Singapore Fever – Travel Writing Diaries OOAsia
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July 6th 2:30AM
I begin the datation of the ooAsia diaries as we’re awoken by customs officers armed to their yellowed teeth in Changi, Singapore’s international Airport.
“We gotta go. The cops are here.” Coco’s voice comes from afar, barely bridging the ghostly frontier between reality and my soggy dreams.
I’ve seldom felt as groggy as I unclasp my eyelids and slowly rise from the airport’s carpet, tugged behind a row of seats, to see the two customs officials.
To say that I’m beginning these diaries is not quite true: we’ve been on the road for just about 5 months now, and have just crossed our 11th or 12th border. I’ve written about our previous travels – only I’m now resuming the daily practice of journaling and dating our travels, rather than bullet-pointing some notes about the places we visit.
We’re led through customs – we had sought to sleep in the arrival area because of post-midnight arrival, unwilling to hitch a cab at this late time of night and spend a minimum $45 on two dorm beds. Yet our night had begun chalorously, greeted by free foot-massage chairs and drinking tap water – ah, the comforting luxuries of Singapore!
Thus we finish our night in the departure area, much more uncomfortably. At noon we take the MRT and arrive safe and sound at our hostel on the newly built Circle line, where we bunk up for one of the first times of the trip (had somehow managed to avoid this thanks to the cheap price of private doubles thus far).
Later that day we walk through the charming neighborhood of Little India and the Marina, an absolute prowess of architectural teamwork and visionary urban planning. I’m wondrously discovering the eclectic array of architectures and colors that adorn the city.
Our first encounters with Singaporeans are lukewarm, to put it mildly. We chalk it up to a bad day as our first interactions are met with the locals’ snazz, one might say haughtiness, regarding tourists and their ludicrously idiotic questions about, for example, how to get somewhere, or the price of a metro card. We have pleasant encounters with the Singaporean slash Indian community, whose warm smile gives us some hope yet.
July 7th
Fall sick. Timelapse of skyline. Get chills, high fever.
Lo, what have I done? On our last day in Phnom Penh, after wandering the streets before our flight, sat at a cafe and made the deliberate, thoughtless yet reasoned decision to take a sip from the glass of tap water which is customarily served with clients’ coffee. Though a seemingly small sip, could a single drop turn deadly to my yet unattuned digestive system?
I had opted for an experimental approach, as we were now five months into the trip, with hopes that I had perhaps developed necessary resistance. This turned out to be a predictably costly mistake.
July 8th-9th
Survive the night in absolute delirium. Crossroads between Phnom Penh and Kuala Lumpur. Three-dimensional shapes rolling about for optimal heat. Directions given are always inversed.
Digestive. In bed. More delirium, awoken in sweat.
Another day and night with more of the same. Toilet. Sweat. Fever.
Vietnamese Canadian French Chinese Indonesian Filipino Indian doormates. Dormmates.
The Chinese conversations:
Are you Christian?
“Of course.”
“Buddhism? What is Buddhism?”
Arranged marriage.
“China, all about money. We are rich, but we don’t have enough money not to care about it.”
“In China, if you can’t pay, get away.”
They ask each other about job, property, salary.
“Those things are usually secret in our culture.”
“Her father will say: ‘My daughter also is a secret. Go away.“
“What will you do if you don’t get along with her?”
“Oh my God. Kill her.” Answer came a wee bit too fast.
“You can do anything in China if you have some money and connections with government. Even kill people.”
Well, time to get out of here.
Go out to Holland village. Get a free burger, the first one in a long time.
July 10th
Not sure about the timeline. Had to check in with a doctor, got medicine. Don’t mess with the water.
Less respectful new batch of roommates and off to a bad start. Sickness lingering.
Rushed day as we decide to leave.
Important pictures of the harbor.
Rush to bus. Luxurious super VIP bus, most seats empty. Circus border as people run about in an effort not to miss their bus.
Leave Singapore stomach tied into a knot still, the last days a broiled haze, and the bus sputters into the night and the border to Malaysia.
This destination and travel story is part of OOAsia, a Year-long Journey and Travels through Asia. This the second installment in the OOA Journeys:
- OOAmerica – Travels through North America and USA Road-Trip
- OOAsia – Travels through Asia
- OOAmericaS – Travels through Central and South America
- EurOOA – Travels through Europe
- OOAfrica – Travels through Africa
- OOACeania – Travels through Oceania
- OOArabia – Travels through North Africa and the Middle East
Looking for Travel Tips, travel reviews, itineraries and practical travel information? Check out the OOAworld Travel section by Rolling Coconut and browse stories by country.
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