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Screw travel guides and all those book that attempt to condense an entire country’s culture into a couple of chapters. The best way to really learn about a country is to talk to the locals.

The early afternoon was spent hanging out with Baldwin, an internet friend who owns his own tattoo and piercing parlor in Fortune Center, Middle Road. If any of you are ever in Singapore and want a tattoo or a piercing, I recommend that you go to his place. The mall itself might look a little dodgy, but his shop is very clean and professional-looking–a far cry from most of the tattoo places back in the Philippines.

After hanging out in Fortune Center, Nic and I headed over to Chinatown to buy souvenirs for friends back home. I spent approximately a hundred Singapore dollars on t-shirts, smoking paraphernalia for friends who smoke (since cigarettes are too fucking expensive), and various other useful things with the word “Singapore” on them. Yes, that’s how much I love my friends and family. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I think spending that much on souvenirs was worth it. I like bringing back a little piece of my trip to people I love back in the Philippines. Besides, I spent a ridiculous amount of money on myself over the past week, so I suppose it’s only fair.

During the middle of our shopping trip, the grey skies finally gave way to heavy rain, causing Nic and I to take shelter in front of a nearby electronics shop. As we kicked ourselves in the asses for not thinking of bringing an umbrella with us, the shop owners invited us take a seat outside their shop and engaged us in conversation. Soon we were sipping coffee with them and I was giving my usual list of fucked-up social and political things back in the Philippines. Interestingly enough, I felt a strange sense of nationalism as I rambled on about corrupt politicians, poverty, and how our culture seems to perpetuate the entire system of social inequality. Not in the sense that I’m proud of those things, but I somehow got the notion that maybe there is something I can do to help change things. I don’t know.

The Night Safari and drinks at the Raffles Hotel with my relatives here filled up the rest of my evening. My wallet is home to two Singapore dollars and some pesos. I’m meeting a friend for lunch in an hour and I have no idea how I’ll be able to afford anything. Maybe I’ll just make some lame excuse about being on a diet.

It’s difficult for me to really write about Malaysia since I didn’t get to experience the country the way I have with Singapore. The whole weekend was pretty much spent shuffling around from one tourist trap to another. Don’t get me wrong though–I really enjoyed myself during the past few days. It’s been a long time since I’ve had mindless fun. But if it were up to me, I would rather walk around unfamiliar streets than visit all the tourist spots recommended by airport brochures. It’s a good thing Nic’s dad paid for everything, otherwise I really would be penniless. Being a tourist is damn expensive.

We spent Saturday at Genting, which is basically a huge theme park high up in the mountains and about an hour away from Kuala Lumpur by bus. All afternoon, Nic and I rode thrill rides and roller coasters until I felt like my intestines inconveniently relocated themselves to a place somewhere near my head. Accomodations were at the Theme Park Hotel, which I think is the most bizarre place I’ve ever stayed in. It was a little too…cheerful and carnival-like for my tastes. For instance, the ashtrays were these creepy-looking smiling teddy bears. The whole place reminded me of Silent Hill 3, particularly of the area where you have to wander around a carnival. I kept expecting the world to go dark and for the building to fill up with ghost children holding knives and bloodied stuffed animals. I don’t know, maybe I just have a strange sense of what’s creepy and what’s not.

we were at Kuala Lumpur, which reminded me a whole lot of Makati except there were more Indians and Muslims about. We didn’t get to see the city much but instead spent all afternoon inside the Petronas Towers and Times Square, where Nic and I again rode roller coasters and thrill rides til standing still on the ground felt like a sweet sweet blessing to us. The bus ride to Singapore was awesome, mainly because the seats were practically beds and we had our own TVs and could choose which movies to watch. It’s been ages since I’ve seen any Disney movies so I watched that til I dropped dead from exhaustion.

Since pictures say a lot more than words can when it comes to touristy destinations, I shall direct you to the album of the Malaysia trip. I also added some more pictures from Nic’s camera during Day 2 of Singapore (more pictures of the park + House of Condoms).

Our original plan was to head to Sentosa Island, but when Nic and I realized that we were a little low on cash, we decided to improvise.

Get on a bus. Any bus. Ride the bus until you see something interesting, or until whenever you feel like getting off.

It’s rare in the Philippines to see a nice, grassy park without 8 million children and beggars littered all over the grass. So we jumped off the bus the moment we saw a lovely green patch of earth with a little lake in the middle. A dragonboat race was going on–some high school sports event, we guessed–which we watched for a while. When we happened upon the playground though, we forgot the fact that we’re both 21 and started going crazy on the swings, seesaw, and those bar things where younger people with more agile bodies can perform gymnastic tricks.

As we were swinging away, I suddenly felt this impulse to go ride a bike. Riding a bike is the closest sensation I will ever get to flying, but ever since a not-so-fatal accident in which I got hit by a car, I decided that it’s too fucking dangerous to do that in Manila. In Singapore, however, people actually obey the traffic rules. I asked Nic if he knew a place where we could rent a bike and ride around a park and he said he did, somewhere in the far eastern side of Singapore. So we got on the first bus we saw and rode it for what seemed like an eternity. During the ride though, we passed by streets that are probably not included in the glossy tourist magazines handed to us in the airport. One of them was the red light district, which we wanted to check out. But since it was the middle of the day, nobody was really on the street so we decided to pass by later in the evening.

We gave up on the bus and took a long train ride to Choa Chu Kang road, where Phoenix Park is located. When we got off the station, however, the weather decided to ruin things for us. The cloudy skies finally gave way to some rain and since we didn’t have the sense to bring umbrellas with us, we took shelter underneath an overpass til the rain died down. By that time, we didn’t really feel like riding bikes anymore. So we took the first bus that we saw, which eventually brought brought us to Orchard Street half an hour later. Since the whole point of today’s adventure was to avoid the malls, we decided to head back to Nic’s dad’s condo for a swim.

The whole journey took about four or five hours and despite the rain, we had a blast. Total spent: approximately 5 Sing dollars.

Clubbing means spending money. The poor cannot afford to go clubbing.

I was supposed to head over to a club called Momo with Cessy tonight but decided to cancel when I looked at the sorry state of my finances and my wardrobe. Joel, a friend of theirs whom I met last night, explained to me that the bouncers are very subjective about letting people in. Even if you’re an underaged female, he’ll most likely allow you to enter if you’re dressed appropriately. And by appropriately I mean that your breasts should be spilling out of your top. I’m 21 and all I brought with me to Singapore are boring, practical travelling clothes–the same ones I wore for school. Meaning that they don’t show off my breasts or any interesting parts. Hell, I don’t even have clothes appropriate for clubbing because I never go clubbing, and I believe that women who dress skankily are just asking to be raped. So I told this to Joel and he said that with the clothes I have with me, chances are the bouncers won’t let me in even if I wave my ID at them. Oh wells.

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