12 hrs and no sleep later I arrive in Singapore. Into the air conditioned airport. I buy a ticket for the shuttle bus into town and while I’m waiting do something which I’m still hanging my head in shame about. I had a Burger King. This isn’t the remorse of someone that has broken a diet. No, vows to eat local when travelling and has poured scorn on those that stick to recognisable chains. Anyway it was the only place within eyesight of where I was supposed to wait, I’d been told the driver would be calling me any minute and I’m starving. This is the last time I promise myself.
So the shuttle (£4.50) arrives and we head downtown. I could have got the MRT (tube equivalent) for a quarter the price, but when arriving in a new place I like to be above ground for a while to get my bearings.
Home for the next two nights was to be the Mitraa Inn on Serangoon Rd in Little India. A modern hostel, in fact I think I was the first to stay in my room. I had arrived 2 hrs earlier than the permitted check-in time. I was in no state to go exploring before a shower so just hung about in the common room. I got talking to a fellow traveller Jahan from Jasper, Canada. It turned out we had about the same list of things we wanted to see and do so it made sense to join forces.
It was now about 1pm, 5 am at home and I’m shattered. But the best way to deal with jet lag is to press on through and go to bed at a normal local time. So after a quick shower Jahan and I meet back in the common room to find some food.
Round the corner we found the Lavendar Food Centre. Around 30 food stalls , surrounding 100 picnic tables under a tin roof. We didn’t commit ourselves too early and surveyed the stalls as if it was a menu brought to life. It was hard to choose from satay, dim sum, pineapple rice etc. But very easy to decided what I wasn’t having, frog leg porridge. And there was me thinking Heston’s Snail porridge was his bonkers originality. Anyway, we settled on the place with the biggest queue (top tip) for steamed pork dumplings. Each one of these glutonus parcels exploded in the mouth. A little porky, chivey, broth spilling out before munching on the sweet, savoury tender pork. As we ate we watched a guy make noodles so expertly it would have been rude not to try…so we had a bowl of those too.
Tummies sated we headed for the Colonial District and Raffles hotel. Now, we all know the story, the Singapore Sling was invented in Raffles Singapore. We know it would be clichéd and touristy to go and have one there, we know it will be extortion, but the lure was too great. Well readers if any of you ever end up in Singapore and like me you think, ‘what the hell’. Don’t. It was everything I thought it would be and less. Because along with the sickly sweet taste of the pre-made Singapore Sling made on mass and poured from a plastic jug by a miserable barman, you drink in the sour regret of paying £15 for the privilege of knowing you’re a mug.
Anyways. We pressed onwards. Heading back north to the hostel. Sod all what the ‘top ten things to do’ leaflets said. I loved roaming the streets and without a map or guide needing to tell me just knowing from the people and buildings I had moved from the Colonial District into Little China and back to Little India.
By now I was more than a little tired and walked out. It was now around 7 and still a boiling 30 degrees. We reached the hostel and concluded that neither of us was up for a ‘big night’. Had some Indian food and it was off to bed. Not together obv.
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