After the going away party, there were tears in Chinatown...
"Rhy?? RHYYYYY??? Bayriss, no!"a wave of depression across Little India....
"Why like dees, my friend? Why like dees? Go ahead then, just walk away. We always knew you would."
I just hope they are able to move on, because I don't think I'm coming back to the place Thighs calls "Asia For Dummies" anytime soon. I'm ready to see the real deal on this continent, and by that I mean a return trip to somewhere in Asia that is a little crazier than what I call the "Gestapo-run Switzerland of the Far East."
Plus, I really want to travel in Asia my style, without a tie and a without a schedule.
Although I have to admit something about wearing these clothes.
I don't know whatcha heard about me, but a bitch can't get a dollar outta me. No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see. That I'm a motherf***ing P-I-M-P!If you didn't understand that last joke, you are too old.
And if you don't understand how my Uncle Dan could make fun of my socks today, which I am also wearing in the picture above, you are not alone. It makes no sense to me, either.
"They're very .... colorful," Christine, a Chinese Singaporean business colleague of Dan's said today over a lunch of shark fin soup and fish cheek.
If by "colorful" she means "freaking amazing," I concur.
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Let's get back to the idea that I can't wrap my mind around here in Singapore: That English is the official language of a place that is full of Chinese people.
Do we really need another reminder that Singapore is simply a British creation, founded by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles in 1819 in an attempt by the British East India Company to break the Dutch domination of southeast Asia? (Raffles was actually quoted as saying, "Our objective is not territory, but trade..." proving that Singapore has always been about the money, and is best served for accommodating those who like to say they've been to crazy countries, but don't actually like to be in crazy countries). The glaring lack of a native culture -- historically, this place falls within the Malay domain, not the Indian-Chinese-Malay-Ex-pat salad bowl set-up that resulted from the imported labor policies of the past 200 years -- leaves much to be desired within the spirit of a traveler.
When does a tourist officially cross over the line into becoming a traveler?
When you see what others can only imagine.
But you don't see with your eyes. You see with your spirit. And that is something you can't explain to someone who has been blind his whole life.
In Singapore, I feel like I'm wearing permanent sunglasses, because I can't see what I really want to see. I don't know if it's due to a lack of time or a lack of buzz in the air, but for the past three or four days, I have felt like a big time tourist. But, there is a reason for that, I guess: I'm on a business trip. In case I ever try to forget that fact -- in the few hours I have to cruise town after the day's work is done -- the perfectly-tied knot in my baby blue tie will be there to remind me.
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If the Singapore police are apparently sooooooo effective, then someone answer me this: WHERE ARE ALL THE POLICE?
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"Yo man, be straight with me." I put my hand on the Indian security guard's shoulder, as he stood next to the information desk on the ground floor of an uber-modern, air-conditioned, multi-storied mall in downtown Singapore. "Do you really have to pay to get on the bus here?"
He looked at me like I had just asked if the earth was really round.
"Of course, of course!"
"But I've ridden it a few times now, and I really don't think they are checking people who get on in the back."
"Yes, but the back is just for exiting." JUST for exiting. Duh.
"I know, that's the whole point," I blurted out, the statement being so far outside the box that I thought the guy's head may implode. "You can sneak on."
Was I taking crazy pills or something? He seemed really worried about my mental state.
"No, no, no, no," he warned. "Singapore police will give you big fine."
"How much?"
He tried to remember. Eyes pointing up, mind fast at work.
"I can't remember, but if you just throw your cigarette on the ground, it is $500 fine I think." Or, about $250 ... roughly. The Indian guard was really getting riled up now, just like my Malaysian taxi driver had been a few nights before, when he had explained to me why he prefers to live in Malaysia on the weekends, only coming into work in Singapore for wages of up to double what he would be making in Malaysia: "You can do what you want in Malaysia, live your life. Here, it's no good. They tell you this, that, no noise in flat, no this there. It no good," he said before laughing.
"What about spitting?" I asked the guard.
His eyes widened. We had temporarily returned to pagan times, only for someone to have insulted the gods. Spitting?!?!
"Oh you mustn't do that," he said, frantically. "That's another big fine." Once again, a couple hundred dollars.
I was really getting interested in our conversation at this point, because I love Indian accents when they get all hot and bothered about whatever it is.
"So then where the hell are all these cops?? I still haven't seen one."
The corners of his mouth turned up -- a mischievous smirk.
"Oh," he said, still smirking, "they are around."
"What, hiding in the bushes or something?"
"Something like that," he said, and I was on my way.
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I was so close to home -- maybe a minute, tops -- but the idea came over me, and I had to do it.
I had to take a piss on the side of the road, in Singapore, to see if a platoon full of cops wearing garden-print camouflage were really waiting to jump out of the trees and tackle me. Who knows? Maybe jail time would have been mandatory. You can never predict; this is southeast Asia, after all.
"This is stupid," the angel said.
"This is brilliant," I heard from the devil.
Tie goes to the runner; brilliant it was. And I whipped out my egg roll to stick it to the man.
The whole time, I just scanned the road for trouble, and crossed my fingers.
"Were you nervous?" Kath asked me later when I told her of my bravery.
Now what kind of question is that??
Of course I was nervous.
A two-week trip across four cities in Asia is like giving a P.O.W. a small box of McDonald's french fries and then asking, "Full?"
Of course I'm not full, you idiot. I'm probably even hungrier now!
Better to have something than nothing, though, huh?
1 comment:
Have you LOST your mind? What the hell are you doing? Your EGG ROLL?
In Singapore???? Uncle Dan oughta kick your ass.
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