"Like Chang and Spanish for 'please'..."

The title to this post is the incredibly ridiculous clue Erika texted me when I begged her for a hint for my birthday surprise. It was Friday the 11th of June and I was about to meet her at our flat. As instructed, my bags were packed the night before and I had my passport ready. Having absolutely no idea where I was to spend the weekend (was the passport instruction a bluff? how about the swimming trunks?) it was killing me that I couldn't suss out her clue.

Like Chang...Spanish for please.

We got into the cab at our flat and he pulled off. I knew that if he was to hang a U-turn on Ramkamhaeng from where we live, then that would mean the airport. If he was to carry straight into town, it would mean a couple nights in a swish hotel or a bus depot to take us....where?

Like Chang...Spanish for please.

The cab did a U-turn. Airport.

"Really?" I asked.

Erika just gave me a 'who knows' with her eyes.

"Ok" I said to her, Erika getting more smug by the minute. "Chang sponsor Everton. Everton are based in Liverpool. Like Liverpool....Por favor. Liverporfavor. No? Hmm. Scousers. Scouse por favor..."

"Don't concentrate too much on the football team" she said, "More on the sponsor".

"Ok. Like Chang. Chang is elephant in Thai, so...it's like an elephant...rhino por favor...horn...rhino horn...aphrodisiac por favor..."

Erika was getting a bit bored of me being useless. "Listen, forget elephants and scousers. Which beer is like Chang??"

"Leo? Leo por favor?"

"No, babe."

"Singha?"

"Keep going."

"Singha por favor...OH MY DAYS! NO WAY?"

"What?" Erika said with a smile.

"Of course! It's so obvious!"

I was born in Singapore in 1978. We'd left when I was about 16 months old and I'd never been back since. I knew nothing about Singapore. It's odd not being able to picture the place you're born, although it never really bothered me that much and I'd honestly not given it that much thought. But when I'd deciphered Erika's clue I'd suddenly became incredibly excited that I was about to revisit my place of birth - albeit 30 years on!

As I write this I’m in fact twenty minutes into our Air Asia flight from Malaysia to London, as we’ve just stopped off in Kuala Lumpur for a couple days before heading to Blighty. Erika asked me to get on with this post so she can start watching Gossip Girl on the Mac. Ah well, I’m still a nervous flier so this will keep me company until the wine is served. Our next post will be about this trip…

We took Singapore Airlines from Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok and the flight was fine (it will be hard to beat the excellent service of Qatar Airways, our airline of choice from Bangkok to South Africa earlier this year).  The flight was only a bit less than two hours and before we knew it we were queuing for a cab. I was breathing the air of my ‘real’ hometown for only the second time in my life. Unfortunately, the first things you notice as a new arrival in any airport are the mundane. Such as the uniforms the cleaners wear and the make of the luggage vans on the runway. I know…riveting stuff. But honestly, after living in Thailand for almost a year, the first thing I noticed was the organisation of the cabby's picking us up. This was starting to confirm Singapore’s reputation as a clean and efficient country and we were flying in from Bangkok, which is…well…the opposite (kor tort, krup, but that’s why we love you).

Into the back of the cab we went and were whisked away to our budget hotel, a windowless but clean place called Classique Hotel on the Jalan Basar road. We arrived late on Friday night and knackered after a working week, so went straight to bed. When I popped outside for a ciggy (will be quitting again in three weeks…), I suddenly got paranoid. I checked out the surroundings and could see that although this wasn’t the most upmarket area of Singapore, all the bushes were pruned and there was not one piece of litter anywhere. Not even the tiniest piece. It’s right what they joke about here – Singapore is a ‘fine’ country. Spitting, jay walking, littering…pretty much anything considered normal in SE Asia, is illegal. I made sure I blew my smoke as tidily as I could and stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray outside. Then I stubbed it out again. Didn’t want to start a war…

Waking up early and wanting to see if my cigarette had caused Singapore to implode (it hadn’t), we made our way out to the street and started our wanderings. We headed south to Arab Street and stopped off for some noodles in a Chinese stall along the way. 

Singapore is pastel coloured and things seem to be disciplined on the streets. Even the rubbish bins look neat and tidy and there was not one stray dog or cat to be seen. Living in Bangkok, where I casually spotted a massive rat running up a wooden toilet wall last weekend, had made me accustomed to seeing dogs, cats and other beasts on the streets. In fact, I prefer it – so long as they aren’t rabid. And hungry. 

Arab Street is a road accommodating all sorts of Middle Eastern goods, such as colourful fabrics, perfumes, pottery and what not.  The first shop we came upon made their own perfume and I found myself waiting patiently for Erika to go through every bottle in the shop until she settled on ‘rose’.  

We meandered aimlessly a bit and suddenly found ourselves at the end of Arab St. This is something that would happen more and more on our trip to Singapore – the allocation of various cultural areas in this city is distinct. You can physically draw a line down a street separating it’s whole mini-culture from it’s neighbour. Singapore is small. If you’re up to it you could pretty much walk the whole ‘country’ in a couple days. Think of it as more of a city because the walk from Arab Street to the marina was only about thirty minutes. 

The marina is where you’ll find the theatres and the iconic lion fountain.  The surrounding skyline here, which also takes in the commercial part of Singapore, is pretty impressive. Especially the three skyscrapers that have a huge ocean liner on top of them…

As the sun was starting to really make itself known, we decided to hop on a tour bus run by a company called Duck Tours. It’s called this because it’s main attraction is an amphibious vehicle that can whisk you from the main streets straight into the harbour.  We didn’t’ know this until we were on the bus….ah well.

First stop, Little India. If Arab Street was for fabrics, then Little India is for food. Sure, there are fabrics here but the first thing that hits you as you walk into this section is the smell of curry and incense.  It’s a little bit more hectic here but still ordered, as if the government had installed some sort of ‘social upheaval index’, which would sound an alarm if anyone dared to bang a cymbal. Still, it has it’s own unique character and once again we were drawn to the careful, multi-coloured architecture that surrounded us. Even the old buildings looked ‘designed’ as if we were on a movie set. We found an Indian restaurant where we dug into some delicious cuisine.

Just round the corner are these two skyscrapers that are designed to trick the eye in thinking they are two-dimensional from certain angles.

 We passed the famous Raffles Hotel…

 …and the Singapore Flyer...

 ….both of which we visited later on that evening.

On the way back to our hotel we dropped into a little market nick named the ‘thieves market’. Not sure if it’s literal but it’s basically a boot sale where you can buy everything from battered old violins to old blank cassette tapes to rip off t-shirts.

 A japanese all girl band getting ready for a gig somewhere...

As part of my amazing birthday present, Erika booked us a (pricey) meal on board the Singapore Flyer. It’s claim to fame is that it’s one meter taller than the London Eye. We turned up and our butler for the evening poured us red wine while we waited for our very posh ride. It’s a bit heavy on the old wallet but I’d recommend this for anyone. You share a pod with four other couples and get your own table right next to the window so you can look over the Singaporean skyline at night. Erika’s terrified of heights (but not flying??) and there were a couple wobbly moments when the wind shook the wheel but you’ll only have to brave it for an hour, which is two rotations. We ate a juicy roast, both dishes served in a rush by the waiters when the pod passes the embarkation area after the first spin.

You can’t go to Singapore and not have a Singapore Sling at the Raffles Hotel. Built in 1887 and named after 'The Father of Singapore' Sir Stamford Raffles, the Singapore sling was invented here by a Chinese bartender about 100 years ago. I loved this place – think Victorian architecture embellished with Malay and Indian fittings. Not that you’d notice it too much after a few bottles of red and a Singapore Sling…

Sunday, already? Yep. I’m 32 years old. We had enough time in the morning and early afternoon to quickly explore Chinatown and visit the house where I was a baby. Chinatown was much like Arab Street and Little India where it was not exactly wholly disappointing but not wholly stunning either. If you can imagine how Disneyland would design cultural centers, then this would be it. Chinatowns all over the world are normally chaotic and vibrant affairs where you would feel that you were on someone else’s turf. Here, however, there are no little alleys leading to frenzied shops, no ancient men barging their way down the road with trolleys full of chickens, no packs of dogs fighting over the last bit of buffalo tongue. Funnily enough, because of these organized neighbourhoods, Singapore takes on it’s on charm and character. Sure, it may not seem totally ‘real’ but you can’t suppress the human urge to make somewhere home, no matter how restricted home has to be.

Our last place to visit was the area where I was born. Luckily enough, on the bus going towards Nambly Close, where I spent my first few months on earth, we passed Gleneagles Hospital which is where I was born. For the first time in my life, and thanks to my wife, I’d seen where I came into the world. And on my birthday to match!

And on Nambly Close. Although I think the original bungalow has now been knocked down...

To sum up Singapore? Erika and I disagree. She thinks it’s amazing as it’s a bite sized Asia, and although it’s expensive (pint of Guinness was seven quid…during happy hour), it’s well worth a visit. My view? A great place to live if you just want things to work. If an engineer was to design a country, this would be it. Efficient, orderly and safe. I’d prefer to live somewhere with a little danger, maybe even a few surprises around the corner. 


Although it was, quite simply, the best birthday present I could ask for.