So where've you been? 4 Singapore
I love Singapore. I don't give a flying fuck if you, you or you think it's "sterile", think it's "just another city".
1 Meeting up with wifflewiffle, who is as brightly animatedly clever as his blog suggests, to watch the mass breaking of ramadan fasts, and to shop for net curtains. He was sharp, witty, goodlooking, entertaining, and a bit of a wryly sarcastic insight into the culture I'd been bobbing about on the edge of.
And memorable for the hilarious closing line "I've never spoken to a white person that length of time before."
2 Rowing with the British Dragonboat Racing team in Singapore. I just wanted to stretch my muscles a bit, but they were gearing up for November's races, and didn't have time to cope with passengers; they expected me to work.
"Hi, I thought I'd come and see what the dragonboats are about?"
"Get in the boat. We can talk later. Get in the boat."
Without space to protest, mewl or be feeble, it was cool to suddenly stop being both observer and outsider, and have a part to play in a team effort. And ... we beat the bloody Singaporean team. Okay it was a friendly. But ... those boys are fit.
Worth the hangover later.
3 Learning to make a laksa at the cookery academy. Chef Choon moved way too fast for me to capture any photograph, so I bumbled through it, trying to remember the different ways to use three bloody different types of ginger. I was particularly careful with the chillis. I've eaten hawker market laksa - I know your ears should steam, your face should purple, your specs should fall off and the sweat pool around you. I counted out TWELVE chillies - the small, red ones, mark you, the ones that hurt.
"No no no," chef barks, ripping the bag of chillis from my hands and throwing another twelve in.
Twenty four chillis. And that was the mildest tasting laska I ever had.
What, like Rome's just another city? Like Buenos Aires is just another city? I don't care if it's Asia Lite. What, am I on a long hard search to see poverty and suffering or something? Is it not really travelling unless I'm watching squalor? I worry about people. Really. What's so cool about watching human misery?Three really brilliant moments in Singapore (and I'm going back so I know there'll be more):
1 Meeting up with wifflewiffle, who is as brightly animatedly clever as his blog suggests, to watch the mass breaking of ramadan fasts, and to shop for net curtains. He was sharp, witty, goodlooking, entertaining, and a bit of a wryly sarcastic insight into the culture I'd been bobbing about on the edge of.
And memorable for the hilarious closing line "I've never spoken to a white person that length of time before."
2 Rowing with the British Dragonboat Racing team in Singapore. I just wanted to stretch my muscles a bit, but they were gearing up for November's races, and didn't have time to cope with passengers; they expected me to work.
"Hi, I thought I'd come and see what the dragonboats are about?"
"Get in the boat. We can talk later. Get in the boat."
Without space to protest, mewl or be feeble, it was cool to suddenly stop being both observer and outsider, and have a part to play in a team effort. And ... we beat the bloody Singaporean team. Okay it was a friendly. But ... those boys are fit.
Worth the hangover later.
3 Learning to make a laksa at the cookery academy. Chef Choon moved way too fast for me to capture any photograph, so I bumbled through it, trying to remember the different ways to use three bloody different types of ginger. I was particularly careful with the chillis. I've eaten hawker market laksa - I know your ears should steam, your face should purple, your specs should fall off and the sweat pool around you. I counted out TWELVE chillies - the small, red ones, mark you, the ones that hurt.
"No no no," chef barks, ripping the bag of chillis from my hands and throwing another twelve in.
Twenty four chillis. And that was the mildest tasting laska I ever had.
Ever read Asterix stories? You know the movement they'd be making when you read 'these people are crazy / toc toc toc'? :)
posted by Lectrice at domingo, octubre 30, 2005
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