Making Snow in Singapore

This weekend Mike and I decided to get creative. Or rather, Mike decided to get creative, and I stood around and carried things and said "oh that looks good baby!"

The past week or so, Mike's been working on a matte painting that he described as an aerial shot of a snow covered canyon with mountains in the background. I haven't seen it, but it sounds delightful. Now, Mike's project this weekend was to take a picture and use it in his matte painting. The problem is, we're in the jungle; there are no canyons here, there is no snow here. So we had to improvise.

At first we tried taking pictures of rocks, but it's hard for a rock to look like a canyon or a cliff. We wandered around the little park behind our apartment, climbing through grass and ant hills to get shots of the rocks that line the pond, freaking out the gardeners and generally making a nuisance of ourselves. Mike had his big Minolta, and I used my little digital camera. We probably looked like the world's most insane tourists; "look, this is a rock we saw in Singapore! And here's a mound of dirt!" It was fun, though, we haven't been through the park in awhile and we hardly saw anybody other than the occasional passerby or jogger. Despite ant bites and sweatiness, it felt great to be outside without having to run errands or catch a train, just enjoying the views and the sun.

After we finished with the rocks, it was time to try to make it snow. We found an old board someone had discarded, and we set it on a table in the park and I proceeded to cover the entire thing in flour. Mike even blew on a few spots, to create snow drifts. I have to say, it really did look like snow, especially once you got up close.

We got covered in flour, but I love little projects like this. It reminds me of being a kid, setting up scenes with my troll dolls and Skipper, Barbie's little sister. (Mom wouldn't let me have Barbies. Apparently they promote a bad self image or something.) I like feeling like I'm part of what Mike is working on, I so rarely get to help him and to be included in that part of his life. I loved seeing him in that mode, though, he looked so focused and excited, and I couldn't help taking pictures of him, too. He just needs a bigger beard, and he would fit right into one of his books on the matte painters in the 70s. They look like a bunch of hippies playing with miniatures.

Sunday we went to a small dinner party at a friend's house. We're the only Americans in our little group, but there are quite a few Canadians as well as the Australians. We talked about food again, and Target, and cheap drinks, and all the things we miss from home. It's fun to talk to people from different countries, because even the English speaking ones have different words. Australians especially have their own way of talking that's really fun. They like to shorten words, and at first it's totally confusing. They call sunglasses "sunnies" and swim suits "cozzies," which is short for bathing costume. Now I normally don't condone abbreviations, and forbid anyone from vocally using the term "LOL," but for some reason I really like these terms. I think it may be the accent, but "sunnies" is such a happy word, it just sounds more fun. Also, they have their own term for white trash: bogans! I also like this term, because I can't for the life of me figure out how it came into use. White trash is pretty self-explanatory, but bogan? Who knows? What I do know is that it makes me feel warm inside to know that no matter where you go, every country has their own version of rednecks. It's a small world after all.

Chinatown

Friday we went to Chinatown for the first time, which is in south Singapore. A lot of foreigners think it's confusing or redundant that's there's a Chinatown here, since something like 75% of Singaporeans are Chinese. But Singaporean culture is a lot different from Chinese culture, since it's a mixture of Malaysian, Filipino, Indian, and more. And actually, some of the Chinese here are what's called Peranakan, which means part Chinese and part indigenous Malaysian. So it makes sense that there would be a specifically Chinese area, just like there's Little India and Arab Street.

Chinatown here is similar to the Chinatown in San Francisco, it had the same sort of messy, chaotic feel that I can only assume is innately Chinese. The streets were a bit narrow, with lots of shops and restaurants packed along the way. We saw a lot of street vendors set up, which is something we haven't seen much of yet. The food courts are so popular in Singapore, the only street food we normally see is ice cream sold from little carts. But we saw a lot of carts set up down one street, so we got some delicious dim sum rolls as we walked along. It was raining lightly, so everything looked wet and slick, and it added to the overall feeling of disorder. The photos I took came out a little blurry, but I think that totally helps with the mood. It's pretty much how I saw everything anyway, since my mind was cushioned by beer and food.

It was nice to be in that vibrant atmosphere, away from the usual orderly and spotless malls and streets of Singapore. There were lots of lanterns strung up (which I guess China has claimed as their "thing") and they looked so festive and colorful against the rain and dark sky.

It was fun to just meander through the streets, looking at the shops and eating satay and spring rolls, followed by beer and dumplings. We passed a huge and bright red Buddhist temple that was three stories tall at least and all lit up in lights.

Part of me wants to go back during the day to look around some more, but I kind of like the fuzzy, bright and loud impression that I got from our night. I'd hate to replace that memory with something more ordinary.

Saturday morning we finally caved in and did something we had been putting off for weeks. I knew it would happen eventually; once we learned about it, it was really only a matter of time. We tried not to, really we did, but it was raining outside and we didn't want to leave, so we did it. We had McDonald's delivered. I don't know how this happened, what insane and cruel individual thought this up, but it doesn't matter now. The point is, it exists, and there's no way to stop it. You just go online, select what you want, and within 20 minutes, SOMEONE BRINGS YOU MCDONALD'S. Who thought this would be a good idea? Isn't McDonald's bad enough, does it really need to come right to my door? There needs to be a middle man for this type of food, to keep me away from it. There needs to be some shame involved, but I won't feel bad if I'm eating fast food in the privacy of my own home. This is a dangerous thing, my friends. A dangerous thing indeed....

Night Safari: When Nature Calls

Thursday night we decided to check out the Night Safari we've been hearing so much about. They have a lot of posters up for it around town, and basically it's the zoo, but at night! It turns out it's a really big tourist attraction, because we saw more white people standing in line than we have anywhere else in Singapore. It was like being in a Gap.

We got on a tram, which takes you around the different animal enclosures. It was like Jurassic Park, but without the screaming. While some of the animals were boring and sleeping (looking at you, lions), a lot of them were nocturnal so they were up and about. We saw creatures I've never even heard of, like a binturong, also called a bearcat because it's a kind of cat that looks more like a bear, and smells like popcorn. Seriously, I'm not making that up. You'd think it'd be a hindrance to smell delicious in the wild, but maybe that's why they're endangered.

There was this adorable animal called the slow loris, which is a small monkey with huge eyes that moves like a sloth. It had it's butt to us, and it looked like a miniature bear trying to slowly climb a tree. Every slow loris should be accompanied by circus music, they always seem a little confused but good sports. I want one as a pet, I would name it Slow Laura and let it wander aimlessly around the apartment.

We saw Asian elephants, which are a little smaller than African elephants but obviously still enormous. They had two females and one pissy male, who had to be kept separately because he's moody. Apparently he throws things at visitors, and charges people who use flash photography. Now, I'm not a scientist, but maybe this guy shouldn't be in a zoo.

We saw some very friendly servals, cats who came right up to the glass and tried to play. There were free roaming tapirs, who walked behind the tram for a little while and look much bigger up close. A babirusa, an uncomfortable looking pig with four giant tusks growing out of it's mouth. We went to a bat enclosure and saw giant fruit bats and small brown bats. The fruit bats were cool, just chilling and eating bananas, but the brown bats were flying around being obnoxious and pooping on everyone. There was a German family behind us, and when the crap starting raining, the little boy marched over to the door and announced something in German that I'm pretty sure translates to "screw this, I'm not getting shat on, I'll be outside."

The last stop on the tour was the deer section, which was kind of anti-climatic. I guess they don't have too many deer in Asia, but coming from Texas, it's like having a hamster exhibit. There were a few different kinds who all looked alike to me, except some had spots and some had smaller spots. Then we came upon the mousedeer, which totally redeemed the whole section. A mousedeer is a hilariously small deer that's no bigger than your forearm. It has these little spindly legs and a fat furry body, like someone stuck long toothpicks into a potato. Instead of those useless miniature chihuahuas, girls should get these to carry around in their purses. They're less trembly and way cuter. I kept laughing whenever I saw one, they just look like cartoon creatures instead of real animals.

(Side note: I didn't get a chance to take a lot of pictures, since it was dark and I didn't want an elephant having a mid-life crisis charging at me. I did manage to get a few good ones of the servals, since they seemed as interested in us as we were in them. So you'll just have to use your imagination or Google to see what the other animals look like.)

It ended up being a lot of fun, even if it was a bit touristy and overpriced. Totally worth it to see the mousedeer and the slow loris in all their natural hilarity, plus it was interesting to see some of the animals that are native to this area. If I ever run across a slow loris in the wild, it's coming home with me.

Pulau Ubin

I love three day weekends, but they somehow go by faster than two day weekends. Must be some sort of paradox in the time-space continuum. Friday night we went to a club over near Arab Street called Blue Jazz. It was neither blue, nor was there jazz playing there. Our friend Nick is moving to New Zealand, so this was his goodbye party. The bar had three levels, and the decor looked extremely nineties. I mean that in a relatively good way, I felt like we were drinking in the apartment from "Friends." We had a bit too much to drink, but it was nothing compared to the shots some of the boys were throwing down. Jägerbombs? Shudder. We had a great time, but lord did we pay for it the next day. Saturday turned into a recovery day, which was spent watching Alien movies and drinking copious amounts of water. Hangovers are even worse here, since you're usually somewhat dehydrated to begin with. I think I'm officially at the point in my life where going to a bar is just no longer that appealing. The drinks are overpriced, the music is loud and always terrible, and it's impossible to have an actual conversation with anyone. It's fun while it lasts, but it's not worth feeling like crap the next day.

Monday was National Day, and one of Mike's fellow matte painters asked us if we'd like to go to Pulau Ubin. We jumped at the chance, since we've heard great things about it. Pulau Ubin is an island just off the coast of Singapore, and it's the only real "kampang" or village left. You have to take a ferry to get there, since it's totally surrounded by water. They take you over in small groups, and the ride only takes about ten minutes. The boats are old and wooden, slightly rickety and damp. You can smell the smoke and gasoline fumes and see the jungle up ahead. We started quoting Apocalypse Now and that kept us busy for the whole ride over.

Once you reach the island, it really does feel like a separate country. There's no city here, no big buildings and new cars, no huge crowds of people. There's no electricity on Pulau Ubin, everything is run off of generators; there's no telephone poles sticking out or street lamps along the way. You have to leave before it gets dark, or you'll be lost in the jungle. Where you alight from the boats, there's quite a few little shops, most of them are bike rental places plus a few stores selling drinks and snacks. We walked along until we found some bikes that looked decent. We let our friend Eric and his fiancé handle the bargaining, since they're Filipino and we tend to get overcharged. We got our bikes, stocked up on drinks and re-applied sunscreen, and then we headed off.

There are hundreds of trails around the island, but it's quite small, only about 10 kilometers. We started out on a wooden and concrete path, it led around the coastal region of the island. The land gets really muddy, very swampy and steamy until you get to the water. There are huge sections of mangroves, which are trees that can grow in salt water. They look like crazy upside down trees, since their root systems are all exposed. It's like a giant came by and just started yanking the trees up.

We kept walking along the path, which eventually let out over the water for awhile. We could see Malaysia just across the way; you can take the ferry there too, but it takes a little longer. We saw these fiddler crabs in the mud, which I found hilarious. They're these little orange crabs and the males have one giant claw. Just ONE, mind you, so they look lopsided. They use them to fight, and I couldn't stop laughing at these tiny crabs knocking each other with their single over-sized claw. It was like watching nature's most pathetic arm wrestling match.

                                        

Seriously, don't they look hilarious? Poor little crabs; I feel bad laughing but it honestly looks they each have  a severe and localized case of elephantiasis. High five, dudes! 

Once we left the coast, we went inland and found a bunch of trails into the jungle. Some of the trails were dirt paths and pretty wide, but some were little more than slightly flattened grass. The worst was one that was really rocky and downhill, I swear I bruised parts of my butt I didn't know you could bruise. Everywhere we went seemed more lush and beautiful than the place we went before. At one point a helicopter flew overhead, and I swear I had a flashback to 'Nam. We found small houses and temples buried amidst the jungle, and we stopped to get drinks. I think most people who still live on this island survive by selling water and renting bikes to tourists. The homes have their own gardens, and chickens and rabbits in cages. The deeper you get into the jungle, the quieter it is. It's that strange loud quiet, where the noises of monkeys, birds, falling nuts and snapping trees somehow add up to silence. 

                                      

By the end of the day, we were covered in sweat, dirt and bites, and tired and sore from riding for hours. It was worth it, though. I can say without a doubt that this was the most beautiful place I've ever been in my life. Being surrounded by giant trees and vines, the way the light filters through the canopy--it was like being in a movie, it felt so unreal. Every picture you take looks like a screensaver on someone's desktop computer. When we reached higher ground, the views were spectacular: just shades of green as far as you can see, until your eye hits the water. Some parts were jungle, some parts looked more like forest, and then some parts were granite, left over from old quarries abandoned a long time ago. Part of me wanted to just stay on the island, set up a little bungalow and sleep in a hammock. I'm sure a lot of people feel that way, but luckily they don't act on it; the less people change this place the better. 

                                        

We finally found our way back to the village when the sun started to set. We were exhausted but exhilarated. Looking around at the small buildings, the stray dogs and faded signs, Mike and I both said we finally felt like we were in Southeast Asia. This is what we had been picturing when we envisioned our future home, a place unaffected by time and technology. We bought a couple coconuts from a vendor, they just chop open the top and stick in a straw and spoon. We were so thirsty and tired, I swear it was the best thing I've ever tasted. By the time we made it back to a ferry boat, the sun was almost gone. Looking back at the island from the boat, it was just all in darkness. Pulau Ubin is now my favorite place we've been to in Singapore, but I have to say it's not really Singapore. It's a place out of sync with the rest of the world, and that's what's so appealing.  

Searching for the New

Most of the time I love that Singapore is so westernized. If you need an American cheeseburger, they have it. Clorox bleach? Check. Your specific brand of tampons? Oh thank god, yes. But sometimes it's entirely too easy to forget that we live in an exotic country, literally halfway around the world from home. Some days I'll be laying on the couch, reading a book and eating the very same pretzels I enjoy with such abandon back home, and I'll forget I'm not living on the third floor of an apartment complex in south Austin. At times like that, it's such a jolt to get up, stretch, and notice palm trees glaring accusingly at you from the window. "Go outside," they say. "Do something foreign, you lazy American."

My friends, as much as I hate to kowtow to wise cracking palm tress, I admit that they're right. The problem is that because Singapore is so similar to home, it's more difficult to find places that seem inherently foreign. But Mike and I decided our goal for Saturday would be to wander around Bugis Street, looking for places to remind us we're on an adventure. 

It worked right away, mainly because Bugis Street is insanely crowded, crowded in a uniquely Singaporean way. It's just an unmoving sea of dark-haired heads, everyone jostling to get the attention of vendors selling juice, food, t-shirts, food, jewelry, tourist trinkets, and food. Pushing through the masses only leads you to an equally crowded fruit market, where we saw a eye-smarting array of mangoes, star fruit, lychees, and longans. And of course, a large stand of durians, the self-proclaimed "King of Fruit." (I'm not really sure how a fruit can proclaim itself, but I fail to see how else it got that nickname.) We got some longans to try, which look like little brown nuts, and they're not bad. Sweet and juicy, but they also have an underlying flavor I can't quite put my finger on. Longans are also called dragon's eyes, because once you peel them, the actual fruit is a milky translucent color, and the seed in the center is black. They made Mike's mouth and hands tingle, so I'm not sure if he should keep eating them. 

After fighting our way through the crowd, we wandered off for awhile until we spotted he Victoria Street Wholesale Market. We've passed by this place before as it's on the way to Arab Street. It's a big complex with a bunch of storefronts facing out, all covered by a giant red canvas. We've never gone through it, because it always looked a little empty and rundown, and it smells really strongly of fish. But since we didn't really have any plans, we figured why not? 

I'm really glad we walked through the market, because this was what I'd been looking for. This is the kind of place that reminds you you're in a totally different world, full of foods you've never seen before and you can only guess at how to eat. There were giant baskets and tubs of all kinds of dried fish, dried mushrooms and chilies, bright red sausages hanging from the ceilings, big blocks of uncooked ramen noodles, nuts laid out to dry, and tons of jars of sauces. As it turns out, the dried fish smell a lot better up close than they do from far away. We've had some of the little tiny silver ones in fried rice dishes, but never the big ones. Mike, ever curious, asked one of the store owners how you cook with the fish, and she said they're for soups or for grilling. And she said you don't have to soak the fish first or anything, you just throw it on the grill and eat. We didn't get any to try this time, but maybe in the future we'll fire some up. We walked all around the complex, and even though it was Saturday, it seemed very slow. The only customers were older men and women, wandering around and looking at the wares; I saw an older lady sneaking a raisin out of a big tub of them. There was one old man who was walking around, shirtless and barefoot, carrying a bag of dried shrimp, and he seemed to sum up the whole feeling of the market.

As we were leaving, another older lady with a red umbrella was walking towards us and she gave us a huge smile and said "Welcome to Singapore!" She asked where we were from, and we said the United States. For some reason, when older people see us, they love to ask us where we're from. (But in a nice way, not in an Arizona way ohsnap!) She got very excited we were from the U.S., and she told us she loved snow, even though she'd only seen it on TV. When we told her we were from Texas, she said she has a friend who lives in Houston who works at American Express and whose name is Lorraine (hey!). She said goodbye and told us to enjoy our vacation as she walked away. Mike and I didn't bother to contradict her, it didn't seem polite to correct her and say we live here now.

Besides, the more I think about it, the more I agree with the nice lady. Yes, we live here, but we're still just visiting. We ARE tourists here, there's really no way we can be anything but that. My desire to see the foreign parts of Singapore is precisely what makes me an outsider; if you consider something to be alien, then you mark it as being not your own. The only thing foreign at that fish market was me. I don't think I'll ever say the word "home" and mean our place here, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I may be a tourist, I may be on a two year vacation, but I'd rather be earnest and naive than blasé about this experience. I like discovering new things, trying different flavors, and being surprised. If that makes me a visitor, well that's fine by me.