Came tantalizingly close at the National Rope Skipping Contest. During the semi-finals on Friday I was 11 seconds from assuring a spot in the finals when I missed a jump! We leave disappointed but happy because we met so many nice people during the contest-including Mark Rothstein, the world record holder. Saturday we do a lot of running around and stay up late, sleeping in on Sunday. Checking my pager, I see I had a page from the night before! Nothing was planned for this weekend at work so I figure it's a real crisis and I screwed up by not calling sooner. At the same time I wonder why no one tried to call me at home.
However it turns out to be the jump rope contest chairman. He's at the contest now (10 a.m.) and just about to begin the finals. A mistake was made in determining who got out of the semis. He tells me I was tied with six other people for the final spot and they are in the process of having a jump-off round. If I can get there immediately, I can have a shot at the finals.
Sybil and I rush out and grab a taxi to the World Trade Center. In the cab I try to shake myself awake, drink some water, and eat a power bar for breakfast. We arrive just as they are about to start the finals and Mark explains the rules of the jump-off, which are different from the regular rules. This is just a straight one-minute speed jump and they count the jumps. Sounds good to me-I just wish I was a bit more awake. I jump fairly well considering my condition but I have one costly miss near the end. There is some discrepancy about exactly how many jumps I did (it's hard to count at that speed) but I wind up just a few jumps short of one other guy, both of us well ahead of the other jump-off contestants.
So, I wind up in 11th place, when only the first 10 get prizes-and very nice prizes too. Drats! However, we decide to turn a negative into a positive. The frantic rush to the World Trade Center got our butts in gear and provides the opportunity to catch one of the ferries that leave from there to some of the smaller islands. A ferry is leaving for Kusu and St. John's Islands in five minutes! We rush to buy tickets and food, and fill a small water bottle. We're woefully underprepared but happy for the adventure.
Kusu means "turtle" and there are several legends surrounding Kusu Island and turtles rescuing shipwrecked (and sick) sailors and/or turning into an island for them to land on. There's a great old temple here that acts as a turtle sanctuary. They also have several gigantic snakes and a fine collection of bonsai trees.
Three Malay shrines for fertility, prosperity, harmony and good marriage stand precariously atop the only hill on the small island. They contain small chambers where women sit burning incense, praying and making flower wreaths as offerings.
Most of the daytrippers (no overnight stays allowed here) to this small island picnic and play in the sheltered swimming lagoons. In fact, both Kusu and St. John's seem more like parks than natural sites. Large trees and fragrant flowers abound but nature has been tamed here. It's great to see families playing together out away from the hectic urban atmosphere. There are only two ferries to these islands during every day but Sunday, so it's by far the most popular time to come and the only way to see both islands in one day.
St. John's is much larger, but still easily manageable on foot. Through the years it was home to cholera patients, political dissidents, and heroin addicts-just a convenient place for the government to dump unwanted people. The ruined remains of the housing for these unfortunate folks litter the central portion of the island. Holiday bungalows, which are fairly nice (with cooking facilities) and very inexpensive (S$125 a week), occupy about half the area. St. John's has three nice swimming lagoons. It even has a tiny hilltop restaurant, adorned with French looking seahorses and walruses and playing spacey New Age background music.
Swimming is clearly the activity of choice here and we don't have our suits! I could go in with my shorts, but Sybil is stuck so we both wade. The water temperature is just right and the sand is very fine. On the beach we bury our feet in the sand and relish the quiet sounds of the waves. Later we play around with some cute kittens and their mother and hike around.
Coming back to S'pore, we jump on a bus to Tanglin Road because Sybil wants to show me some Cultural Revolution posters she's seen for sale there. This is a subject I used to be extremely interested in. When I lived in Beijing I picked up some items there and also developed an expensive Chinese stamp habit. However, we can't find the place-I assume they were closed and had the sheet metal door down. So, we have a tasty snack of poh piah, which is a bit like a spicy turnip and carrot eggroll. Then we drift down Orchard Road popping into the Christmas mall performances-one Junior College chorus jazzes up some yuletide classics.
In another spur of the moment decision, Sybil says she wants to see the movie "Titanic". We check the Lido theaters but they have no openings until very late and I know it's a long movie. However when we get to the Cineplex, which just a few weeks ago was almost completely under construction but now seems finished, they have a last minute pair of seats. This was certainly a day of catching quick opportunities while having no fixed plans for anything-a long drifting day.
A fairly good selection of major US films play in Singapore. The theatres in our (Orchard Road) area are all new and comfortable. Seating is assigned and tickets can be bought well in advance. Movies are extremely popular so many films will sell out ahead of time, especially on a weekend. Sometimes the smaller art theatres will have a showing sell out weeks in advance. Just as in the States they have silly artsy commercials before the feature, but usually they don't show coming attractions-which I don't like to watch. Aside from "Titanic" (fabulous sinking scenes, overall quite good but not great) we've seen "LA Confidential" (surprisingly good) and "Seven Years in Tibet" (major flaws but some good scenes-worth a look). We went to see "Chinese Ghost Story" but it didn't have English subtitles. US films are shown with original soundtrack with Chinese subtitles-but they're censored! Even the mild nudity in "Titanic" was obviously cut.
Last week I finally got to meet Nick Price-our IT Technical Architect and one of the people who originally hired me. He's a very sensible guy and one of the main factors in getting me to take this job. He's been busy so I haven't even had the chance to speak with him since I've been here. I was relieved to hear he's getting back into more involvement with Singapore. We're going to become a regional hub for Indonesia, Malaysia, and possibly India. I told him of some of the problems I've seen here with the management and he seemed aware of the difficulties. He's going to hire the new senior DBA and will no doubt help to boost our group to a better level.
Just like Scrooge, Cold Storage has turned over a new leaf for Christmas. For the past few weeks, my boss, Lionel has been very pleasant and reasonable. He even generously took our group out for a nice Dim Sum lunch. He's actually an intelligent guy and less sheltered than most Singaporeans. He can also be quite humorous. He just has a difficult time dealing with people sometimes. Most unusual for a local-on more than one occasion I've heard him publicly berate the government (PAP party has held power since inception and the minority parties only have a few token seats) and the Singapore political system.
On Christmas Eve a tasty lunch was brought in for the entire home office. Mazhar somehow obtained a beer from someone and gave it to me. He couldn't drink it for religious reasons and had offered it around but I think people didn't want to be seen drinking at work, even though we were at the end of a half-day and ready to leave. I had no compunctions about downing it with my meal. After lunch a twenty pick lucky draw was held. I think the names must not have been mixed in properly in the box because our group (IT) won six of the prizes with only about 25 people in our group, and the entire home office must consist of at least 1200. I came away with fifth prize, which was a basket of snacks, chocolates and even some expensive cognac. Lionel came away with second prize, which was an even larger basket of treats.
Sybil and I were determined not to miss Christmas day the way we missed Thanksgiving. We planned a wonderful day together, full of sensations and appreciation of life. We went out to the National Orchid Garden during a glorious morning and sat amazed at the magnificent splendor surrounding us. At home we had a foot massage and then broke out our expensive Taiwanese oolong and had a leisurely tea while reading poetry and looking at a book of travel photographs. Sushi for a snack-very cheap here in the better supermarkets. Then we open our small gifts. One of the things I put in Sybil's stocking was an account of our treacherous honeymoon backpacking trip in the Northern Californian King's Range. {*****Leaving out several very nice parts here*****} Fish and salad for dinner-Dancing to our favorite Smashing Pumpkins songs ("Beautiful" is one of "our" songs {Hey, could someone help me-is the last line of the song a repeat of "I'll be under your stars forever" or is he saying "I'll be under your stairs forever" as I think it sounds like?})-A few tarot card throws-Reading a silly Edgar Rice Burrough's novel ("At the Earth's Core") aloud-A very memorable Christmas.
Another event filled weekend has passed as once again we ferry off to other islands. This time we get our first taste of Indonesia as we manage a whirlwind trip to Bintan and Penyengat islands. Bintan is one of the larger islands in the Riau chain-about 1.7 times the size of Singapore. A lot of money is being spent to convert the northern part of the island into fancy resorts but most of the island is largely undeveloped-far less than it's neighboring Riau island of Batam to the west.
First we need to get there and we are typically unprepared and winging it. Earlier in the week we called the ferry terminal and were told to arrive an hour before departure time to collect tickets and clear customs. We usually cut these times in half, figuring they are too conservative. However, after waiting on MRT connections we find ourselves 10 minutes away from the new ferry terminal at Tanah Merah, waiting for a No. 35 bus, and the ferry is leaving in 30 minutes. We know from experience that Sybil can be "half an hour late and still be on time," but she's not sure she can stretch that to 45 minutes.
I'm at the point of scraping our hastily made plans and heading out to Pulau Ubin for the day, but Sybil wants to go to the ferry terminal even if we can't make the ferry-just to check it out. I don't want to do this, so we're debating (arguing) the matter when the bus suddenly appears-so there's a chance we can make it after all. We know everything must go like clockwork in order for us to catch this ferry because we don't even have enough money for the tickets and have to find an ATM machine.
Fortunately, things couldn't go more perfectly at the terminal. We immediately find the ticket booth for the company we'd phoned and see an ATM machine about 25 meters away. Sybil runs for the ticket counter. I run to the ATM and come back with the money just as she's concluded her transaction. We fly through immigration and we board the ferry in time. No problems.
The boat trip takes about an hour and 45 minutes. We land in the town of Tanjung Pinang at the southwestern end of Bintan. Our first order of business is to find the ferry company's office here to book our ride home. It's a bit complicated because it seems there are two places we can go to do this and neither one is at the terminal. The agent in Singapore told Sybil that she thought the closest place was about 3km and "most people take a cab there." The guy at the Indonesian immigration just waves us off to the left, seeming to indicate it was much closer. Just as we step off the pier a guy ushers us off to an office right next to the ferry terminal where he says we can book our return tickets. I'm curious to hear the pitch but Sybil has her fur up and is in "tout indignation" mode so we don't stick around to check out the deal.
We start wandering down one of the main drags of Tanjung Pinang, trying not to get run over by the multitude of motorbikes racing about in every direction-no traffic lights or crosswalks so it's every man for himself on the streets. I'm thinking we have an address for the place and am reading off street numbers but Sybil eventually reveals to me that we don't know the number. So, we show the name to a woman in a shop and she waves us to the left and back the way we'd come. A man witnessed this interaction and starts following us. This annoys Sybil (she's worried he will try to collect tout money at the hotel, thus reducing our bargaining power) but I think he's just trying to be friendly. At one point he does wave us down one street that turns out to be correct and he doesn't seem to be trying to collect any money.
We find the office, which turns out to be inside a hotel that is not fancy but isn't within our budget. The ticket office people are very nice and we're soon booked. We do have to pay an extra charge for departure tax. Inside this hotel are two great old wall murals showing maps of the area. Later we'll see these same two mural maps across the street from the ferry terminal.
Order of business number two is finding a room for the night. When Sean was visiting we'd had a discussion about travel guidebooks (he carries them, I don't) and I'd conceded that they do save you time when trying to find a room. However, if you get in early enough and are just planning on walking around anyway, this advantage is negated. It's a hot day though and after checking out three places I'm getting ready to settle. The first place (Rainbow something) was full. The second (Sempurna Inn) had a cheap (20,000 rupees) dirty room with a fan and bad beds. The third (Sempurna Jaya) had a moderate (50,000 rupees) room that was slightly cleaner and had AC. None of them thrill us though.
Sybil wants to wander out of town, down the coast to the south. I don't think we'll find anything inexpensive outside of Tanjung Pinang so I think it's a bad idea. There's an enormous difference between the western prices at resort type places and the dirt-cheap local dives. However I don't mind walking a bit just to see what's over there, so we hike through a blazing sun. Isn't this supposed to be the rainy season? Just before leaving town, and past the point where I expect we'll be able to find anything, we see the Sadaap Hotel. We check it out and find it has a dirty room with AC for 30,000. We take it.
I guess I should note here that 30,000 Indonesian rupees is only about S$11.50 (we always convert to Singapore dollars now since that's what I earn) or $6.80. So Indonesia is not surprisingly quite a bit cheaper than Singapore. Actually it's inexpensive period-even cheaper than Malaysia. So with that in mind we can hardly complain about the room being terribly dirty. We do try to get them to change the sheets when we discover ants crawling all over the twin beds. They can only find one clean sheet though so we shake the other one out and later try to come to an understanding with our insect bedmates. {PS-The Indonesian rupee dropped another 20% in the few weeks since I wrote this! I sincerely hope it doesn't drop any more.}
Mission accomplished! Now we simply stroll up the coast to see what we can see. It starts to get more rural and it's great to see some local flavor. It's really hot though-we aren't more than a few degrees off the equator so the midday sun is even too much for mad dogs and Englishmen. It's not too hot for Indonesians though as we still see them scooting about on their noisy little motorbikes. When we see a small, quintessentially local eating establishment-with shade and fan-we pop in for lunch.
We don't know what we're ordering, don't speak any Indonesian yet and don't even know what things should cost. They don't speak English and have probably never had a foreigner in their place. Still, we can point at things to put over rice and nod and smile. They can point and get a young girl from out of a back room to try to tell us how much it costs. It turns out to be ridiculously cheap (45 cents for two large platefuls!) and the most inexpensive place we'll see. They don't have change and this is almost a problem until we're just able to rustle up the required bill of 2000 rupees.
We sit down on a bench along a wall. A large crowd of locals is sitting in near us in the center of the room eating, smoking the ubiquitous clove cigarettes and watching television. The show features hideous demons and other loud monsters. The locals seem mesmerized by it.
A large white cat pursues a smaller gray cat across the room and up the wall directly in front of me. They both take running leaps and climb 3/4th of the way up towards the ceiling. Somehow the fleeing gray cat is able to worm its way inside a crevice in the wall. The large white cat defies gravity long enough to poke a murderous paw in the crevice before plummeting unceremoniously (so much for the landing on their paws theory) onto the table and then the floor.
Sybil thinks we're eating something with chicken bones in it but I think it's some type of seed (turns out to be tempeh). We both agree that the other dish on our rice has something resembling spinach on it. It's good.
A Kenny G. video incongruously follows the violent demon show, causing most of the regulars to leave. A few of them knock the white cat (which has remained where it landed from its energetic fall) in the head with their feet as they pass out. The cat flinches but stubbornly stays put. A woman brings us some warm water in a glass. We're not sure if it's been properly boiled but risk some anyway.
We leave and continue our aimless hike past small houses and beautiful flowers. Already we're hearing the common Indonesian calls to foreigners: "hello mister;" "where are you going?" The sun remains merciless. We stop into a stark but shady kopi house. A few uniformed men are smoking and drinking tea at one table. A man sits mysteriously alone in another.
I don't drink coffee. In fact, I'm rather tiresome in my preference for tea and my views on coffee addiction are somewhat radical. Sybil used to drink a lot of coffee. She was formerly one of the aforementioned coffee addicts. Sybil has laudably cut way down on the amount she drinks and now only has it a few times a month, at most. She still gets a craving for it once in awhile and often tries to persuade me to have some with her. I never have, but the last time she tried I promised her we could have some coffee together in Indonesia, as the local coffee there is supposedly good.
So, we both get some kopi and linger over it. It's very strong and served in a small cup with lots of sugar-a bit like Turkish coffee. Sybil says it's very good but of course I don't know enough to tell. It's not terrible though and we're enjoying walking about and then getting out of the sun and into these local establishments. We have two thin sheets of "useful Indonesian words" that we've copied from some book. One page is mostly food terms, so it's not the broadest of vocabularies, but we study it.
Sybil goes to buy some water and pay the bill and we have a problem with the change again. A woman takes off her shoes and goes upstairs in order to find enough change for us. I've heard that making change is often a problem in parts of Indonesia, just as it was in India a number of years ago.
Rambling on, the area starts looking more and more rural. Sybil spots some strange statues out on a pier. The place appears to be a large fancy seafood restaurant, but we go in anyway just to take a look. A bunch of kids greet us as they play near a fishpond containing gigantic fish underneath an amazing mural. In fact there are several large, elaborately carved wooden decorations throughout this place. It's huge but practically deserted. We walk past bored waitresses out to the end of the pier and look at their incredible collection of brightly painted carved wooden statues.
We see Batman and Robin, Spiderman, the three Ninja Turtles, a bunch of pig, rat or rhino headed Indonesian figures, Hulk Hogan and some other musclemen, a crocodile, Popeye with a beer bottle, Santa Claus with a beer bottle (!), and many other figures. We also see several rows of older birdcages with birds inside, hanging on hooks. There's a fountain and another elaborate fishpond.
Back inside Sybil goes to check out the menu (no prices on the English version of the menu) while I peer into large concrete tanks to see things that look like enormous crayfishes crawling about. I go back to Sybil to try to rescue her from the attentions of four waitresses who don't speak English but are trying very hard to help her. Then one of the few customers around starts chatting with us. He used to work for a US agency, helping Vietnamese refugees, so his English is quite good. His name is Hery Purnomo and he lives in Tanjung Pinang.
I ask Hery about Bintan. He says there isn't anything at all in the direction we're going and not much inland either. He says there are some good beaches up at Tricora but that is 45 minutes away by car and it's too hot for the beach anyway. Despite Hery's comments, we continue on the way we're going. We figure if there are no tourists there then it must be interesting. Besides, our aimless wandering has worked well so far.
Somewhere in one of the many Internet journals I've read, I remember a Danish guy (Erik Futtrup) writing that someone told him to say "jalan jalan" whenever one of the numerous vans, taxis or motorbikes stops to offer you a ride. Indonesians must think foreigners on foot must be in need of transportation, as they will continually stop for you. We knew from Singapore than jalan means road and we guessed this phrase probably meant something like "just strolling" but we didn't know exactly what it meant. No sooner do I finish telling Sybil about this when a van stops to offer us a ride. Sybil says "jalan jalan" and the guy says "ohhhh, jalan jalan" and drives off. We continue doing this and each time the driver either laughs or smiles or nods and repeats "jalan jalan". It was quite funny for us to be communicating without really knowing what we were saying so we started making up humorous translations for "jalan jalan" such as "crazy foreigners" or "extremely horny."
We also meet a lot of school kids walking past and start pelting them with "hello's" before they can get out the obligatory "hello mister". We made some of them blush badly but we do it with a smile and they smile back. We find a small cemetery-full of umbrellas to shade the graves. They also shade the mosquitoes though so we can't stay long. We climb up a hill overlooking the harbor where we'd landed and sit for awhile under the shade of a tree relishing the cool breeze and admiring a large Socialist style statue of two children in the middle of a roundabout.
We cut down a small side street and find nice little houses surrounded by flowered buses and often with a pet bird in a cage hanging outside. Bit by bit we amble back towards town. Sybil wants to purchase sarongs for friends and family. We find many stalls selling them. We don't shop around much, we buy the most expensive sarongs they have because we don't know much about them, and we don't even bargain very much on the price, but we still get very good value for the gifts. I don't know if all of her family will actually wear them but they're very pretty and could have many uses. I'm planning on bringing mine with us when we do our long travels.
After walking around town some more we go back for a nap. We're not sure if Ramadan has started yet. We know if the fasting portion has started then there will be many more places selling food after nightfall. However, it turns out Ramadan isn't until three more days, so when we go out at night looking for food we find slim pickings. We have a few chicken satays with glutinous rice chunks in peanut sauce down by the waterfront for an appetizer but can't really find anything else. I suspect they have more active night markets and we weren't finding the good ones.
So, we settle for a brightly lit, air-conditioned restaurant. I don't like the look of it but Sybil is game and we just want to eat now and go to bed. The prices are high (for Indonesia) but we order some fish, hoping for quality. We don't get it though and not much quantity either. Noisy children spoil the ambiance as well. They charge as much for a scoop of rice as our entire lunch meal. Avoid the Indo Rasa restaurant-it's a bad place but we write it off. We're bound to have much worse at higher prices during our travels.
Night is a battle with the insects and the Indonesian toilets. The AC works well though and we watch part of the big badminton match between the local hero and a Chinese player. Next morning we check out of the Sadaap and do not miss it. Determined to go local for breakfast, I pick out a place when I see a happy old man slapping roti pratas on a grill. We get some tasty ones with onions and egg. All the early morning regulars stare at us as they enter and then briefly comment to their friends on the break in routine. We don't feel uncomfortable though and enjoy our breakfast.
During our wanderings the day before we had the foresight to ask someone where the ferries leave for Penyengat Island, which we want to visit today. A light drizzle starts to fall but we don't mind it and climb on board a tiny motorboat for the 15-minute ride. On board we meet Anwar, and then Anas and his friend (he later keeps threatening to marry her) Eka. Anwar and Anas are both 24 years old and in the Coast Guard. They are originally from Komodo-Anas draws a cute picture of a Komodo dragon. Their English is very limited but we have fun trying to communicate over the loud motor. I give Anwar my card and Sybil says they can stay with us if they ever visit Singapore. When we land they ask us if we want to go with them to visit Eka's grandmother, who lives there.
I should note here that almost all communications between us are confused because they have very limited English and we have almost no Indonesian. We do manage to get by though and eventually we learn a lot of Indonesian words. Indonesian is very similar to Malay and many words are the same. They use a Latin style alphabet and the grammar is fairly simple. It's much easier to learn than Chinese.
We wind up hanging out with Eka, Anwar and Anas for the rest of the day. Anwar is goofy and outgoing. He often touches people when he speaks and laughs maniacally. Anas is muscular and inwardly emotional. He smokes a lot even though he knows he shouldn't. He speaks the least amount of English but often tries hardest to explain things. Eka is only 20, small and shy. Her head is scarf-covered and she carries a 7-Eleven (one of the companies owned by my employer) umbrella for protection. Her English is better than her male companions and Sybil spends a lot of time trying to talk to her.
After visiting with Eka's grandparents in their small home we go to a community house where they seem to know everyone. Pictures are taken and then we all go out to climb a bukit (one of the few words we know already-hill) where we find the remnants of an old Dutch fort. Penyengat was used as the traditional burial ground for the Riau Rajas (who were once allied with Jahor) during the 18th and 19th centuries. The island is filled with the elaborate graves of these Rajas and their families. Many of the gravestones are carefully wrapped with cloth to protect them. The locals, including our trio, say prayers into the graves and Anwar carefully writes down the long names of the more famous Rajas on a piece of paper.
The mosque on the island (from 1832) is still in use, so we head there for a rest (santai). We climb into one of two shelters sitting on planks for people to rest between prayers. I think this might be a great place to meet people in Muslim countries because lots of people try to talk to us while we rest here. An old man smoking a cigarette bangs a drum with a bat for the call to prayers and most of the people go inside. Sybil, Eka and Anwar go off in search of a rest room, leaving only me, Anas and two mothers with small children. Anas rests or plays with the children while I look at a Muslim picture book depicting stonings and epiphanies. Everyone returns and several people invite us to join them for lunch or to see the island. We politely decline and make lunch plans with Eka, Anwar and Anas.
On the boat trip back to Tanjung Pinang, I mention that I want to pick up some salaks (Asian fruit that is pear shaped and has what Sybil calls "armadillo skin") so when we land Eka goes on a quest for some. We find some, tasty and cheap, and I buy a half kilo and pass them around. Then we go to a restaurant for some excellent Penang rice. Some of Eka and Anas' friends who we'd just seen on Penyengat are also there! Eka calls for more chili peppers and she and I eat many of these ("I like chili," she says). We pick up the tab for our new friends-the bill for the five of us is about the same as last night's dinner bill.
We have about an hour before we need to catch the ferry but we want to pick up a few things at a grocery store so we say good-bye (selamat tinggal) to Eka, Anwar and Anas. Sybil pretends that we're heading straight for the ferry as we part and I argue with her about what I perceive to be needless fakery. Why not simply let them know we want to go to the store first? Sybil claims it would only confuse them since it is difficult enough to communicate. I mistakenly accept that it doesn't matter.
After we go to the store and sit for a bit drinking some yogurt, and then make our way to the ferry terminal (fortunately still early for our boat) Eka runs up to us and gives us two maps of Bintan and Penyengat. I had mentioned at lunch that we wanted to get a map and she had promised to mail some to us as she had some at work. Turns out she works for the local tourist board and her photograph is on one of the maps! She must have hurried over to her workplace and picked them up to give to us before we left. I hope she wasn't waiting too long.
Raju, our senior DBA, is headed for Grand Rapids, Michigan. From there he'll soon be moved somewhere, but he doesn't know where yet. I'm happy for him and have tried to help him prepare for the move. He's extremely concerned about the cold weather since he and his family have always been in warm climates. He'll be missed, both at work and at lunch, which I often take with him and Mazhar.
Stopped by the Campers' Corner in the Paradiz Centre and chatted with the manager, Calvin Tay. Campers' Corner is the only shop I've seen in S'pore with serious outdoor equipment. Calvin organizes backpacking and climbing trips. We intend to check out his next excursions.
New Year's Eve I had to leave work early because of stomach cramps. You must see a doctor here in order to take any time off of work because of illness. So I had to visit Dr. Lim and she gave me some medicine. I slept off my tummy troubles and went out for a midnight showing of the Hong Kong film "Intimates" at Marina Square. The theaters there are one of the few in town that offer "love seats" or double seats where couples can cuddle during movies. However, they chose not to play this film, which involves lesbian characters, in one of the theaters with "love seats." The censors also brutally snipped up some scenes.
During the half-hour walk home we found that Singapore was full of activity at 2:30am. Plenty of New Year's parties were still in full swing and many people were out and about. Of course we also saw several casualties to alcohol overindulgence sitting on curbs or doubled over at bus stops.
For New Year's dinner we opted for non-local cuisine and instead made ostrich burgers (which taste like chopped sirloin) with black-eyed peas (Sybil says they're good luck) mixed with rice and garlic greens.
Took a Sunday trip over to the Kranji War Memorial. This is an extremely well cared for WW2 cemetery commemorating the men and women who died during the Japanese invasion. Their names are inscribed on stark concrete walls atop a hill. Many flowering plants adorn the graves. It is a peaceful place of remembrance. On the way in I noticed that a racecourse (for horseracing) is under construction nearby. I hope this won't spoil the relative solitude of the cemetery.
After Kranji we took a bus to the Sungei Buloh Nature Park. Wow! How did it take us so long to discover this place? It's a fabulous natural wetland area, full of mangrove swamps, lily ponds and mudflats. The primary attraction is bird watching and there are plenty of interesting birds to see-far too many species to mention. The park has many sheltered hides where you can peek out at the birds without disturbing them. We also saw lots of other wildlife including some fat, six-inch long spiky caterpillars, a spider the size of my hand (really!) in a gigantic web up in a tree, many butterflies, three wild dogs swimming through the swamp, lots of crabs and shellfish, and many monitor lizards. Some of these monitor lizards were far larger than any we've seen before-two were the size of a small alligator. They made a tremendous splash in the water as we came near and deftly swam off.
While walking on a boardwalk over a mangrove swamp, Sybil says she wants to see a mudskipper and a kingfisher. Soon after we spot a mudskipper comically worming his way up the root of a mangrove, and later see some more. I see a kingfisher fly past but unfortunately Sybil misses it. We'll have to go back.
There a great deal of natural beauty at Sungei Buloh but there are also sobering reminders of man's foul encroachment. The northern parts of the park border the Straits of Johor. It's so close you can hear the prayers being broadcast from the Mosques there. Unfortunately, all of the trash from the Straits washes up here and gets tangled in the mangrove roots. It's sickening to see how much there is. Most of it seemed to be Styrofoam but we also saw a sofa, a motorcycle helmet, a large oil drum and a capsized boat. The southwest part of the park borders some fish and prawn farms. You can hear their loud motors pumping water from a mile away, spoiling the serenity of the peaceful swamp. They also have barbed wire put up in the water to stop boats from coming into their waters. A noxious sulfur smell drifts over from their tanks. Some of the most beautiful parts of the park are right in this area too, making it a tragic shame.
We got rained on at the park but we didn't mind a bit. Afterwards we took the MRT around (circling the island) to Lau Pa Sat. This is a nicely renovated downtown food court. Locals will be quick to point out that there are better stalls in the more obscure centers and I agree. However, all things considered, this place is surprisingly good. We had some tasty tandori and then an excellent chili stingray fish.
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