Singapore smells like foreign flowers and exotic spices. It’s just like everybody says it is–clean and safe. Which makes me wonder about what really goes on behind closed doors and within the Mediterranean-style condominium compounds with their manicured lawns and perfectly-sized swimming pools. Even though the climate is pretty much the same as the Philippines, Singapore is a walking city. Back in Manila, the thought of walking to a store a few streets away is laughable; I usually take a tricycle. Yesterday, however, I went past so many blocks, tall buildings, and train stations, with nothing to propell me forward but my own two feet.
There is much to do in this city, but only if you’re loaded. If you thought Manila had too many malls, clearly you’ve never walked down Orchard Street. At every block, the marble facade of a high-class mall gleams in the sun, its shiny glass windows showcasing the best that European designers have to offer. Singaporeans are very fashionable, and you can tell that the clothes that garb their bodies cost a pretty dollar. I felt so frumpy in my ukay-ukay clothes and regretted not bringing anything more stylish.
My first purchase in Singapore was a pack of cigarettes. I actually brought my own packs from Manila, but when Nic and I headed out to the city I realized I had stupidly forgotten them in my suitcase. So we went inside the nearest 7-11 to get me what the lady in the counter said were “Ultimate Dunhills.” They’re ultimate, all right. Ultimate in EXPENSIVE. Three hundred pesos for a pack of cigarettes! I wanted to smash my head through the glass windows for being such an idiot. But I suppose buying a pack of cigarettes in Singapore is an experience in itself, because each cigarette pack hosts a picture of some poor unfortunate soul’s rotting anatomy, the victim of too much tobacco and nicotime. If I lived in Singapore I would probably end up quitting smoking for good, not only because I’m too cheap to pay 300 pesos for cigarettes, but also because the psychology of those pictures are definitely working on me.
It wasn’t difficult for me to resist the temptation to shop for clothes because I’m an unbelievable cheapskate when it comes to what I wear. But when Nic took me to Kinokuniya, I was doomed. Kinokuniya is this huge bookstore that spans one whole floor of the mall. The ditzy female shopaholic in me took over and I immediately began pulling books from off the shelves, checking their prices, and moaning about my financial situation. After half an hour of browsing, I begged Nic to take me away because the temptation to whip out my credit card and buy everything I wanted was becoming increasingly difficult to resist. I ended up paying an indecent amount of money for several books with the pocket money I have. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to eat for the rest of my stay here. Lesson learned: NEVER go to a book store during a vacation.
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Excerpts from my little red notebook:
“I’m sitting in a crowded little coffee shop that is the only smoking area in NAIA. In a little while I’ll be off to Singapore. I’ve been looking forward to this trip all summer, not just because I love to travel, but because I’ve been dying to get away from Manila. I find that I am at my happiest in strange airports and smoking lounges. There is a strange comfort in the anonymity that airports bring. I love watching people and guessing their destinations, people I’ll only see once and never again.
“Airports are a paradox. They are the gateway to the rest of the world, and at the same time they are a prison because you cannot enter nor leave without the appropriate documents and strangers groping at areas only lovers go while unzipping every single pocket in your purse. I had to sacrifice my sister’s gingerflower perfume because liquid substances are apparently a threat to our lives. Even the very pen I am using now was carefully inspected by trained eyes, as if I were clever enough to somehow fashion a deadly weapon that looks just like an ordinary black Pilot signpen. Perhaps I should take that as a compliment.”
“I’m in the plane now, which is taxying (sp?) down the runway. I wonder if I can get away with writing during take-off. Oh, who am I kidding. I can’t read nor write in a moving vehicle without wanting to regurgitate my dinner.
“In his novel, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera asks–which is better, lightness or weight?
“The answer, for now, is definitely lightness.
“I watched buildings and cars transform into yellow and white speckles of light as the plane ascended into the atmosphere. For the first time in so many months, I felt a sense of peace. This is what Buddhists must feel like when they’ve attained nirvana, or something close to it. The faster the plane went, the lighter I felt, for the distance increased between me and everything and everyone that has weighed me down with disappointement, self-loathing, and regret, if only for a few days. The city lights twinkled and winked at me in agreement.
“Manila has never looked so beautiful.”
When I’m in a strange new place, I avoid hitting the tourist spots. Instead, I pick destinations randomly from a map, or walk around and see where my feet will take me. This is how my friend and I will be spending the day. This evening, I’ll be meeting up with some Singaporean friends who’ll show us what they do for fun around here. I’m really looking forward to it!
Looks like May is going to be another month of doing nothing since my stupid school won’t release our diplomas til June, therefore delaying my career plans another month.
I have decided to use that time to go on a trip all over the Philippines for maybe two or three weeks. As much as I love my friends, they tend to be quite flaky when it comes to making plans like these. So I need traveling companions, preferably someone from the Philippine blogosphere so that I’ll be more or less sure that you aren’t a psychokiller.
Comment on this entry and let’s make plans.
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