The glass panelling of the arrival corridor nicely fuse into modern styling and warm lighting. I nod my head in appreciation as it seems that this airport is much more than the usual sprawl of wide spaces with worn tourist paraphernalia and tired linoleum. As usual, my bladder doesn’t let me go any further without being travel ready, so I make a quick detour to the washroom less than 5m away.
Surprisingly, the bathroom is not an aforethought, rather eco friendly territory. I’m not a tree hugger, but the aesthetics are well done. Its greenery meets porcelain scenery, spacious and clean ‐ a semi‐luxurious latrine. Tastefully placed plants, automatically flushing toilets and auto activated taps make my tinkle an enjoyable sprinkle. I grimace at my rhyming monologue.
I pat myself down to check that I haven’t left anything, then leave the Gents to proceed to appropriately stand idle on the travellator, past the various departure waiting lounges, separated by glass walls and buffered by ambient music. The binary attendees of an airport, the soon to be dearly departed and the recently arrived, seem to exude an almost relaxed attitude atypical of travellers at this convenient almost “up‐market” point of entry and exit. Granted, it is late at night and the crowd is far less than maddening, but Changi airport feels like a 22nd century shopping mall that planes “happen to land at” and that’s how people should feel when travelling. Taking off and landing shouldn’t be a trip, it should be a journey.
This techno‐wonderland has me in a spin, mod cons like free internet kiosks abound and I am pleased to see, as I activate my smart phone that the wi fi is 5 bands strong and unwavering. “The wi fi force is strong in this one”, I utter to myself in my best Alec Guinness impression. I find myself walking past a plethora of upmarket brand shops, eateries and cosmetic stores and down the quickly travelling escalator. I prepare my best sheepish look for immigration, but it’s not required as the lines are short to middling and move quickly ‐ almost painlessly – when compared to some of the sprawling immigration mauls I’ve encountered elsewhere. I like the efficiency and I cross my fingers hoping that the ease of this airport is reflected in the rest of the country.
Though I travel frequently, I use the excuse of jet lag to rationalise that my palette needs some dumbing down. I make a mental note to stop at the duty free store for some liquor. I scan past immigration to see an oasis of bottles, conveniently located by the baggage claim. I make a bee line, and begin to browse the aisles in search of varying degrees of liquid numbing agents. I pause at new world wines, but eventually select a couple of bottles of Absolute Vodka (Citron and Mandarin) and a bottle of 12 year old whisky. Sweet liquor in tow, the bespectacled Chinese lady at the counter reminds me in a clipped and high pitched English that I can only take in total, 1 litre of spirits, meaning I have to excise my choice. I choose amber over the clear, and also moderation over libation – cutting my choices down from three to one. A bottle of duty‐free Macallan whisky is snugly packed in my trusty hand luggage, nestled next to a worn Wired magazine and a crumpled long sleeve light weight Nike running top that I wear on flights as a top layer to keep me warm.
I join a quick moving queue to where I’m efficiently directed by an orderly orderly to a blue Comfort Taxi Cab waiting in bay three of many bays. All in all, it’s just about half hour in total from plane to taxi. The taxi driver is a wizened Indian chap, with a little shrine of Ganesha on his dashboard.
English is no problem to him (it’s the first language of Singapore, after all) and we’re away. This is truly the “land of the free to get to your hotel as soon as you can”. I sit in expectation and glance at the scenery whipping past. It’s about a 15 minutes’ clear run through shadowed highways to the centre of the city from the airport. Tropical trees and greenery line the roads and the ocean, at this time of night, is a dark low roar to the left, hidden by the neon frippery of beach restaurants. The greenery is unexpected, and nice. Middle rise dense apartment blocks or HDB’s (Housing Development Buildings, where the majority of Singaporeans live) are signs of a city. Other signs become apparent to me, very quickly. To the left, a golf course, lit up like day despite it being 11pm, is a searing eye opener. It isn’t your typical soft yellow light with many large
light bulbs arrangement ala an American ballpark. This is a pocket of day‐like intensity, as if the Greek god of the sun, Apollo himself was playing golf there.
The golf green that sits below the motorway shifts and drops away. We’re driving over a bridge. There is a body of water below, hemmed in the distance by a low dam and framed by the backdrop of the ocean peppered with faint blinking beacons in the far distance. It’s a forest of ship shadows moored and echoing a city in its own nautical fashion. The motorway then curves upwards like the back of a dragon, and all of a sudden, in the foreground the Singapore cityscape looms ahead of us in a dense mass of logos dotting the silhouette of dark concrete rectangles, and broken intermittently by ribbons of single lit floors inferring late night office workers and cleaners.
I crane further forwards to look over the driver’s shoulder. He smells faintly of cigarettes. On the left, the Marina Sands Integrated Resort and Casino beckons ‐ an honour guard of three buildings with a giant platform spanning across the top of the trio – like a surfboard lain down over three curving fingernails of a Mandarin emperor, or a modern day attempt at a noahs ark.
The driver, sensing my curiosity tilts his head to the left, and indicates for me to look again to the left. I cant believe I’ve missed a giant ferris wheel, looming and neon with slow changing ambient colours – the Singapore Flyer. It’s a nice concept, but I’ve never been one to move slowly in a large circumference, just for a view ‐ but what a circumference!
The taxi driver seems to absent‐mindedly bobble his head, as he shifts up a gear and as we enter Singapore city proper. A large electronic signboards indicate the number of parking available at the shopping malls and parking buildings nearby. At this time of night, there are a more than a thousand available. As we drive past, the 479 parks, which belong to the Esplanade, shifts down one. We take a left turn, through the ambient glow of a large TV screen and towards my intended abode for the next few nights, the Mandarin Oriental hotel.
My first impression, as I walk through the sliding doors emblazoned with the red fan symbol of the hotel, backpack slung over shoulder, is that the hotel lobby feels cloistered without a walk‐in‐and‐ wow dynamic. The lobby is a neat space instead of an open space, with sharp angles, deep wooden panelling, black shiny floor and shadowed areas. The hotel staff are dressed in purple figure‐hugging Asian skirts and jackets, and flared gold coloured collars. They are efficient, and it’s a click of a return button before they direct me to the central dynamic behind me, the three internal columns
which house the elevators. I board lift 2 and I’m lifted up, past the ceiling and suddenly into a large atrium, with the hotel floors lining the walls around. That claustrophobic, cloistered feeling leaves me as I’m awed at the shift from lobby to hotel. The overall sense of the place has a Zen‐like, Bladerunner atmosphere, deep moody lighting with modern Asian stylings. The effect is breathtaking. The room is nice, and I heave my backpack into the corner, and divest myself of all my belongings onto the waiting desk. Ten minutes later, I step into the shower to wash off the sheen of sweat
inspired by the humid night and hours of travel. In the meantime, a dram of Macallan on the rocks beads in anticipation on the bedside table. The scene is set for a good night’s rest. I’m ready for tomorrow and hope Singapore’s gadget shopping reputation lives up to the impression of a technology infused city that I’ve been getting. A couple of gulps of smooth whisky have me dreaming of unblinking red lights, shifting digital numbers and shiny, purring and sleek technology. I awake to my smartphone beeping incessantly. A perusal of a few apps later and I’m in the know –
it’s 33 degrees with a chance of rain and the two tech malls I intend to trawl to satisfy my gadget infatuation, or at least electronic voyeurism are Funan Mall and Sim Lim Square. According to Google Maps, Funan The IT Mall is just a few blocks away. A shower and whirl around the breakfast buffet later, I check my sling bag (whisky bottle grudgingly replaced with complimentary water from the hotel fridge) and with maps at the ready I shift into second gear and head out of the hotel and straight into an ambush.
It’s 10:41am and the humidity literally blindsides me, thwacks me in the face repeatedly and follows up with a smother attack of epic proportions. My plan to walk and get the lay of the land is abandoned for the very sensible taxi line. It’s just too effin’ hot. I inform the cabbie “Funan IT Mall”. No visible nor verbal acknowledgement – I’ve heard that Singaporeans are a rather uncommunicative bunch – but despite that, we pull out into light traffic.
The taxi driver is a quiet mass of unfriendliness, and though I enjoy the colder artificial climes of the taxi, I’m looking forward to leaving the unspeaking cold graces of the driver. We pull into a taxi rank and I’ve arrived. I dole out $6 for my $5.80 cab fare and rush up a short flight of steps, through the sliding doors and into IT heaven.
Tech‐temptation is rife through four floors of laptops, cell phones, cameras, IT equipment, games and peripherals with the big boy brands like Sony, Canon, Fujitsu, Apple and HP beckoning to me with a sleek come hither. I’m a modern day Mario in a high screen resolution pixel rendered wonderland, and I’m bouncing with joy. I’m a drooling geek.
I make a couple of purchases, and no bargaining is required. I’ve done my net research and have gotten a few peripherals thrown in with the details. I’m also buoyed by my travelling philosophy‐ if time is short in a new country, then buy the goods at the first destination ‐ you never can tell if you’ll have the time to backtrack and return. My new Bluetooth Jabra headphones and free Bluetooth mouse from Challenger Electronics store, located on the fourth floor, are nestled next to the half consumer bottle of water in my sling bag.
Against my better judgment and chance of consumer regret, I decide to check out the other IT destination, Sim Lim, just to see what it has to offer. The heat must be getting to me – I’m reeling off to myself words rhyming with Sim Lim. Slim Jim, Kim Tim, Him, Glim… the next taxi in line pulls up.
If Funan is a better organised and less crowded wonderland, then my arrival at Sim Lim is a Hunter S Thompson acid induced trip. It’s a goblins bazaar with tweeters and web cams and USB cords and part timers handing out brochures at every escalators landing. There are many more lesser known brand names – brands from China where the quality is, well, questionable, but the pricing, always almost too good to be true and if so, then you are probably getting what you pay for. The sales people are slick, and a little bit more abrasive. It’s the difference between tissue paper and sand paper. If you have a thick skin, then it shouldn’t be too much of a difference to you. You have been warned.
My soles ache, and its not my flat feet – a family trait that I’ve had the misfortune to find myself with these many years. I look down at my feet, and what answers back is a sarcastic yawn from a previously faithful pair of Asics. I need new shoes.
I navigate my way out through one of Sim Lim’s teeming exits, eyes still scanning the various games shops and camera stalls as I walk by and out to the street corner. After a five minute wait and five large slugs of water (the bottles done, unfortunately), my flapping arm waving is enough to flag a taxi down. Or maybe the cabby takes pity on me.
It’s a crooning dirge with a tinny sound more attributable to the cheap speakers than the song that greets me as I land in the backseat of the taxi. The cabby is a balding skinny Chinese chap, short sleeved white button shirt and a wavering and unsure manner. I tell him I need new running shoes and he recommends Queensway Shopping Centre as the place to head to. I give him the go ahead, and we’re away through the bustling mid afternoon traffic of Bencoolen Street. As the scenery turns from city to suburbs populated by HDB buildings, Cyril Yong (as indicated by the licence in the top left of the front window screen) settles into a narrative about himself. Cabbies all over the world are
alike. He asks where I’m from and says he can tell that I’m a good man. He tells me he was a good student and always came in the top three of his class during his youth.
“...without even needing to study, I can get the best grades...I was gifted. Even my classmates would ask me how I did it, and I tell them it is a gift. Mathematics, Science, Chemistry, everything was easy to me. Then one day (he honks his horn to remind the car next to us not to drift across lanes) I fell and hit my head, and I hurt it very bad see...so bad, I needed surgery. I was taken to hospital and after surgery, my mind would wander, and I would constantly forget things..appointments, equations...formulas...how to apply them. My gift was gone...now I drive and sleep and sleep and drive, drive the last 20 years regretting the day that I fell and hit my head...being so forgetful” Lucky for me, he remembers how to get to Queensway. I round up the cost of the trip, remind him to be thankful for what he has, and wish him luck. Everyone has their lot in life, but they are the only ones that can make themselves happy – but only if they choose to. I sigh, lift my shoulders and turn.
There’s a large soccer billboards draped on the outside of the faded orange coloured medium sized building, worn in appearance. I enter, and see that the place is literally jam packed to the rafters with sports shoe shops, a smattering of games and streetwear shops and optometrists, with a scattering of food stalls here and there.
I’m confused. It’s a busy day, and the layout and almost identical shops hem and haw from every direction. I browse through the crowded small stores – and note that shop assistants aren’t very vocal or outwardly friendly. I make a mental note to be proactive in securing some help. I take my time to browse the shops along the ground floor, buying myself a cup of corn and a warm drink of barley from the stalls in the crowded central area. It helps sustain me over the shopping chaos of young boys crowding and peering at soccer boots, basketball shoes and runners. Soon enough, after
comparison of the same shoe at various stores, I make my purchase at Sportslink that seems to sell its shoes for $5‐$10 cheaper than its competitors. The salesman, an old stooping Indian man with drooping white eyebrows and a light purple turban was right, it was the best price at Queensway.
My old runners, having served me well, are rewarded with a throw into the trash bin, as I leave the premises wearing a new, very clean, very white pair of Nike Le Bron James street shoes. Street cred up a few points. It may cut against a man’s grain to do so much shopping, and when that’s combined with the tropical climes… I check my watch. Most definitely beer o’clock. It’s back to the hotel for me for a quick shower and a spruce up. I leave my newly purchased gadgets, and the sling bag on the bed and break out my best James Dean – a sleek black t‐shirt and blue jeans. After a generous lather of hair gel and a spritz of Armani Extreme, I’m back out the door.
Destination: the Quays of Singapore – Boat Quay, Clarke Quay and Robertson Quay – more than 10 blocks worth of bars next to clubs, upon restaurants and eateries over the length of a few short kilometres.
The taxi drops me off at the far end of Boat Quay, the south bank of the Singapore river, and nearest to the CBD district. The area is famous for its pubs occupying the two‐ and three‐storey shophouses. It does look old world – a hark back to the earlier days of Singapore when coolies laboured the streets. The river is a nice backdrop, and in this early evening light, the water is a deep green, and it’s more than a stone’s throw to the other side. A tourist boat makes it way down the middle of the river whilst I gaze down Boat Quay.
It’s a crowded walkway with the pubs on one side and compact tables under marquees by the river side. Patrons and passers‐by pepper the area and waitresses shuttle back and forth from the pubs, across the walkway, to the tables. TV screens are propped, nailed and screwed to awnings, corners and marquees and more often or not, soccer is the viewing of choice. I also see food, and sea food – there’s famous Singapore chilli crab available at the various restaurants, in addition to Indian cuisine (North and South). The native beer of Singapore is Tiger beer.
It’s “tiger time”, so I turn into the nearest pub available to grab a quick cold beer. The place is called Harry’s Bar and despite the heat, I feel brave enough (or could it be pre‐dutch courage?) to sit at a table outside to watch the crowd go by. Naturally, the crowd seems full of tourists and expatriates – many Caucasian faces, ruddy with the relentlessness of Singapore’s humidity. I do note that alcohol is definitely more expensive than most other countries, with my pint of beer being $11. I try to make
it last. Based on my reading about the background of Singapore, such a young country having independence foisted upon it in 1965, it could have easily have lingered amongst the pageantry of third world status countries that seem to characterise South East Asia. But it seems it hasn’t, and right now in this instance, it seems to have done pretty well. I finish my last drop of Tiger Beer, and lurch in search of food.
HIS INDEX
HE SHOPS
Far East Plaza, 14 Scotts Road
Hours: 10am‐10pm;
Get there: Nearest MRT Orchard
Used to be that Far East Plaza was the mecca for streetwear labels. It’s still got a few now (Black Chamber is one), but the rest of the mall has degenerated into a maze of low‐priced, poorly made but well‐picked clothes for the young. Aspiring boutique owners set up shop there and sell various bric‐a‐brac in nooks and crannies.
Funan IT Mall, along North Bridge Road, opposite Supreme Court Building and Adelphi; map 3 B4
Hours: 10am‐10pm;
Get there: Nearest MRT City Hall or Clarke Quay
Funan, nestled a few blocks away from the CBD, is an up front catch all of all things electronic and peripherally electronic. Everything is above board here, and prices are set. However, if you’re good, you can perhaps convince the salesperson to throw in a peripheral or 3 to sweeten the package – can you say “complimentary mouse and carry bag”?
There is also Lucky Plaza in Orchard, but locals mutter about it being much less reputable and shady. After experiencing the rather aggressive vendors, despite the almost unearthly cheap prices, I believe there is a reason to lobby for a name change to the Plaza and yes, I’d say at that place, prices are indeed too good to be true.
Queensway Shopping Centre, 1 Queensway, off Alexandra Road; map 3 B4
Hours: 10am‐10pm;
Get there: Nearest MRT Commonwealth, bus 14, 33, 51, 61, 93, 100, 195, 197, 571, 573
If you can get past the dingy look and mostly last season shoes, you’re sure to enjoy picking from a cornucopia of treads for your feet at a good price. Negotiating is possible.
Mustafa Centre, 145 Syed Alwi Road, tel: 62955 855; map 2 B3
www.mustafa.com.sg
Hours: 24 hours
Get there: Nearest MRT Farrer Park; bus 23, 64, 65, 66, 130, 131, 139, 147, C3
24hr shopping madness! Located in Little India, if you are suffering a bit of jet lag why not head on down – as the earlier hours of the morning are often the most lively!
Sim Lim Square, 1 Rochor Canal Road, tel: 338 3859; map 2 B3.
Hours: 10am‐10pm;
Get there: Nearest MRT Bugis; bus 23, 48, 57, 66, 67, 170, 851, 960, 980
Draped with electronic billboards and blade runner like marketing, Sim Lim is a veritable building of beeps, tweets and greets. Bargains are possible, but it’s best that the buyer beware in this bazaar of bleepin’ gadgets. If you can negotiate well at Sim Lim then prices can come down. However, be prepared to have bought that item, only to see it cheaper at a shop at the next turn. So when you do go to Sim Lim, scout out the whole place, and ask for the prices at the shops that you feel comfortable in, or check the brochures that are being handed out. Sim Lim has a reputation for
trying to pull a quick one, so you have been warned.
Tip: When you’ve finally targeted that precious purchase, and especially if you’re passing through, always be sure to ask whether the product is supported by an international warranty. My foray into Sim Lim, the vendors claimed that there is a local warranty, but on clarification, it is the shop vendors that will try to fix the item and not the product manufacturers. Funan is more reliable in this aspect, but please be aware. Always be sure to also get the business card of the sales person. At least you can be sure which person to target if things go wrong.
HE EATS
Black Angus, 1 Tanglin Road, #01‐08 Orchard Parade Hotel, tel: 6734‐1181.
Hours: Mon – Sun
Get there: Cab
The lunch deal is exceptional. Though the steak looks raw, its rarely out of taste. Relaxed and near the shopping district, it gives you that timeout from the shopping hassle.
ABC Restaurant, 365 Joo Chiat, at the junction of Joo Chiat Road and Duku Road, tel: 6346‐8549
Hours: Open 24hrs
It’s a brim full of Teh Tarik (pulled tea) on the 365 and Prata at most hours (they usually rest the stove from 11 to 3, so try to get your prata before then). Try a “plaster”, prata with egg, if you want a fortified feed.
Fat Boys Burgers, 18 Mohamed Sultan Road #01‐01,tel: 6735 8840
Hours: 4pm to 12 midnight Mondays to Thursdays.
12pm to 12midnight Fridays to Sundays and Public Holidays.
Make your own or try the “Fat Basterd” or the “Elvis”. With names like those, how can you go wrong? There are other branches, but unless you’re a local or staying for a while, this one is the most convenient and near to where it’s at.
Brewerkz, 30 Merchant Road #01‐05/06 Riverside Point, tel: 6438 7438
Hours: 12pm – 12 midnight Mondays to Thursdays; 12pm ‐ 1am Fridays toSaturdays and eve of
Public Holidays; Sundays 11am ‐ 12am
Try the burgers and watch a game on the big screens that are ever presenting the hall‐like
atmosphere. Or sit outside and watch the river. Across from there, Clark Quay which does more than come alive at night, convulses in a apoplectic fit of party.
HE IMBIBES
The three Quays, Boat, Clark and Robertson in the heart of the city are the place to be, if you want to sip a brew and catch the in‐crowd.
Harry’s Bar, 28 Boat Quay, tel: 6538 3029, www.harrys.com.sg
What started as a humble jazz bar in the bowels of Boat Quay is now a 29‐fleet big stable of
gastropubs, the Big Foot in Singapore amongst bars. The Jazz burger is a particular recommendation of size and taste – it’ll sing to your taste buds…
Tiger Brewery 459 Jalan Ahmad Ibrahim, tel; 6860 3005/007
Hours: Mondays to Fridays. Four tours conducted daily at 10.30am, 2.00pm, 4.00pm and 6.30pm;
reservations essential.
If you find yourself with an evening to spare, take a 40 minute taxi ride out to the industrial outskirts. The APB Tiger Brewery tour takes you through the brewing process. Unlimited samples included!
Entrance: $10.70 per person
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