Singapore is an interesting place. It is, without a doubt, the cleanest city I’ve ever visited. And possibly the most polite. There is a method to everything. Need some stamps at the post office? Take a number and wait patiently until it is called. DO NOT go to the counter—even if there’s no one else there—until you have been acknowledged. Want to catch a movie? Pick your seats in advance. DO NOT sit in any seat other than the one indicated on your ticket. Going to a club? Keep you hands to yourself. DO NOT pinch someone else’s bum or you will be lashed (my friend told me about this one—apparently a British backpacker is currently awaiting his punishment).
It’s kind of freakish the way everyone toes the line here, especially coming from the absolute chaos that prevails everywhere else in Southeast Asia. It’s calming. I like it. But after a while it starts to become too calming. Like they’re lulling you into this happy acceptance of the fact that the government dictates an awful lot of what goes on in your life. So maybe I shouldn’t like it. But I can’t help myself.
In my five days here, I did start to notice all the little ways in which the people try to rebel. Or at least assert their individuality. There are a lot of tattoos. And vividly-colored hair. Teenagers attempt to escape the pressures of society by going to the movies and then talking incessantly. College students light up cigarettes even though they’re incredibly expensive and there are very few places they’re legally able to smoke.
Anyway, in addition to being run like a well-oiled machine, the following are some of Singapore’s highlights:
Food courts. They’re the cheap alternative to the vastly overpriced food on offer in real restaurants. And they’re way better. Down and dirty, they’re a fast-paced, somewhat confusing mishmash of cuisine from all over Asia. Some of it’s delicious. Some of it’s repulsive. But the experience is always interesting. I was told to try a Mango Kachang—a very Singaporian dessert consisting of red beans and jelly (Americans, that’s Jell-o to you) covered in shaved ice with different flavorings poured on top like a snow cone. And then on top of that is a mango puree. Ashley said it looked like a rainbow puked in a bowl. It kind of tasted that way, too.
Museums. They’re so well done here. You can tell that a lot of time and money was put into making them some of the best in the world. Immaculately presented, thoughtfully laid out, and technologically advanced, each one offers a very distinct, yet informative, experience to its visitors.
Architecture. They’ve got some weird things going on. There are strangely-shaped buildings next to massive skyscrapers next to beautifully restored old colonials. My four-year-old niece, Eva, professes to hate trees and love architecture. I think she’d be right at home here.
Art. Ashley and I went to two art museums in Singapore, and they couldn’t have been more different. The first was pretty much what you’d expect from a modern art gallery. Lots of white space. Some really amazing work. Some not my cup of chai. But all-in-all, a very lovely experience. The second was just pure craziness. The entire gallery was devoted to a single performance/mixed-media artist. In one room, we watched a video of one of her performance pieces.
It started with her dipping magazine ads featuring supermodels into a bucket of blood and then pinning them up on a white wall. All the while there was a rhythmic pounding in the background, which we later found out was a man chopping a huge piece of meat with a cleaver. She left the room for a minute and came back in sporting some sort of tampon chain trailing from under her dress like a really long tail. When she took off all of her clothes (except her socks and Doc Martens), we found out that the tampon tail was attached to her via an inserted tampon. I was dying laughing through the whole thing. She was so serious. It was so ridiculously artsy. The people in the audience on the video seemed almost traumatized. They didn’t know where to look or what to do. Anyway, more weird stuff happened over the duration of the 30-minute performance, but I think you get the gist.
After that one was over, we watched another one in which the same woman was videoed walking around the city backwards with a high-heeled shoe in her mouth while looking in a mirror. According to the write-up, it was meant to symbolize how the feminist movement is going backwards as women become more and more enslaved to fashion and the desire to be visually pleasing to men. Or something like that. Huh. I kind of dig the sentiment, but I never would have gotten that from seeing a crazy Asian lady with a shoe in her mouth.
Next up was this installation piece consisting of slashed minivan seat with century eggs stuffed into the ripped leather. I have no idea what that one was supposed to symbolize, but the security guard told me all about century eggs, which was absolutely fascinating. A century egg is an egg that has been soaked in horse pee—yes, horse pee—before being buried in the ground for 100 days, after which time it is dug up and eaten. Apparently, it has a sort of jelly-like consistency and turns an opaque black-ish color. I’m told it’s delicious. I have no desire to find out for myself.
And that’s Singapore in a nutshell. Or an eggshell. Soaked in horse pee.
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