Singapore - Stereotypes falling fast

(by Neil)
Singapore surprises me – the open minded, me – the traveler, me – the simplifier, me the stereotypist…

The water is lovely tonight. The breeze and the boats and the MerLion’s spitting fountain conspire to ripple the bay. The clouds provide a canvas for the play of sunlight against the backdrop of gleaming glass and steel giants. They cast shadows in hues of grey and blue in the ripples which are punctuated by points of light from the camera flashes, the whirling construction caution lights, the spotlights on the bridge. At least 50 cranes sit idle, waiting for the morning shift of workers to reanimate them, but a pile driver drums across the bay sounding ominously of destruction rather than its opposite.

My neighbors at the outdoor Esplanade theater have a hundred stories in their dress and faces. The sitar player has just arrived and a small entourage of tech people walk up to the stage with him. A bright orange tank top illuminates its owner, and the short pink skirt nearby competes for brightest outfit. The lady and the man next to me are sure prize-winners in their respective long hair categories. She with hair well beyond her spine, and he with a flowing white belly-button length beard.

Night comes gracefully to the waterfront. The blues and yellows of the day are being pushed out by the steel greys and pinks of dusk. Even the pile-driver rhythm has fallen into beat with the concert sound-system. James Galloway is playing tonight in the theater behind us. Last night was Al Jareau, and Elvis Costello the night before. But we are here for the free Sitar Funk concert and the view and the company of diverse folks. A man resembling the Neanderthal on the TV commercials just walked past me with a superman shirt on – I wonder if he sees the irony.

Last night we wandered the Deepavali decorated Little India quarter that was awash with lights and garlands and veggie eats. I balked twice at the s$10/kilo price before buying 1 Alfonso Mango that I had heard about on NPR - described as the King of Mangoes and only recently approved for import to the USA (very yummy deep-orange flesh). Everywhere this cosmopolitan city has shown different faces – mosques, churches, temples, beaches, shopping, nature – we picked a wonderful red frangipani and drunk in its fragrance.

We are here now – Passport-less while we await visas for Syria. And it is good. None of the “DON’Ts” have impinged on us, and we are grateful for the cleanliness, the greenness, the variety, the selection, the multiculturalism, the arts, the quirky exhibits and lectures (“How to grow a Tomatillo”, “ Zap Your Stress & Transform Negative Emotions with Flower Remedies”), the friends, the English-Language friendliness that is Singapore.

Epilogue
The warm-up band was a youthful percussion group complete with gum-chewing, midriff-baring, vivacious girls and torn T-shirt, punked out boys. The Sitar Funk ensemble from Mumbai has exceeded expectations of virtuosity and acoustic pleasure. Yvette and Francis arrived both bearing munchies and sustenance which we chowed down between the two groups. A right pleasant way to pass the evening capped off by a stroll along the waterfront on a circuitous route to the MRT station and home to shower and be curled up with the laptop.