Singaporean Mornings
I flew to Singapore in an endless night. I flew out of Vancouver after I watched the sun go down. The cabin lights were kept dim until the descent. I slept most of the sixteen hours and woke up in the dark on the other side of the world as the sun was coming up.
Customs was completely automated. Entering the country without talking to a single human felt efficient, but utopian. I wondered how they identified people who were bringing in contraband: things like chewing gum and cannabis. The flight attendant had announced before landing that marijauna possession was punishable by death. With it being common and legal in Canada, what if you forgot something was in your bag? Same for Trident. There was a rumour that one of the crypto guys at the conference my partner was attending was stopped and arrested at the border for bringing in a large amount of condoms.
When I’d checked into the initial flight from Edmonton, I’d been advised to fill out the online immigration card. I scanned a QR code and when I arrived in Singapore it was just a matter of scanning my passport, being photographed and then fingerprinted. Robotic gates let me into the country.
Signs were in English; I was relieved. Cars drove on the left side of the road - they kept the British custom. Driving into the city from the airport I could have been in any city, anywhere. The jungle vines and giant trees reminded me of the freeway in Seattle.
We saw the Marina Bay Gardens and F1 Track as we got closer to Marina Bay Sands. This is what we came for. The hotel has been on our bucket list since the first night we met. Well, it had been on my partner’s bucket list, and after he showed me I’d adopted it to mine. We made it, thanks to the conference giving us a reason to go all the way to Asia for a week.
I’d never been to this side of the world, and the ultra-clean and ultra-strict city-state felt comfortable as an introduction to the continent. Honestly, it felt pretty international and westernised. Not once did I panic over feeling lost or unsafe or did I experience culture shock.
Checking into the hotel was like entering a big resort in Las Vegas. I suppose that makes sense, as it was the Sands groups, same as the Venetian. Customer Service was more hospitable and effusive than I’m accustomed to in North America. The same expensive cars were parked on the drive as I’d see at a high end hotel: Bugattis and Lamborghinis and Ferraris. An F1 car was on display entering the lobby, making atmosphere for the races coming the following week. A large metallic cloud of thin rods hung several stories up over the lobby. Everything was shiny. I smelled flowery, perfumed air of a casino hotel as the air conditioning chilled me on check in.
Have I seen too many resorts and hotels to become desensitised to the grandeur? I’ve travelled a lot in life and stayed in some stunning places. Was the city bland or was I jaded? I hoped there’d be more once we got into the city.
We made a quick once-over of the room, a crisp king sized bed, large, granite walk-in bathroom with Jo Malone toiletries on the larger travel size. There were bath bombs for the soaker tub. I appreciated that. Our balcony looked over the water into the Singapore Strait where the barges sat waiting to go to the port. We admired the view and then rushed up to the pool. That was the real highlight of the hotel I anticipated.
Fifty-seven stories up as the sun rose, I ordered a mocha and a fruit salad from a QR code as I laid back over the Barcelona chair at the edge of the pool. Heavy, muggy air was making my wavy hair curl into my face. The tourists were taking photos. The skyline was pretty. I read that they had chosen foliage that could tolerate the constant breeze. The overcast sky hadn’t yet burned off so we didn’t consider the sun being an issue. There was complimentary sunscreen though too, if needed.
My mocha had real chocolate in it. To make it last extra long I ordered an extra shot of espresso from the mobile ordering system, and it appeared before the flavour could sour. A passionfruit and mint syrup over my fruit salad (of melons and pineapple) eased my upset airplane stomach. We ordered a set of pastry, the European version of breakfast. Over the next few days I’d have Scandinavian, Chinese and Japanese breakfasts at the pool. I still daydream about the dim sum. It was just simple shrimp dumplings and siu mai but the salty umami flavours and just-rightly steamed texture pleased my whole body from my mouth. Sometimes the filling is too mushy or wet, or the opposite it's overcooked so the wrapping doesn;t stay right. These had the right bite and I could have eaten bowls and bowls of them with the lightly spiced filling.
What makes warm salty foods so comforting? I found it endlessly, in the soups, in the dumplings, in the braised meats and morning broth. The full-tummy feeling of satisfaction and cozyness delivered through a clear brothed noodle bowl or a murky rich ramen. Congee for breakfast with fried onion flake and chicken floss.
This meat floss was a condiment to many dishes and I saw it sold in specialty meat shops. Its made by stewing some sort of meat in sweet and salty spices, then drying it so it becomes stringy and crumbly. It sort of dissolves into the flavour of the dish. I’ve never seen it elsewhere. There were pork and chicken and fish and duck versions.
I dozed at the pool each morning, watching the sky wake up as the city came alive. The time change was a full 14 hours ahead so night was day and day was night. We never really adjusted so the days started at 4 to 5 to 6 am.We ate well, sunned well and rested well.
