extra services.  So I hadn’t planned to go somewhere that Christian or his friends didn’t tell me was safe, but a very nice spa above one of the ritzy restaurants in Clarke Quay caught my eye.  I cautiously climbed the quiet stairs, lined with huge bouquets saying “Congratulations on Grand Opening”, and although they looked like funeral flowers, figured the place was OK.

 

Inside, Spring Spa was gorgeous, with a lobby and lounge and upscale healthy little café, all in red and purple colours (to match the flowers and make everyone happy, I guess).  I was warmly greeted and signed in, the second person of the day.  So I got ear candling (the second time in my life – really cool!  -- worth a try for anyone!) and a massage and foot reflexology.  The ear candling lady also did facials and manicure/pedicure.  I needed my nails done, but figured I’d be in the place long enough that today wasn’t the time.  I still wanted to do a bit of sightseeing – whatever that was.  The massage was great!  Not only Swedish massage but lots of work on my upper back – my worst spot – with some chiropractic stuff, too.  She complimented me on my boobs. 

 

After a hot shower, a tall blonde Chinese guy worked on my feet.  I couldn’t feel them for hours afterwards!  It was great!  They were still needling me to get a facial (I hate facials) and my nails done, but I was ready to leave (well, not really – jet lag still seems to hit me about mid-afternoon, so I could have just slept there a while).  Signing out, there were quite a few more names on the sheet – all of them men.

 

The rain wasn’t bad now, so I went hunting for the Asian Cultures Museum.  Although Christian told me where it was, I trusted the 5-year-old guide book his friend gave me.  So the AC Museum is now some other museum, and by the time I got around to asking and headed back to the new location at Clarke Quay (duh!), I was getting tired. I ordered a new pair of eyeglasses (because Dad told me to) in the “tech” mall.  A bit more walking around, noticing all the happy people, and then I headed for a happy cup of coffee from a third-floor mall lookout over the river. 

 

I spent another day at Christian’s working on my blog as well as trying to figure out what to see in Singapore (not 2-week’s worth, certainly).  I figured I could take a short flight over to Bali, but my friend Dan hit me over the head and told me I was being stupid again (St. P being the first time – well, maybe not the first) and needed to spend at least a month in Bali.  Christian said Vietnam (Hanoi, specifically) and Cambodia were quite different and would be great to go, but I need a visa for Vietnam and there were no convenient trips to Cambodia.  We thought we’d go to Sumatra (well, at least get a good cuppa joe), but Chrisitan had a meeting on Monday that wouldn’t work with the flights available.   I was tired of struggling with flights and an intermittent internet connection, with a server error in pure Sing-lish: 

The server may be a little bit broken temporarily.  Please try again in a few moments while it sorts itself out.  Error 12152

 

It was Friday night and time to go out.  In the guidebook, albeit 5 years old, under the heading for nightlife, it read “Singapore.  The whole city.  Really.”  We went to an expat get-together at an open-air bar on a high floor of an office building.  Very chic.  Giant pictures of Mao, Kim, and Bush filled the wall behind the bar.  Then dancing among the prostitutes at Insomnia until 4am.  Of course being the clueless person I am, I didn’t know most of the women were prostitutes (hey, most women from London to LA wear short shorts and lace bustiers to go dancing – not dressed but going out).  I guess the guys know quite quickly that the motivation is not love but money.  That’s a bad segway to another philosophical discussion, but one which I don’t have the energy nor knowledge to write about, especially at 4am.