I’m in
Singapore for a few days to deal with some visa issues. I arrived here on a Wednesday night. It
had been a long day because I had to leave Bogor early as an insurance against
being stuck in Jakarta traffic and being late in getting to the Jakarta airport.
Luckily, the traffic was mild and I arrived at the airport 3 hours before
my flight. Another global airport with
no natural air and neon lights. In a bid
for natural light, I sat down in Starbucks. Time not lost in traffic jams was
lost in a flight delay and I arrived in Singapore late at night.
I had read
much about how clean, organized and well run the city is. I felt I was in a sci-fi novel and that feeling
intensified over the next few days. That
evening the taxi rode drove swiftly through eerily lit streets, free of traffic
and brought me to my hotel in Chinatown (www.hotel1929.com).
I had chosen it because of its proximity to an Iyengar yoga studio, and
because it was not part of large hotel group, or in a high rise. It was
billed as funky boutique hotel where each room was different. It was
funky and different alright. My room was small and half of it was the
bathroom, which was rather large for so small a room. The room had just enough place for a bed, a
plank of a desk, a vintage chair, and a wash basin. But what completely
frightened me was that the room was a box without any natural light and felt
like a prison cell decorated by some designer. Well, not quite a box as it was it was all
angles with three slits for windows high up above along one wall. I felt
my claustrophobia bubble inside me and called the front desk for another room,
one with windows. They said they were full up and would move me the next
day. I decided that I would just fall asleep given how tired I was.
I did but as soon as I woke up, I high tailed it out of there. The
front desk had already saved me another room. They moved me to it later
in the day. This one was funky too. It had a window (overlooking
the back of some buildings and many AC units) and a tiny little bathroom. So
much for my experiments to stay at funky hotels.
The next
day I went to the Indonesian Embassy and after a few minor adventures, I
managed to process my papers. Having missed the morning yoga classes I wandered
into Chinatown for lunch. I ate at a tiny food stall selling vegetarian food
that I found from a blog that my friend recommended (http://www.hungryangmo.com/2013/08/thousand-vegie-chinatown.html).
The stall was in the food plaza full of such stall in a shopping center
that has not yet been gentrified. The bowls and trays of food were worn
and faded with use, and marked with the number of the stall. Every few
minutes a cleaner would come clear the tables of the used dishes, and another
one would come by to return the correctly numbered trays to the stall owners.
The cleaners were both men and women, but I noticed that they were all
very old people. A clear division of labor here, and the feeling of being
in a sci-fi set intensified.
Later
that evening, I met up with my college friend Rama in Little India, which has
not yet been gentrified After we had a masala chai and caught up a
little, I accompanied Rama to a restaurant and center for migrant works (http://dibashram.com) which among other things
provides meals and a space for to injured migrant workers who are awaiting the
resolution of their cases filed with the Ministry of Manpower (MOM as it is
unironically known as. Yes, do your gender analysis or let your feminist
critique at work here). That evening I also got a glimpse of the
back story and back streets of this odd city state. I also got a glimpse
into the work of a great organization (http://twc2.org.sg/)
that advocates and accompanies the workers as they try to negotiate for their
rights.
After time
with TWC2, we eat one of mnay great Indian meals and went to the what has got
to be one of the largest shopping marts anywhere (http://www.budgethotels.sg/late-night-shopping-in-singapore-mustafa-center/).
Yes, I bought something - travel adaptors. One more evening engaged
in typical Singaporean activities - shopping and eating.
Over the
next two days, I tried (unsuccessfully) to find a “real” café (non-corporate
and not inside a mall), where I could sit and write a blog entry in peace.
No luck. One day, I ended up getting off one bus stop later than I
neeed to, and wandered the Marina Square mall in an effort to find the
Esplanades theatres. I spent walking a
couple of hours to traverse what turned out to be only a couple of blocks.
According to my search there is a nice coffee shop next to the Fine Arts
Library in the Esplanades theatre complex. No matter where I walked I
seemed to end up at the same point (Kenko’s Fish Spa and/or the Slimming
Sanctuary). This city is not made for walking. It is made to herd
people into and around malls. Trying to circumvent such herding is made
more difficult by the ubiquitous construction sites (more about those below). So
after two hours of wandering I did find the theatre and the library. There
was no sign of the coffee shop I had read about (which was described as cosy
and relaxing). What I found was a shop
with a singularly uninspiring menu and no views (the blog I read said it had a
view of the Marina Sands, which I did see from the Rooftop Terrace of the
building). I decided to sit down anyway and discovered that I had lost
the beautiful scarf I was carrying (to protect me from the intense AC inside
and sun outside). This time I retraced my steps through the labyrinth by
choice. No luck finding my scarf. I only hope that someone found it and
decided to keep it and enjoy it. The alternative is that is was cleared
away by someone in this clean and hyperefficient city, someone who was
instructed to toss away anything they found.
The next day after yoga class, I gave in to the mall culture and ate at a Japanese restaurant that boasted a vegetarian menu. The food was fine, nothing to write about. I decided to take another shot at finding a coffee shop outside the malls (which famously line Orchard St). I located a couple of options on google maps and I tried to walk there. In keeping with how disoriented I have been in this city, I started walking in the incorrect direction. I turned around after a few blocks but traversing the Saturday crowds took time. This time I overshot my turnoff and passed more malls and more outdoor "competitions" or events, and of course construction sites (which of course are neating hidden given that this is Singapore). When I finally found my destination, it turned out to be yet another mall. There was no sign of the coffee shop I read about, and the others there were either chains (Starbucks is everywhere) or had menus or music that induced an instant gag reflex. I gave up. There may be truly little to do in Singapore other than shop and eat. Though many websites talk about beautiful gardens and sanctuaries which I had yet to visit
Ended the
day back in Little India for a Carnatic music concert at the Singapore Indian
Fine Arts Society , and vegetarian versions of Singaporean dishes at Gokul. The highlight of the evening was talking gender
and race politics (in US academia and Singapore) with my friend Rama
On
Sunday, I finally made it to the Singapore Botanical Gardens (http://www.sbg.org.sg/index.asp) and
found a coffee shop in a non-mall space (though of course a stone’s throw from
a mall). This is a
truly strange country or city-state. My friend Rama, who lives and teachs
her calls it a corporation focused on competition and sale. That would account for the construction sites
everywhere (most of the workers are South Asian). Yet it focuses on the welfare of its citizens
(not necessarily the migrant workers who outnumber the citizens) through its
particular brand of state-capitalism. I suppose no unsurprisingly contradiction
there. It works in many ways. It's
the kind of place that Indonesia and India are trying to be. My first
reaction was that what works here is related to its many unfreedoms. That
too is true, but talking to Rama I understand that there is more. I'll miss the
food, and though the chaos of Bogor is hardly pleasant, this order makes me
very uncomfortable. Over and over again I get a sense that I am in a
sci-fi set, something out of a segment if Cloud Atlas. I guess being in
Bogor is like being in another novel.
More about that in another entry!
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