Lost All Sense and Time

Singapore, you tickle, delight and satisfy my every desire but the price I pay for this is losing all sense and time. And the cost of that can be all too dear.

Saturday I woke up with the call to prayer, packed my day bag and cabbed to the ferry terminal with Mr. Tex, the new American teacher. It was a rock and roll ride all the way across and when we got to customs I ran into one of my roommates, Ms. Novi. I introduced her to Tex, she smiled and shook his hand, then promptly turned to me, "Oooh, is it a date?"

Uh no, it's not a date. He has banking to do and I am on a quest for an Easy Yo.

Singapore is a ghost town before noon, so after Tex tried and failed to do his banking, we wandered through the grey drizzle and empty streets like we owned the city. We found a small fruit store and I paid $8.00 SD for a quarter pint of Driscoll's raspberries.Worth. Every. Penny.

After turning the corner we ducked into the Vanilla Bean, a tiny dessert shop with a great Saturday morning jazz soundtrack and a sparkling Christmas tree in the window. I ordered the chammomile jasmine tea with honey and lost myself in a meditative marvel as opulently perfumed wafts of steam rose languidly in the air. When I finally got around to drinking it, the waiter had honey sweetened it with precise, to the drop perfection.

If I pour your cup

that is friendship

If I measure the milk

That is manners

And if I stop there

claiming ignorance of taste

That is tea.

But if I measure the honey

to satisfy your expectant tongue

 that is love

Who knew a stranger's love could taste so good?

By the time we left the drizzle had become a tropical downpour and Tex and I shared an umbrella on the dash to the metro station. Re-emerging from the underground in Little India the rain had stopped but, wandering through the incense laden air, between the stalls of puja flowers and bangle sellers, I'd have been just as happy if I'd been soaking wet. Oh, India I think of you fondly and often, even if Sweet Sing has taken your place, I do hope our paths will cross again.


We found the highly recommended Banana Leaf and shared chicken murga tika masala, rogan josh mutton, aloo gobi, and curried shark flakes over a glass of outrageously priced wine. All the food is served on an  eco-friendly banana leaf plate. No need to wash the dishes after dinner, you just throw it away and it biodegrades.

We stopped for one more drink at a hostel around the corner before getting back on the MRT to walk around Clarke Quay. Here the shuttered buildings wink happily at the tourist laden boats that float by under the Read Bridge while withering backpackers drink overpriced beers on the cobblestone bistro style pub patios.

Soon we were back on the Metro to Haji Lane. It's the Osborne Village circa 1985-95 of the Arab quarter with hookah cafes, blues and jazz bars, second hand bookstores and vintage clothing. There are no cars here, and all the parties from one cafe join seamlessly with the next. 

It was here I ordered the next glass of wine. It was here reality began to pound at my door, reminding me we had a ferry to catch. It was here I began to sigh and lament and make wishes. It was here, despite Tex's prompting to the contrary, I ordered one last glass of wine. "Oh please, we have plenty of time. Why rush back to wait in the boarding lounge?"

Of course the reason we ought to have done just that is we didn't have any place to stay if we missed the last ferry. The reason it's not good to not have a place to stay in Singapore is it's very expensive to stay in Singapore and you need to search very hard for an affordable bed. So when we arrived at the ferry terminal five minutes too late it was a $200 SD reason to not have stayed for one more drink. Or, as I've taken to looking at it, that one last glass of wine cost me $213 SD instead of the usual outrageous $13, hands down the most expensive glass of wine I am likely to drink in my life.

On the plus side, I had my first hot shower since leaving home. Between us I think that was worth $200 SD.

In the morning we stepped out into a giant market on a cobbled street surrounding the Krishna, Buddhist and Taoist temples. I bought a brilliant strawberry smoothie for breakfast before we found the Sim Lim market so Tex could shop for electronics and accessories. 

We stopped at Muchos in Clarke Quay for a plate of divinely cheesy chicken nachos with a killer guacamole on our way back to Harbour Front where I found the man who will sell me my Easy Yo. He didn't have any in today, but I was too giddy over the gluten free pancake mix, pizza crust and cornflakes to be disappointed.

I couldn't look back as we pulled out of the harbour, it hurt so much to say goodbye to my dear sweet oasis of sanity, but Singapore, I can't afford the cost of loving you.