SPRING BREAK IN      SINGAPORE

Monday, 3/5/01                From New Haven to New Jersey

        Dave came over during his lunch break and did my dishes as I was rushing to finish packing and get out before the storm.  I dropped him off back at school.  It was starting, mostly wet little pellets.  He kissed me goodbye several times, and we parted.

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                Ever notice…on I-95 the only gas station is Mobil.  At every other exit, across the street from each other, it’s Mobil, Mobil, Mobil.  You fill up at the pump and get your receipt and the screen reads “Thank you for choosing Mobil.”  Like they flatter themselves into thinking I had some free reign in the matter.

Tuesday, 3/6                JFK Airport

                After calling several times to find the flight was still on time, despite Dad’s insistence that all flights MUST be cancelled in the presence of any precipitation,  Mom drove to JFK while Dad navigated (and directed her every little driving move and generally made her nervous and irritated) and I tried to watch the route but as usual, konked out.  Pulled up and there were two United terminals, hmm.  I was ready to take my luggage in and gamble on one that looked right but Dad worried “No no, let’s ask them first.”  He ducked under the ropes to ask.  This one was right, and we went back for my bags but Mom was gone!  Waited ‘til she circled back around and they bickered.  
               “Why did you leave?” 
                “He made me go!” 
                “Which guy, the oh-lang?”  (Taiwanese for black person.)
                “Yes, hiddeh oh-lang”.  It’s never just “that guy standing over there.”  There’s always gotta be a race attached to the description.

                Meanwhile I’d grabbed all my bags and was ready, hoping they weren’t planning to park and sit with me at the gate ‘til I boarded.  I could just see that, Mom stuffing banana bread into my pockets as I struggled to break free, Dad asking the attendants each minute “You sure it’s not delayed?  SURE?  It’s snowing you know.”  But Mom just came in to use the bathroom and I kissed her bye while on the check-in line.  Dad called my cell twice, once when I was in the bathroom stall and another when I was sitting at the gate, to tell me Mom wanted to give me money (used up a good battery bar arguing I didn’t need any) and to tell me he was on Lucy’s cell.  Now I’m on my last battery bar.

                JFK is nothing to write home about, at least the United/British Air part.  The one Duty Free store was Eh, and the gate had NOTHING, no TVs not even one!  You’d think they’d try harder for those foreigners coming in going “whoo New York City”, right? 

So I sat in the middle of the biggest bunch of FOBs—I mean, internationals—that I have in a long time (probably since the Korean parties at Brown).  I put on my Discman to drown the chatter but they kept staring at me—maybe because they couldn’t believe they were looking at the only Asian left who doesn’t own a MP3 player.

On the plane - Critique of United 

                So far United is OK.  Took off only ~45 minutes late, no snow delay, and they handed out socks.  It was pretty random.  They went around with the menus to say they’d be serving meals and “Socks?” or, “Here you go, some socks.”  Blue and wrapped in plastic.  The girl next to me gave me an amused smile that I returned.  Good to see she has some blood flowing in her veins.  When I first got here and said “Hi,” smiling at her, she got up stony-faced to let me in.  I thought, Small Asian girl who’s either really shy or doesn’t know English.  I saw her book was titled “Finding peace in God” or something similar.   She just moved to the empty three seats in front of me so I’ve got the whole row too.  It’s a pretty spotty crowd.  For the 10^th time, slap self for not bidding lower on Priceline.

                Also, instead of peanuts or those really dry Rolds Gold (Fat Free!) pretzels, they had trail mix—two bags each.  I liked it.  However, minus points for the jazz documentary they’re showing on TV, and for not turning on the Top Pop station—I’m ready to hear Jennifer Lopez’s “Love Don’t Cost a Thing” over and over again up here, so I can feel just like I’m back home.

                8 PM EST

                 I just watched Pay It Forward which was definitely just a time killer.  I’d heard it wasn’t good and after 15 minutes I almost gave up, but for lack of other available activities, or just out of vain hope it would get better, I kept plugging.  It had its moments I guess but I am once again amazed at how a movie with such a stellar cast and original plot idea can still stinkbomb.  The direction was lacking in creativity and the dialogue’s what really killed it.  You just feel like patting the actors on the back for being such good sports and being able to put feeling behind the lamest lines:  “Ask me what happened next, ask me ‘Did he hurt you, Eugene?’”  She:  “Did he hurt you?”  And it doesn’t help that they’re trying to have a serious emotional moment, and his name is Eugene.  

Wednesday 3/7        1:50 EST  Narita Airport, Tokyo Japan

                So Japan.  I’ve decided, just by a superficial review of the airport, that this country has way too much money.  Everything about it is like space-age perfect.  The toilets, for instance.  First of all, the stalls are almost completely enclosed—the walls reach to the bottom and the doors shut tightly—no spaces.  You can almost do private pooping.  The paper rolls perfectly (unlike at Yale, where Ivy League researchers have not yet mastered the design of a rolling toilet paper dispenser, so you have to sit there and pick at the massive unyielding roll and tear off bits at a time.  Either that or they can’t afford to buy rolling dispensers due to the paltry tuition sums we pay them.)  and the toilet is of course power flush.  The sinks are auto, with a lever marked with degrees so you can control the temperature, and a spout you push for not liquid soap, but some frothy creamy stuff.  It’s all spotless and streamlined.  The people-mover has little footprints on it facing the direction you’re going.  The gift shops are full of cutesy stuff like little Japanese characters on key-chains.  Too bad I don’t know the money conversions.

                I looked around for contact lens solution but there were no ordinary drugstores, just candy and mag stands and one electronics shop that really made my Discman look like a huge museum relic.  After asking an attendant who racked his brain and hawed for ½ an hour before finally admitting they don’t sell that here, I gave up.  Cameras that shoot laser beams and remotely open your beer bottle, yes.  Drugstore with contact lens solution, toothpaste and maxi pads, no.  Speaking of beer, there’s a little makeshift stand at my gate selling candy (Pocky alongside M&M’s) and beer.  “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout no paper cup, I mean a glass o’ beer.”

                The other weird thing is that when I was in my bathroom stall, the girl next to me started to smoke.  Now only about 5 years ago I could have smelled smoke in a US bathroom too, but now it’s like I’m so used to not smelling smoke everywhere that I’m sensitized to it.

                Girls here = all skinny, I am one of the biggest – no surprise.

                There’s also a “shower room”, I peered in and I guess there are shower stalls but all I saw were some guys at kiosks checking email.  And a “playroom” for kids with really hi-tech looking arcade games, I mean the graphics were amazing and none of them are for standing.  All are in the shape of futuristic rockets and stuff that the kids sit on.

                Some chubby guy eyeing me.  Either he thinks I’m a spy (cool!) because I keep looking around and writing, or he’s thinking Poor girl—get a MP3 player already!

                 Prediction on the functionality of bombs made in:
                -The US:  Perfectly functional and aesthetically boring.
                -Japan:  Perfectly functional, projects a hologram of an anime cartoon video and plays a little tune before
                 exploding.  Is also the size of my big toe.  

        The flight arrived slightly early last night, around 11:30 PM.  Saw Daphne frantically waving at me as I was getting my luggage.  She was in a tank and skirt and I still in jeans, sneakers and a cardigan, but when we stepped outside it wasn't too bad, still mild.  She warned me that was only at night.  Cabbed to her house--it's pretty and homey, a pug (Skirt), three bunnies, fishtank, and several birds that chirped me awake this morning.  The smell of incense, humidity and Chinese food reminded me of Taiwan.
        Daphne and her dad left me lots of maps and brochures.  Emailed, got a short message from Dave who promised to write more today but hasn't.  In the morning her mom made some noodles for me and hot Nestle Quik ("Milo") and I ate as Skirt barked at my feet.  Then studied the maps.  Daphne had drawn me a little map of asdew89nnx I should get o tthran motuing

Friday 3/9                    The Shopping Begins

                Fell asleep up there as you can see.  In fact, Daphne was in the middle of telling me about riots in Indonesia, where children were carrying around decapitated heads and I really was shocked, but said "Really???" with my eyes closed.  She stopped and stared at me and we both cracked up--very embarrassing.  She said she just couldn't talk to me anymore, because looking at me with my eyes drooping was making hers want to droop too.
                
                So yesterday my first adventure was of course to Orchard Road.  I got out of the MRT and looked around, feeling like Alicia Silverstone in Clueless when she looks at that huge mall in Beverly Hills and heavenly choruses play in the background.  But this was mall after mall after mall.  First went to a bank that was right outside the MRT .  That cross section was busy and full of activity, with two large TV screens projecting actual movie trailers and interesting stuff (not stock tickers and ball game shots), it looked like their version of Times Square otherwise.  I suspected the bank might not give me the best exchange rates but looking down the street I wasn’t sure when I’d find a money changer and I felt naked without cash (though it was kind of exciting to be dropped off in the middle of the city without cash, like an orphan who just ran away from home or something).  The bank gave me 1.722 Sing/US which I thought sounded pretty good (and later I asked a money changer who said 1.724 so it was close).  First hit Tangs, after trying and failing to figure out how to cross the street (apparently you can't cross the street ahead of you, if you're on the right side of the perpendicular street--something to do w/their driving on the left side of the road) and getting honked at.  Headed for Paragon, stopping at a camera and optical shop on the way in Lucky Plaza, did a quick tour of Paragon but knew it was too expensive (stopped in Gucci, Prada, and boy I’m glad I brought my Prada bag, in fact it’s the only bag I brought--my dress and shoes were of pretty low caliber compared to most other girls’ who were shopping, but my bag seems to redeem me into getting good service).   Across the way was Ngee Ann City and within that, Takashimaya department store (I was going to the places that my trusty brochure recommended—though I’m not sure if it does only for retailers who paid for a plug in the brochure) which I liked—after a slow morning of being unimpressed I finally bought a skirt and capris w/a little tie (lots of things here have a little tie around the waist or ribs—very cute, I wonder why they don’t have that at home—it’ll probably be a fad next year.  Oh and speaking of America being late on everything, everyone here’s got that tiny Nokia Dave and Gary have that I was totally jealous of—Daphne, our cab driver from the airport, little 10-yr-olds…you know you’re technologically behind when your cab driver has a better phone than you)  for about US$36 total.

                After that it was all downhill—all I need is one purchase to send me into a snowballing frenzy. Read on and you shall see.

                I looked for some eats at the bottom of Takashimaya, where there were little food stalls scattered about and supermarkets connected to the area.  I kind of wandered aimlessly when a sign for “Popiang, a Local Delicacy—rated Singapore top 5 best eating” (and signs like these explain why my grammar deteriorated drastically during the week) caught my eye and the woman growled “I make for you” without asking.  I watched as she rolled some yellow glop that looked like kraut, chili sauce, little shrimps, and mushroom scraps into a dough shell and cut it into maki-like pieces, all for S$1.80, wow!  Found out the yellow glop was almost pure garlic, it was good but my breath reeked.  Bought a Yeo iced green tea drink in the supermarket which was undeniably the most horrible bottled drink I’ve had since grass jelly.  Oh well, I was filled up for quite cheap, and Popiang was my cultural discovery of the day.  Studying the map I decided just to hit Wisma Atria, the mall on the way back right next to MRT, and go home before my jet lag kicked in and I crashed in the middle of shopping.

                By now I was half ass looking around and stopped in Karen Millen which I remembered Daphne introduced me to in London.  Everything there was hung perfectly on the racks, perfect spacing between each item, all in order by styles and colors and sizes and the store was empty and the sales people watched me (I hate that) and I aimlessly looked through knowing I couldn’t afford the stuff and would just leave, but the sales rack caught my eye –up to 50% off.

                Maybe it happens at the end of the day, when I’m tired, or whatever, but this is where I went slightly insane.

                First of all, Karen Millen’s stuff is beautiful, everything in the store.  I love it.  Everything is exquisite, that’s the best word to describe it.  And when prices are slashed 50% off plus you know it’s even lower in US dollars, well I started pulling stuff of the sale rack one at a time and the salesgirl kept taking each item, and took my bags aside, to put in the dressing room, and it was almost embarrassing I think I had like 7 items, because there were different colors to try too.  I finally decided on this black cap sleeve top with lace trim, chiffon, beads and sequins (they had 1 in lavender 1 in black and yes I did have the fleeting desire to get both but no I didn’t completely lose my senses)—originally S$270 now S$135, which means it was still more than I’d ever spend on a top, but this was really special, a treat, and like I said—tired, end of day, and insane.  
                Then there was this jacket.  Black fitted blazer that fit me so perfectly, was slightly shiny, stretchy and moved w/me like fluid and made me look incredibly HOT.  There were pants that matched which were also pretty sexy but a little too flarey in the legs.  But I wore them together and looking at myself, I would definitely do me.  At 50% off I was suckered in.  It was still a lot though but after pondering and figuring I could alter the pants, which were a little long, I figured why not.  We don’t have a KM in the states and it would be so cool to own something of hers like this.  Then the salesguy asked if I needed it altered and I was won over, he said they could have it by Wednesday.  
                As he took my credit card I looked at the jacket again and almost died.  It was 30% off, not 50%, and for some reason I’d thought it was going to be S$135, but the original price was 529.  DOH!  I couldn’t even calculate what that would be but I knew it was too much.  I sat there shitting bricks wondering what to do.  I’d look a fool to run up as he was ringing me up and take it back, after he’d pinned the pants for me and the girl wrote the alteration order up for me…  That’s when heaven intervened—both my credit cards didn’t work for some reason and I took that as an out –"You know what, I really have to go, so I’ll come back tomorrow."  He looked worried, "you wanna try the ATM downstairs?"  I said no and ran.

                Yay, I escaped and came to my senses, you’re thinking.  But I really am worried that I have some kind of problem, because I thought about that suit all night, talked to Daphne about it, she said "Good you didn’t get it" and dropped it.  For dinner we went to Upper Thompson road where there’s a row of eateries specializing in crispy prata (like roti chanai but Mikey claimed was MUCH BETTER here than Penang's).  I liked it and the sauce was definitely better than Penang's but I as I told Daphne, “If you blindfolded me and gave me a piece from Penang and a piece from here, I doubt I’d tell the difference”.  I ordered a sugar cane drink and he brought it out—a can of Yeo's!  DOH!  It was gross too.  I told Daphne that’s it, no more Yeo’s drinks.

                Friday morning I called my credit card companies and took off the security holds.  First USA said “We do that when you make large purchases in a foreign country” blah blah blah, but they hadn’t done that when I went to London.  Of course I didn’t try to make as big a purchase there as at KM, but still, as I told Daphne, “Didn’t they see I used the card to buy plane tickets a couple months ago?”  But it’s good they’re being cautious.  After IMing with Mike who told me to use cash and bargain bargain bargain, and phoning/websurfing to find out if I could get cash with my ATM card, I found out there was a Visa ATM for my area located—guess where?  Basement of Wisma Atria—the one the salesguy told me to use.

                It was back to the stores, but I headed out later--Daphne’s mom first caught me scarfing down my Hershey bar which had melted yesterday and which I re-solidified in the fridge, and sat me down to ‘force me’ to eat some noodles with roast pork she’d bought.  She said my Chinese was good—woohoo!  But she’s probably comparing it to Mike’s—which is non existent.

                My goals were 5^th floor Takashimaya for the optic store Daphne recommended, but first the ATM just to see if I could withdraw.  To my surprise I punched in the code and cash comes out—I was expecting some bleeping and blaring and messages like “You cannot get cash here, don’t you realize you are in another country” or “Card unreadable—from foreign country”  but it was a snap.  I coached myself—not getting the suit unless under S$400, or I turn around and leave.  I walk in and see Jason (yes, I know his first name by now) who says "Hey you came back!"  I felt like this was 'my store'.  "Hey, do you still have it?" I asked but he was already fetching it from the rack.  I explained I had 400 cash and lied "My cards aren't working."  "So how will you pay?" he asked, not catching my drift. I had to put it thus delicately, "If I pay you cash can you gimme a deal?"  His brow darkened in that way someone's does as if to say 'So ya wanna play ball, huh?' but he still looked very agreeable and went to ask his manager, some tall intimidating sketchy guy who wasn't here yesterday. 

                As they were in negotiations I saw my first Asian drag queen.  Two tall girls were looking around the store, one was especially tall and prancing around in a short skirt and high boots and long hair.  I never would have looked twice but her/his voice was so deep.  She/he went up and hugged sketchy manager, they were all laughing and talking in I guess Cantonese.  I told Daphne about it later and she just nodded, unsurprised.

                They gave me the whole thing at 50% off, making it S$414 total, because they "have to put it in computer as a percent discount, can't just make up a new price."  So I looked over the jacket as they wrote up a new pants alteration order, and just as I'm leaving I thought it'd be nice to have a hanger, so I turned back for one, thinking if I'm gonna be a primadonna I might as well milk it.

(Ever notice...In Singapore and maybe other parts of Asia, the salespeople take & return your credit card using both hands--very reverent.)

                I also stopped in one optic store after another to get quotes for glasses--OPSM, Optic Point, Paris Miki, Optic Express...finding the "bargain with cash" mantra wasn't getting me anywhere and in fact, the quotes went up at each successive place I visited. 

                We were going to go home and change to go clubbing that night, but I laid down "just to take a nap.  Make sure you wake me up" and it never happened.  I woke up around 11PM feeling like I could sleep the rest of my life, so she didn't push it and we figured we'd go Saturday night instead.

Saturday 3/10                    Wedding, Clubbing, and absolute Kelvin

                Daphne came in as I was sleepily getting up.  "We are going out tonight Grace, and you are getting coffee, like it or not."  First we got ready for her friend's wedding.  It was raining hard so we waited for it to die down.  The Audi was in the driveway and she said to get in so I ran to the door.  "Other side, Grace!"  I'd opened the right side door and found myself facing the steering wheel.  DOH!  She cracked up--very embarrassing.  And I've almost done it at least twice more since then.
             
                We drove around looking for the church and found it, a quaint Catholic number with stained glass windows even though the big sign in front read, "Maximum height 3.5 meters."   At the door she suddenly realized she'd forgotten money (they only give money at weddings here) but luckily I had some, so we hurriedly put it in a red envelope just outside the door and turned around to hand it over to the greeters as they watched patiently.  At the entrance was a big photo book with pictures of the couple done in Taiwan-glamour-shots style.  I looked at the program which was twenty pages of text.  I whispered to Daphne, "This looks long--see, small font."  We alternately sat and stood through about 40 minutes of a French preacher who didn't know the songs very well and spoke with a thick accent.  I passed the time by looking at all the girls' shoes.  I really like the shoes here--funky, although most don't look that comfortable.
                
                The food was well worth the wait.  The plates had holes in them for your cup and slits for holding your forks, a clever idea when you've got to sit on chairs and eat with no table.  There was no wedding cake but a bunch of tiny Asian pastries, and coffee which I downed as promised.  I mostly only talked to one of Daphne's Mudd friends, forgot his name.  He asked what and where I was studying, I said, "Yale" and he said, "Where?"  "Yale.  Yaaale.  Y-A-L-E," I spelled, a little miffed that he'd never heard of it.  Even the optical salesguy at Takashimaya had said "Wow, Yale."  
                "So, what do you study at Why Ay Ell Eee?"
                Later Daphne told me, "I promise he is the only person in Singapore who has never heard of Yale.  He only knows how to play Mudd."

                After they took photos, we dropped a couple of people at a mall and went to shop for my glasses at Yishun.  At Yishun was a less ritzy mall with cheap clothes--got three tops for US$20 total at G2000--where I scolded Daphne for not helping me stop shopping, and kept trying to get her to buy something to make myself feel better.  The optic shop where Mike got his glasses didn't have much selection although it gave me the lowest quote yet.  But the lenses weren't as thin as Paris Miki's and I wasn't crazy about the frames, so after much hesitation we decided to go back to what's now known as "Grace's mall"--Takashimaya.

                Stopped quickly at OPSM to ask my saleslady Stephanie the quote and thickness and lens brand, telling her that Dennis, my man at Optic Point had said Seiko lenses were the best and Kelvin, my boy at Paris Miki said he could get me 1.74 lenses, the thinnest and newest ever.  She didn't have them and claimed they weren't any better, but I was skeptical and went back to Paris Miki, which I already decided I liked best--not only because that's where Daphne got her glasses but also, where the salesguy was cutest.

                We glanced around and Daphne said "Kelvin isn't here today" so we browsed when suddenly he came up to me and said Hi.  When he'd come up to me yesterday and asked if I needed help, I thought Oh no, a good-looking salesguy.  I don't like having an attractive salesguy because they're harder to argue with (guess that's why companies do hire salespeople based on looks).  He was quite skinny with that longish hair with red streaks like one of those Asian male models--in other words, my U.S. guy friends would look at him and either say he's gay, a FOB, or both.  But it worked for him.

                We gave him a hard time.  Daphne said, "Don't you remember me and my sister bought glasses from you?  Give my friend a good deal!"  I kept trying the Bargain With Cash method but he just kept repeating, "Very sorry about this, we cannot discount any more for you."  He looked quite young and his supervisors were milling around in earshot pretending not to listen.  I took out my contacts and had to "let the eyes relax" for half an hour before he could examine them, so we browsed through the store and I dragged Kelvin to the front to take a picture with me.  He joked, "OK, we charge fifty dollars for this."  Then Daphne caught sight of these huge brown rimmed frames, I mean Urkel-sized, for over S$6000!!  They were made of tortoise shell and were the ugliest things in the store.  She also tried on a pair of bug-eyed pastel shades so we made a deal that she'd pose with them if I posed with the tortoise ones.  Barely able to talk because we were both cracking up, I asked Kelvin if I could borrow the glasses for the picture.  "Um, I have to ask my supervisor."  I ran away totally embarrassed while he asked, then he brought them out of the case and took our picture for us.  What a sport!  Poor guy was probably thinking he never had to work so hard for a sale, I could see he was going to tell all his friends about this bloody American girl he had to deal with all day.

                Getting bored, we walked around Takashimaya and I wore my old glasses so I wouldn't be blind and running into people.  I was amazed at all the cheap stuff.  I'm running around going, "This is $39!  This is $19!"  She's like, "Yeah.  So?"  I almost bought a cute black halter top Dave would love, but thought it was S$19 when it turned out to be S$29, so I rejected it.  Although it's hard to break that mentality of "Ah what's another $10, it's not really US$10."

                Daphne told me about hair reborning.  It's a hair straightening treatment.  I said, "What?  Isn't all Asian hair straight?"  She said people want it straighter.  It costs ~S$300.  I said, "That's like a black person saying 'I want a perm because my hair's not curly enough.  Yeah, for every curl, I want it to curl twice.'"

                Back at Paris Miki Kelvin led me right to an exam chair, they checked me and I put my contacts back in.  We went back to the counter.  "So did you decide which lens you want?" he asked, rubbing his palms together expectantly. 
                "Yeah, I changed my mind.  I don't want anything.  Bye."  
                "What?  Oh,"  he said dejectedly.  I said Just kidding.
                We kept trying to bargain but he was like a parrot: "Very sorry about that.  Cannot discount anymore."  I almost thought he was giving me GST back on the original prices but he said "No no, can't do that.  Very sorry."  
                "Oh man, I thought you were starting to work with me there."  
                "Very sorry, I work for Paris Miki.  If I do that I'll be out of a job."  
                "Oh c'mon, how much do they pay you anyway?"  He thought I was serious and said, "Uh, they pay me..."  I interrupted, "I'm just kidding, don't tell me."  I counted out the total for him from the stack of cash I had, giving him coins down to the last cent.  "Look, look I'm giving you everything I have down to my last change.  Look how thin my wallet is now."  As a last desperate attempt I asked him to throw in a bottle of glass cleaner and cloths.  He said, "Yes we can talk about that."  Daphne said, "Talk?  There's nothing to talk about,"  and he smiled.  "Yes that's true.  There is nothing to talk about.  Very sorry, we cannot provide that for you."   AARGH!!  We asked if he worked on commission and he claimed none of them did, but we were dubious.

                For dinner we went to Boat Quay and had Peranakan food, a mixture of Chinese and Malay.  It was good but pricey and portions were small, probably because it was a restaurant next to the water (but it was low tide.  Daphne:  "Hm, not very scenic") and the waitresses were so cheery we couldn't be PO'ed at them.  They even charged $2 for the plate of pineapple, cucumber and onion that was there when we sat down.  Daphne ordered water and muttered "They better not charge me an arm and a leg for it."
              
                Napped at her place and I was able to get up (Daphne was more persistent this time).  I wore my black satiny pant and silver halter with tie that falls to my butt (=outfit Dave would love) and we picked up her friend Pat and went to Zouk at Kimseng Road, really a place with three clubs inside and a Wine Bar, all under one roof.  You buy one ticket and it's good for all of them.  At the Wine Bar we met her friend Germaine, G's brother Thomas, G's friend Eunice, and E's bf Alex, who had the Nokia 8000 series but in gunmetal not chrome, in a little leather snap holder--very cool.  He also had a BMW which here costs like 100K apparently--don't know which one but I think a 3-series.

                We went to Velvet Underground first.  Min age was 23 and we didn't get carded--kind of insulting, but hopefully just because we're girls.  Wasn't crazy about the boppy B52-like music, but got free drinks with the coupons that came with our tickets.  My cran vodka was weak but I wasn't planning to drink much.  After a while, being around all those Asians, especially the anorexic girls that look 12 but have (constructed) chests, made me want more alcohol as the evening went on.  Really, somewhere along the way, some of these girls went way past the point of being thin where it looks good, to being thin where they look like they belong in National Geographic.  Their eyes bug out and their ears and teeth look too big because they have no fat on their faces.  You really get the urge to run up to one, grab her (not too hard or she'll snap) and stuff a pork bun down her throat yelling "For the love of God EAT SOMETHING!!!"

                Daphne said we should look for Kelvin: "Wouldn't it be funny if we saw him?"  I said "Yeah, I'll go up to him and say, 'Gimme a deal!  Buy me a drink!' and he'll say, 'Very sorry about that.  We cannot provide this service for you.'"

                  Thomas talked to me the most.  He and his sister both just finished university in Australia.  Next we went to Zouk which I really liked--big dance floor, just enough of a crowd, laser beams, strobe lights, some steam, big TV screens, and trance trance trance--lots of danceable trance and not too many pauses.  I usually hate pauses but I realize you need some to break it up or it gets monotonous and the best is trying to anticipate the beat when you know it's coming at the end of the break.

                The guys ran the gamut at mostly extremes--small myopic Asian guys who just crawled out of their Internet caverns and suddenly a huge 6' tall white guy would walk past and you're like Whoa.  But most guys are thin or chubby, and they just don't work out--or don't like having big shoulders and chests?  I dunno.  Anyway, Dave could kick all their asses.

                Then went to the last club, Phuture which I also liked--small, and thin crowd but cool music and decor--lava lamps and metal stools molded to the shape of your butt.  There Thomas bought me a screwdriver which was strong.  But they didn't want to stay, so we all went back to VU where I had another strong screwdriver, and finally back to Zouk.

                I had reached my good buzzing level.  Needed cig.  We were dancing next to two guys who might be gay but when I saw the taller one take out cigs and give one to his buddy, I asked if he had another.  He must've been just waiting for an opening because immediately he was pretty friendly.  Not sketchy though.  After dancing awhile he gave me another and now I was really buzzing, and of course I hate feeling like I'm using someone for cigs without talking to them (unless they walk away--which this guy, John, wasn't).  He was from Indonesia, studying here (Daphne says that means $ch-ching$) and had been to NYC three times including Twilo.  We were mostly yelling and not hearing each other but that's basically what I got.  Finally, "You got a boyfriend?" and I nodded cheerily.  He made a "Damn" gesture and I said "Oh c'mon, don't you have a girlfriend?"  (almost everyone here seems to have a squeeze--an age>10 requirement it seems) and he said he just broke up.  Then--why guys take "I have a boyfriend" as a sign to start grinding you, I don't know--but he immediately tried dancing close and touching me.   I pushed him back: "Ahh--nunno."  This happened two more times, with Thomas keeping an eye on us and asking me if I was OK about five times (Daphne:  "What a gentleman").  I kept saying I was fine, etc. and finally the guy backed away to his buddy again and we went upstairs to regroup.  It was closing (3 AM) and Thomas continued, "I was this close to grabbing his collar but he backed off when I gave him a cold stare."  He repeated this multiple times.  "Really it's OK," I said, "I told him I have a boyfriend"  (and obviously that proves such an effective deterrent)  and they said Oh that's good.

                We drove to Bedok for "supper":  Roh Tsuo Mien.  "Smelly beef noodles?" I asked.
                "No, Tsuo, not Tsoh.  Mashed oily noodles." 
                "Mm, sounds great."
                "This is what we Singaporeans do after clubbing--eat fatty food," explained Thomas.
                "We do that too--we have pizza, or hot dogs."
                "No no, that's not nearly fatty enough."

                It was open air seating like at Newton, but here apparently was the one place in Singapore where the litter fine doesn't apply, because there was litter everywhere.  "I feel like I'm back in NYC again."
                First they got Otah, spicy fish cakes wrapped in bamboo leaves, really good.  Then I tasted the mien--it was similar to Ramen but with more garlic and oil, and with fishballs.  Tasty but I wasn't too hungry.  The conversation was interesting, starting with bad drinks (Daphne told them about my hatred for Yeo's.  I got carrot fruit juice, a mixture of carrot, apple and orange juices, which was NOT Yeo's thank God) to tongues and who had a sharp tongue and what kind of tongue means you're a good kisser.  It was brought up that tying knots in cherry stems means you're a good kisser.  Alex said, "Good breath means you're a good kisser.  If you can tie three or four knots but you've got bad breath, forget it."
                I really liked the group.  They were interested in asking me about the U.S., like "How much would a BMW zed 3 cost?"  I guessed around 40K base, they said "Wow, that's cheap."  The convo turned to Indians and they said the rich Indian kids buy their way into universities, but I spoke up and said No, in the U.S. they're the hardest working students, they study the most and get the highest grades.  Of course my sample=2 Ivy League universities which maybe skews things.  But G said in Australia that usually wasn't the case.  The rich Indian kids would pay one poor smart kid to do all their homeworks.  I forgot to ask her what happens at exam time.
                When I say I'm from NJ and go to school in CT, they're all blank-stared until I say "It's all in the New York area" and then it's "Ahh, OK New York."  Alex says "New Jersey?  Soccer players get new jerseys," and everyone groans.  Hey, that's the nicest NJ joke I've ever heard.

Sunday 3/11                    Sentosa Island

                We drove to Sentosa Island, the little touristy island off the coast that Jyoti had told me about and that Mike had said was a waste of time and money.  But instead of doing the whole tour which cost about US$30, we only took the cable car and monorail ride so we could get to the beach.  Mike had told me about the butterfly park, a huge room full of free-flying butterflies that flapped in your face, and how Daphne had dragged him through the whole thing screaming.  I tried to bribe her to go back with me but she was adamant.  
                "I'll give you $50."
                "No way man, you're on your own."
                "I flew all the way around the world!  I wanna see the butterflies!"
                "I'll drop you off in front and meet you there later.  That's the best you're getting."
                "I'll give you $100."  It was like reverse-bargaining with Kelvin.

                On the way to the cable car we walked through a couple gift shops.  I still had to get souvenir gifts for people back home, but everything seemed so useless and cheesy--do people really wear T-shirts with a place's name on them?  I suppose we should do that instead of walking around with a designer logo and performing free advertising for some multimillion-dollar sweatshop-empowered retailer. 
                Anyway, as I was browsing I saw a cute but weird critter hanging from a keychain--looked like a white rodent with its tongue sticking out.  There was a whole display of them, so I asked Daphne, "What's the deal with this rat on a keychain?"  She looked and cracked up.  "That's the Merlion, our national animal."  Oops.  "Sorry, didn't mean to insult your country."  During the day we kept seeing the Merlion (half mermaid, half lion)--passed a huge statue of it during the ride, and saw miniatures of it in all the gift shops.  Every time we saw one she'd say, "Look, the mouse!"  and, "I can't believe you thought our national creature was a mouse!"
                "I didn't say mouse.  I said rat."
                "That's even worse!!!"

                We settled down on Central Beach to soak the rays.  Nearby were some people our age playing volleyball and some thick-accented European guys playing frisbee.  Both sports objects landed near us, spraying us with sand on a more than a couple occasions.  I noticed there were a lot of really dark-skinned kids in the water who looked black.  D said, "Yeah, there are a lot of Indians and Malays that come here."  I said, "They want to get darker I guess."  She agreed, "They're like the people who get hair reborning."

                We napped, read, and made fun of people.  My disposable camera had run out, so she'd brought her dad's camera and took a couple pics of me sitting on the blanket.  When we got up to go, I glanced around and saw the guy near us wearing small red trunks was sprawled out sleeping soundly.  He must have been having a nice dream, because on closer look I spotted the tip of his donger peeking out the top of his trunks!  I was so nauseated I had to share with Daphne.  "Hey, do you want to see something really gross, and promise not to get mad at me?"  She said, "What?" and looked around.  I waited five seconds and she started bawling.  "EWWW!!  That is SO disgusting!"  My stomach hurt from cracking up but trying not to crack up for fear of waking him.  I said Let's get out of here fast.  We grabbed our stuff and booked.

              

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                    At Sim Lim Square I finally bought a camera, and a belt clip holder and hands free set for my phone.  The salespeople would NOT BARGAIN!  But I wasn’t that insistent—I hate bargaining and it was cheaper than home (in fact I don’t know if they sell a belt clip like this at home).  Daphne said the salesguy was “Cute, right?” 
                    “Oh, I guess so.  I didn’t really notice...Anyway, my first love is still Kelvin!”

Monday 3/12                Learning that All Museums are Closed on Mondays

                 Today was designated as my museum day.  I had it all planned out:  Monday museums, Tuesday the beach.  It was hot and sunny.  I studied the map and planned my route.  All the museums are on Bras Basah Road or thereabouts (they call it “the museum district” in vain effort to make Singapore more culturey and artsy, but according to Daphne and most people, it’s not working).  I got off at City Hall stop and walked down (Orchard Road?) then turned down a little street toward the Asian Civilisations Museum, but it was dead.  I walked up, the sign said, “Closed on Mondays.”  I continued down the street to the Singapore Art Museum, it looked suspiciously quiet as well, and sure enough the sign said the same.  I gave up hope on the last one, Singapore History Museum, but stopped by just in case by some miracle it decided to be a nonconformist museum, but it was closed too.  I was starving and sick of malls.  What to do?  I walked back and saw an MPH bookstore.  Apparently MPH is a big bookstore chain like Barnes & Noble here, and I have a personal attachment to it because those are the letters I will have after my name next year, so I went in figuring I could have a nice relaxing air-conditioned day browsing and reading while sipping iced tea in a cafe area I’m sure they had.  I browsed and found an interesting book and found the cafe upstairs, but saw a sign ‘No unpurchased merchandise in cafe area”—doh!  I put the book back and was dying of thirst, so I went to buy a drink.  There was an island in the cafe comprised of a countertop inside of which were two workers busy in a small kitchen of sorts, preparing not only drinks but trays of food—soup, noodles, lunch.  They ignored me for a while as I watched people coming to get their orders and tried to figure out how I could get a drink.  Finally they grunted “Eh?” at me and I asked for water.  They even put it on a tray for me.  This was no half-ass B&N coffee bar.

               I was so sick of shopping, but was literally stuck at the malls.  Went to Suntec, Citylink which is underground and links it to, and Raffles.  I got two pairs of 50% off funky shoes, an Esprit 70% off tank top and some postcards with really cute cartoons on them.  Daphne called around 4:45 to say she’d pick me up in front of Raffles at 6:15 so I sat on a mall bench for like half an hour, bored, and finally thought I’d walk around one more time just to kill time, not to buy anything.  Thought I’d check out Warehouse which I’d purposely passed on before (I told Daphne later, I rejected so many items today, you’d be proud of me! But I don’t think she was impressed)  and it’s like those "% OFF" signs are magnets and I am an iron filing.  Rejected several items but found another damn pair of black pants, my 3^rd this trip, and only liked them because they’ve got a row of small diamond rhinestones around the waist, for US $24 and much time debating, I got 'em.
                Daphne laughed when she saw my bags.  I defended myself, they’re all good buys!! 

            We went to Clarke Quay to meet her dad and her sister.  We found her dad first, so we walked around as we waited for her sister, looking at the little merchant shops and stands outdoors.  Daphne saw a yellow tie covered with smiling cartoon condoms for S80cents and grabbed it, “You have to give this to Dave.”  Her dad walked up to us just as I was touching it and I let it go like it was on fire and fell into a fit of giggles, totally embarrassed.  Bashfulness is a rare trait here, because after I bought it, her dad came up to us again and asked her what I bought.  She said, "A condom tie."  He said, "What?"  I was hoping they'd just drop it, but she raised her voice, "A condom tie!  A tie of condoms!"  and took it out of the bag, waving it at him, like it was so crucial that he understand.  I wanted to crawl under a chair.

                Her sister arrived and we sat in the open air seating surrounded by other tables and food booths, I was learning that this was pretty much the standard eatery around here.  Daphne and I both ordered Mee Soto (green chili noodles) and they also ordered chicken and beef satay and now I knew why they said the satay at Newton sucked because this was so much better.  They also got squid—and everything with chilies, green chilies, red chilies (when we were eating mashed oily noodles after clubbing, Alex had asked, "I heard in the US you can order chili, do they really eat just a bowl of chili?" because "chili" to them means the hot chili sauces they add to food).  After dinner we walked around and caught sight of a couple guys selling Turkish ice cream, mashing up mounds of it with a long wooden stick.  Intrigued we asked for some, he held it out on the stick, turned it upside down with the cone stuck on top, and when you tried to grab it he’d pull it away quickly or flip it around fast.  I tried to grab too hard and crushed the cone and it plopped to the ground!  By now a crowd had developed and they all laughed, how embarrassing.  I tasted it, it was watery and not very creamy, interesting but I wasn’t crazy about it.

                 Wendy asked if I’d tried Durian.  I said “Not yet but Daphne’s told me about it,” so we stopped at a market on the way home.  Daphne told me to get out with Wendy while she stayed in the car and made faces at us through the window.  Wendy protested “It doesn’t smell that bad!”  I could smell it but it wasn’t unbearable.  She said in season (May) it’s much worse.  We tried it when we got home.  It’s mushy and dry and reminds me of Jamaican breadfruit except it’s got the smell and taste—kind of like rotten garlic.  Not totally gross, I was expecting worse, I could take a few bites and it was OK, but I said, “That’s enough”  and I wouldn’t get it again.  Apparently Mike had almost thrown up after one bite (Daphne hadn’t warned him) and I’ve been much better about the whole Singaporean food thing than he.  Daphne says you can’t really appreciate or enjoy Singapore if you don’t eat or like the food and I agree.  And the plates tonight for the four us only cost S$24!  You can't beat that.

Tuesday 3/13 Sandless beach

                Doh!  Today is cloudy and supposed to be my beach day.  Yesterday would’ve been perfect for beach but it was my failed museum day.  Luck has not been with me.
                The beach (Paris Ris) is not what I expected.  It's actually Paris Ris Park so it's mostly a park, with small paths for bikers and rollerbladers, and a little beach.  In fact when the bus made the "roundabout" turn Daphne had told me about, I was confused because I couldn't see the beach--barely made out water through all the park trees.  Well it's mostly kids and families playing in the sand, everyone's wearing T's and shorts and there are chairs.  No one's lying on the sand which is apparently the second spot in Singapore exempt from the litter fine.  So needless to say, I'd feel rather self conscious about stripping down to my bikini and laying out and oiling up here.  But after almost two hours of MRT and bus--yes bus, to City Hall, change, to the last MRT stop, to the last stop on the next bus (stopping at McD's, and yes I'm getting my most cultural experiences at lunch these days.  Hey, I'd love a Popiang again if they had it), I'm sticking it out.  

                On the bus here we went through Paris Ris Heights, which looked like a rich neighborhood because the houses were pretty big and so nice--two levels, with glass doors and big bay windows, balconies, beautiful landscaping.  I notice all the houses here are gated and walled in.  I wonder why because it's so safe.  Maybe to keep out all the stray cats of which there are zillions--when a car starts you see all these cats scamper away from under it.  Daphne's house is like $600K so I wonder how much these must be.  Isn't it funny when you get older you start wondering how much houses and condos and apartments cost--when you're younger you just notice how big and nice they are, you don't care how much they cost.

                 When I got out of the MRT Daphne had said to make a left and get the 400 bus but I couldn't find a 400 stop--asked a really dark Malay guy standing by a piece of lawn equipment and he looked horrified at my approach and pointed me silently in the direction I came from.  I really must look like a priss here with my pink outfit, Prada bag, Gucci shades and Takashimaya shopping bag.  All I need is a pair of high spike heels to complete the picture.
                    I've been getting so much sleep here, like ten hours a night, but still get so sleepy after dinner and am sleepy now.  Daphne must think I'm the laziest bum.  Like her dog Skirt.  She says Skirt doesn't have the energy to bark away an intruder.  She'll go, "Ruff," then lie down breathless like, "Whew I'm tired now."

                    OK I've changed venues.  The rest of the beach is grass right up to the water, but the plus is that it's cleaner and quieter.  Still a lot of kids though--apparently on spring break.  So I spread the mat and I'm lying down.  Still can't strip though.
                    This morning on IM Mike said, "I heard at the wedding guys were buaya you."  I said, "What?"  He said buaya literally means crocodile but the phrase means "hitting on."  I said, "No, who said that?  Unless by guys, you mean one guy, and by hitting on, you mean talking to."  He said Yeah maybe.

                    Fell asleep on the “beach” for a bit so when I woke up I was starting to get a faint tan line at my skirt.  That wasn’t good.  I read some more of Soul Mountain, man that thing is a monster, I feel like I’ve been working at it forever and not even halfway thru and there’s no plot.  I have a feeling it’s probably a lot better in Chinese and something gets lost in the translation.

                At around 3:30 D called to say we could meet at Pasir Ris station and I could walk around the mall there while waiting.  Another mall, ack!  But I definitely didn’t feel like shopping unless I saw souvenirs for people at home.  At 5:00 I left the beach, by now the sun had been out for a couple hours and I was sweating just sitting there.  Back at Pasir Ris I was dehydrated, so I found the supermarket (which is always the ground floor of these malls I’ve learned), got a Pokka carrot fruit juice (I really like that stuff) and sat on a bench to drink it.  One complaint about these malls is there’s no scenic place to sit.  The benches are always facing other benches or walls.  Guess they do that so you get bored fast and keep on shopping.  They really have perfected this whole sales thing—the salespeople, even the girls who give you dressing rooms, are sooo into top notch attentive customer service (a little too attentive maybe—they stand and watch you as you browse, ask if you need help, take each item for you that you pick out to try on, take them off the hangers and take your shopping bags aside)  that you feel guilty if you decide not to get anything (and then they lower their eyes and look all despondent, as if to say, There goes my bread and butter for the week for my five children at home).  As I drank she called again to say she couldn’t make it here in time, we’d just meet at home.  Good, so I didn’t have to kill the last half hour by walking around the mall and inevitably getting magnetized by some store.  As I was on the MRT back she called to see where I was and we decided to meet outside Raffles again, she picked me up and we went to a Szechuan restaurant.  

                    By now I had to go pee but held it so we could order first, then let her make all the decisions anyway--duck, fish, a veggie, and fried dumplings.  I said fine fine, ran to the toilet, I went and the thing wouldn’t flush.  There was a sign next to it saying Failing to flush toilet is against the law, fine 150.  So I kept pushing the damn button, which was really hard to push--my fingers hurt!  But there was still some toilet paper that wouldn’t go down, and finally I gave up.  I hurried back to the table cringing, trying not to be noticed by anyone.  Daphne saw the look on my face.  "What is it?"  I told her and she cracked up, said the lady at the other table was just complaining loudly that someone was taking so long in the restroom, and asked the waitresses if she could use the Gents', so they let her.  I said it was a good thing too, or she would’ve gone in after me and seen the partially unflushed toilet and been even more pissed!

                The food was really really good.  Daphne asked what I didn’t like most about Singapore, was it the heat?  I said Yea, the humidity I guess.  And what did I like best, the shopping?  I said Yes, and the food.  And I like how it’s got all the conveniences of a city but isn’t smelly and dirty and crime-ridden like most cities.  So all the pros and none of the cons.  I also like the music the radio stations play, it’s poppy and happy sounding and a good variety, although I'd probably get sick of it if I heard it every day.  And I really liked those clubs. 

                For dessert I had a mango pudding which was sooo much better than the only one I’ve ever tasted, at East Buffet.  It was from a jello mold and floating in a small dish with milk.  Daphne had to rush me though, since she suddenly got a stomachache and "I don’t want to use that toilet that doesn’t flush."  She wouldn’t let me pay, again!  She said I could treat her to dinner in the states.  All she wants are Cluck U wings.  I told her there are lots of wings places near me at school, and I think they’re better than Cluck U.

                She dropped me home and went to pick up her oldest sis Tammy at the airport.  I turned on her TV but again could only get one channel, of a tennis match, so I played the VCD in the player and it was in the middle of some funny Chinese martial arts movie with subtitles, where a woman was playing a man who was disguised as a woman (get that?).  I did some sit-ups and email and she came back and said I was supposed to turn on the cable box to get more channels.  I said there’s one channel, a tennis match, and she turned it on and said "That’s badminton."  Oh.  "Well it was tennis before!"  I insisted.  She said "OK Grace, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt".  She didn’t sound convinced.

                I got sunburned on my shoulders, I’m itchy.

Wednesday 3/14    You Don't Just Talk--You Crocodile

                By now I can recite the stops of the entire east half of the M1 Marina Bay MRT line from memory:  Yo Chiu Kang, Ang Mo Kio, Bishan, Braddell, Toa Payoh, Novena, Newton, Orchard, Somerset, Dohby Ghaut, City Hall, and Raffles Place.  Cool eh?  Sounds part Boston T, part Jersey turnpike, part Monopoly, and part Penang’s menu.

                 Today I finally hit the museums.  They were so dead and empty--only me and a few white people.  They're small and don't have much stuff yet--like I said, I think they're in the process of trying to make Singapore a more cultural hub.  First I showered and emailed as usual.  Dave still hadn't replied.  I was so sad, but partly suspected something was wrong and he couldn't email for some reason.  Just as I'm about to log off I get a long message from him, apologizing and sure enough he couldn't get access 'til "recently" and went on about how much he missed me, how his sister wants to see the girl he's "raving about" and how he bought an MCI calling card for me to use, and he wrote out the instructions.  When I read that I cried with relief.  How could I even have thought to be mad at him or think he didn't care or didn't miss me.  I called him right away, and he made fun of me for being on email so much.  I explained that I'm biding my time trying to avoid the malls.   I emailed him after our short convo to say he could call me Wednesday night at 9PM which would be Thursday 10AM for me.  He replied to remind me he was on the West coast so he was another 3 hrs back.  I replied back that I think the heat is making me dumb(er).  

                First, the American Civilisations Museum.  It was probably my favorite one today.  I can't believe how intricately they made things that were just used for eating food out of. 

                Incidentally, I have been the most skimpily dressed person on the MRTs and roads--everywhere but the malls, where there's the occasional anorexic wearing black halter top and black miniskirt and black clogs or knee high boots, and I think those are prostitutes.  People stare and I'm rather self conscious, but damn I can't see how they can wear jeans and long sleeves in this weather!  Women wear full skirts, and pantyhose!  Women in the US don't even wear pantyhose in the winter, anymore.

                Second was the Singapore History Museum, where the coolest thing was the introductory 3D movie.  They flung bombs at us and planes spiraled toward us shooting fire and missiles.  It was a good overview of the discovery and independence and different political parties and the economic boom of the country.  Third, the Singapore Art Museum, which would've been cool if only half the exhibits weren't closed off.  I would've argued for some of my money back but for S$3, nah.  I did like some Steve Sorman, John Walker and Ron Lichtenstein pieces.  One "sculpture" was an array of colored glass pieces, each with a word on it like "impatience," "wave," "valor" and the like (like magnetic poetry), all arranged in the shape of a wave, about 9' x 3'.  I wondered how they got it here.  Did the artist come here to arrange it?  Or did they ship and move it real, real carefully?  Impossible.  Maybe there was no specific arrangement, the workers just dumped it out on the platform and he was on the phone telling them, "Yeah, just push them into the shape of a wave."

                I've decided I really like the big paintings with bold, bright colors and strokes.  When I have a house I want a huge painting like that in the foyer, and in addition to the psychedelic theme room I'm planning to have (lava lamps, blacklights, candles, velvet sofas like in Venue's lounge) I'd also like an Asian theme room--Japanese sliding doors, jade vases, calligraphy scrolls.

                Still had an hour and a half to kill.  Went back to Raffles Mall which I know very well by now.  I couldn't even bring myself to walk around one more time.  I can already tell you what's on what rack in Esprit.  So I strolled toward Robinson's which was having a grand opening tomorrow and some premiere invite-only event was going on.  Everyone crowded around, men in suits and women in dresses and shawls were going in past the guards and photos were being snapped.  I stopped to watch and after a bit this small dark man next to me asked the time, and when was this opening?  He spoke a mix of English and Mandarin so I answered in Mandarin unless I needed to resort to English, and gradually he asked me where I was from, where my parents were from, why was I in Singapore, said he was from Hong Kong and wasn't shopping in Singapore so expensive?  I almost blurted, "What are you, kidding?"  but remembered he's from HK where the shopping's supposed to be even better--man I don't want to think about what kind of compulsive behavioral disorder I'd develop there.  He looked older, starting to wrinkle around the eyes, but was only 28 and was surprised to learn I was already 24. 
                After awhile my inner timer warning bells told me he was talking to me too long.  He said, "You have a cold look about you.  You don't smile much, why?"  What are you supposed to say to that?  I kept checking my watch, it was only 6:30--at least this was helping me kill time--but when he said, "Let me see your life line," pointing to his palm, stupidly I started to open mine and when he started to read it I thought Wait, so I've had a lonely day at the museums not having anyone to talk to, but still I do not need to be buaya by unpleasant-scented dark man 70% of my size (that's both height and breadth).  So I said abruptly, "I have to go to the MRT to Tiong Barang to meet my friend" (in English because I was in a rush--no time to think of the words in Chinese) and of course he offered to walk me there, pointing out how many stops were on the way and explaining how the MRT and bus card works, as if I haven't been using one all week.  I was grateful he was so nice, but all his chatter about Singapore's population, how it compares to HK, Japan, etc. was getting yawny.  Way before my stop he said "Bye, have good trip back to US," I said "Thanks, bye," and it wasn't there yet so he said Bye like two or three more times before the train finally stopped and I got out ("alighted").

                    Met Daphne at Tiong Bahru station for her aunt's birthday dinner.  The restaurant was right there in –guess what?  A mall.  I said, "Can you walk anywhere around here without first going through a mall?"  She said she didn’t think so.  There’s a mall at almost every MRT stop.  I said Yea I noticed.  We were early so we wandered around first, she said she got 2 tshirts at U2 (their ‘Gap’ I call it, although she says ‘but it’s less boring than the Gap’ and I agree) for S9 each so as we passed she asked "You want to stop by?"  I said "Sure" as my feet were already walking in.  I got a teal tank top which I HAVE been wanting, for S9 and spotted some wraparound sweaters in khaki, again which I’ve been wanting, with the tie and trim in (fake?) suede, for S29 but they were all large.  I said Too bad, then noticed they’re 100% lambswool, and for the heck of it tried it on and D said it fit me fine, I think they’re supposed to be tight but I’m going to be wearing something underneath it anyway, so I bought it along with her S5 belt (she tried to give me $ and I said "Please, you’re insulting me, can't I even get you a $5 belt?!") and the total rang up to $33.  I charged it and as soon as I got my receipt back, D grabbed the bags and booked it out of the store!  I was bewildered.  I ran out thinking we were late for the dinner, but she said, "She rang it up wrong, how could the total be 33?"  Oh.  She had a point.  I looked and the wrap sweater had been 19, not 29.  There were some other numbers on the receipt she said were the original prices (79 for the sweater).  I was psyched!  I went on and on about why would someone pay 79 for it and I’d gotten it for US$10.  She turned into a CD store and went up to a salesperson so she could shut me up.

                At dinner I was positively ravenous, and it was like a Chinese wedding..they just kept bringing out dish after dish after dish.  Fish, mixed seafood w/fried tofu, garlic fried chicken, sauteed stir fried Chinese spinach, sauteed eggplant in garlic sauce, fried prawn & pork dumplings, fried slices of mashed yam w/mixed veggies, and lo mein at the end.  I asked why at these multi-dish dinners they bring out the fried rice or lo mein as the last dish.  No one knew, but Wendy said if she ate it first she’d feel too full to eat the rest.  I said that’s true, better to have the cheap stuff last in case you can’t finish it.  No wonder the fish came first. 

There were green and red chilies to complement everything of course.  Her oldest sister Tammy told me to try the red ones, I was about to shake a couple into my rice bowl and they all yelped. ‘They’re quite deadly you know!’ Daphne pointed to the tiny chili bowl so I put some in there and was instructed to add soy sauce.  "Oh, it’s like making wasabi sauce" I said, and I dipped my chopstick and tasted it.  They all looked at me expectantly waiting for me to spontaneously combust or something, but I just said, "It’s good."  Everyone seems to be surprised I can do spicy.  I guess I look like a spice wuss.

                Lastly there was a coffee flavored birthday cake for her aunt, probably the only thing besides the fish that wasn’t fried.

                Tammy’s daughter Joie was wearing the same color and pattern dress as me (but not as skimpy).  She’s six and quite talkative and went around singing and doing patty cake.  Daphne said she’s been doing that ever since going to her new school.  She’d also eaten six pieces of bread w/peanut butter before coming here, and was refusing to eat because "it’s oily" and was depressed because "I’m too fat."  I wanted to cry, to see a six-year-old already thinking she’s fat and worrying about what she eats.  Six is a time to be sneaking candy whenever you can and only refusing food because you think it’s gross.  I sound like an old crony waving my cane croaking, "Back in my day…" But seriously, where are kids getting these ideas?  I didn’t start worrying about fat 'til I was at least 12, and then it was only my thighs, and wishing I could scrape the fat off them and plaster it onto my chest (come to think of it, times haven’t changed much).  I played with Barbies too, although I didn’t like them that much, but we also had Cabbage Patch Kids and those things were pretty damn chubby.  They had dimples all over, even on their butts.  I also remember wondering why they had such nice light, soft bodies, but heads like bowling balls.  You could swing one of them around by the heels and seriously take someone out with that lead-head.  But I digress.

                    I told Daphne about the small dark man at Raffles and she said he was definitely hitting on me.  I said, "So talking to someone is hitting on them then," and as she was taking a mouthful of food I said "Hey, Mike said he heard guys at the wedding were...buaya me," and she choked, almost spit out her food.  "That was __!" she said (the guy who didn't know Yale--for the life of me I cannot commit his name to memory), and we laughed.

                    At the end of dinner I noticed people passing around photos.  "Hey, our beach pictures are developed!"  My eyes bugged out.  "Ack!  Go take them out!  Daphne I'm in my bikini!"  She just sat and laughed.  "For the love of God, I'm begging you!"  They were all milling around, flipping through the stack one at a time.  It was at the end of the roll.  Cracking up she said, "All right I'll see what I can do."  She managed to rescue them just before they were passed around.  Whew.

                       Later tonight:  "Hey, I was thinking--if just talking to someone means you're hitting on them--then Kelvin must have thought I was really hitting on him!"  She laughed and said "Yeah maybe."

Thursday 3/15        Full Bags, Empty Wallet

                    Got up, emailed and IM'ed 'til 12 with Mike and Quon.  Dave called at 10AM as planned.  I only planned to go to Lucky Plaza (Daphne had suggested it for souvenirs), Centrepoint (for a belt like hers) and Tanglin (arts and crafts), and lastly back to Karen Millen to pick up my pants.  At Lucky I found fragrances for cheap at a store with an Indian woman and got a whole bunch, then walking around I realized there were stores like it everywhere there.  Starving, I gave in to some noodles (I first saw a McD's but was determined to have a more cultural lunch on my last day) and went back outside.  The stores continued under Lucky Plaza (although I don't know if it was still Lucky or had become some other mall at some point) but were also open to the sidewalk.  I stopped in a small shop that sold cute cloth-covered pouches and boxes and got a couple for Mom and Lucy. 

                     I arrived at Centrepoint.  It was just like Raffles and most other malls, and I had one last stint where I spent a good while picking out two tanks and the salesgirl said "$9 can't try on."  "But I want to see how they fit."  "$9 can't try."  That's not the point.  I gave up and put them back.  That was the last straw.  I was so sick of looking at clothes that I went into the Metropolitan Museum of Art store (to have my fill that the Art museum didn't satisfy yesterday), a store with all things As Seen On TV, and even considered an auto parts store but stopped myself from being that desperate.  Killed some time at Times bookstore reading Entertainment Weekly.  Sat on the front steps drinking water.  It wasn't unbearably hot today because it had rained a little.  Twice students stopped to ask me for donations--for the first one I politely waited 'til she finished her Chinese schpiel before I said bluntly in English, "I don't have any," and as for the second I cut him off with "Someone already asked me."  Don't they understand, I'm the charity case now!  Seriously, every time Daphne or her family tries to give me something (dinner, shoes, pork) I tell her I feel like a charity case.

                    To avoid further harassment I walked back toward Orchard station and stopped at Heerin Mall which had a three-level HMV.  Spent a good hour sampling CDs--a good jazz one, some OK but cheesy dance ones.  Most are cheap (same S$ price as would be US$)  except the hip hop ones for some reason.  I sat outside, and went back for the jazz CD (a double disc of jazz hits which I thought would be a good start to my collection, as I have no clue about jazz).  I took a photo of a display called "Art for AIDS", a bunch of framed condom art.
                    By now it was time to get my pants.  I'd tried them on when I'd gotten in at Orchard Station.  Jason wasn't in but the little girl who'd written my order and fetched my hanger (looks like Sherry Gao from college) brought them out for me.  They fit great--they'd taken in the taper just right.  I now think this jacket and pants are the nicest, best-fitting outfit I own.  And lord, did I pay for it. "Can I pick it up at 5:30?"  "Of course," she said again with that slight head bow and lowered eyes--so deferent.  I felt like such a prima donna--nevermind that I'd just gotten stuff off their 50% Clearance rack.  I was half afraid she'd ask for a fee for the pants but didn't.  Thank goodness because I literally had S$10 left after lunch.  I took out another S$50 from the ATM hoping to stretch it for dinner and cab tomorrow.

                    City Hall and Raffles stop was packed--rush hour.  I ran onto the train and heard behind me, "Grace!"  Thinking, "I don't know anyone in this city, that can't be for me," I ignored it but heard it again.  I turned and it was Ah Gui (finally got it down).  I almost laughed thinking of the buaya conversations.  He moved over so I could sit.  He was going to dance class.  I said "Daphne does that too right?"  He said, "Um, lately not."  I said "That's because I'm here."
                    "I see you did more shopping today."
                    "I just picked up my altered pants."  Nod.  Silence.  "We're going to Raffles to have Singapore Slings, the famous drink.  Have you heard of it?"
                    "No."
                    "Do you know anything besides Mudd?"  Oh wait, that sentence I didn't say out loud.
                    Way before it stopped at City Hall he said "Have a good trip home" and shook my hand, and again there was awkward silence until the train finally stopped, so we said Bye again. 

                    I went out to meet Daphne at Marks and Spencer but it was gone--found out it was only on the second level now.  Robinsons was open to the public and people were pouring in.  I'd never seen the malls this crowded.  Plus some music show was going on at the center fountain so people were milling around watching.  Finally found her and we went to Raffles Hotel restaurant--very quaint looking, and I thought it would be expensive but Daphne said it's the cheapest one here (Raffles is the oldest hotel in Singapore), and anyway "expensive" here is S$12 an entree.  The rooms though, she said cost $1000-1500 a night.

                    I told Daphne, "Guess who I saw on the train."  She said, "Jin Gui?" and I said, "Huh?  I thought his name was Ah Gui."  She said, "Who's Ugly?"  and we had a rather confused exchange for a little bit.  "You mean the I-Don't-Know-Yale guy, right?"  and finally we both understood (Ah Gui is his nickname).

                    We ordered two Singapore Slings.  They were fruity and OK but nothing that awesome.  We asked the waiter what was in it, he just shrugged.  I asked him to take our pic with them and he took forever.  I told Daphne he reminded me of a guy I'd asked to take my pic in Raffles mall.  I demonstrated how he'd tried a zillion different positions with the camera, bugging his eyes and squinting and raising his eyebrows until he finally took the pic.  She said, "He was trying to hit on you too--just delaying and prolonging the amount of time he could talk to you." 

                    We toasted to good friendship and a good trip.  She barely drank half of hers.  I downed mine and felt a slight buzz, but barely, then poured half of her leftover into mine insisting we finish it.  I finished mine but she didn't touch it, said she already felt it.  I gave her a hard time:  "You're obliged to finish it 'cause I'm treating you!"  But she wouldn't budge.

                    On the bus back home we were dead tired.  A guy came to check our tickets but I couldn't find mine, and by the time I did he was at the back and never came back to check.  I said "He never checked me.  Maybe he's hitting on me...with his silence."  She said, "Yeah that's it.  'She looks good, no need to get her ticket.'"

                    At her house I finished packing and confirmed my flight online.

Friday 3/16  Learning How To Claim GST, and Flying Home

                    Woke up to Daphne's alarm at 4:20AM with a horrible stomach cramp.  Figured it was just one of those stomachaches you get from getting up so early and hoped it'd go away.  A couple minutes later the taxi service called, its wake-up call.  I sat and realized I was set and really didn't have to get up so early--had my clothes picked out and all.  So I did some situps and pushups and found out it's pretty nauseating to exercise that early in the morning.

                    I decided to write a thank you note to Daphne on the cute bear card she liked and she came in as I was writing but just sat in her chair disoriented--I went to the bathroom and came back and she was in the exact same position.  She went out and I heard the gate and cab, just then I realized I was still wearing my flip flops, so I jammed them into my purchases bag and put the card next to her bed.  We hugged goodbye.

                    On the drive to the airport I looked out the window at the passing landscape for the last time.  It reminded me of that last early morning ride to the airport in Jamaica.  Does a country always look more beautiful when you're seeing it for the last time?  I'll have to ask someone next time I drive them to Newark airport.

                    When we arrived the cabbie put my bags on a pushcart and said 23.  What?  I thought I'd remembered Daphne saying it would cost about 12.  And his meter said 11.90 so I asked him what was the deal.  He said, "Don't worry, just one minute."  He printed out an itemized receipt that showed another 5 for reserving the night before, 6 for the wake-up call.  "Don't worry, all the taxi charge this.  I not cheat you.  Everyone in Singapore very honest."  OK fine.

                     I went in and was very confused.  There were big digital signs listing all the flights and counter numbers, and according to them mine (UA852) was going to Newark, counter #2.  I was neither going to Newark nor could I find counter #2, so after pushing my cart back and forth a couple times in indecision, I asked a guard who pointed me way down to the other side.  At the UA counter I asked, "Is this going to Narita?"  
                    "Yes."
                    "Why's it say Newark?"
                    "Stop at Narita, stop at San Francisco, arrive Newark."  
                    I panicked for a second. 
                    "You're changing planes at Narita," she says in an automatic tone of voice and checks my passport (count=1), and I get the feeling she's been saying this repeatedly--and it's only 5:45 AM.  

                    I wandered around looking for my gate when I remembered the GST.  Walked through a door, showed my boarding pass, and through immigrations where I showed my passport (count=2).

                    At the GST counter was a stern-looking young guy at "GST inspection" and an equally stony faced woman at "GST cash refund."  Inspector was first.  I handed him my Karen Millen and Paris Miki forms and receipts.  He looked them over and asked, "What did you buy?" in a slightly incredulous tone, emphasis on the "buy?" as if to say, "What the hell did you spend so much money on?"  I said, "Um, clothes...and spectacles."  (I love being in another country where you can use words you'd never use in the U.S.  "Could you hold my spectacles while I go to the toilet, before we take the lift up to the third storey?")  I gave him a blank look--couldn't he read the receipts?  Not only could he see I'd bought clothes and spectacles, he could see I got "STRETCH HIPSTER TROUS," "STRETCH CLASSIC JACK," "TIFFANY TOP," "Frame and Lens PRESTIGE" and "Sunglass GUCCI." 
                    He checked my passport (count=3).  "So these items are all checked with your baggage already.  Next time you have to show them here."   He proceeded to give me directions to a door where I could come through with my baggage, get GST, then go back out to check it, all of which I'm sure to remember the next time I'm here on one of my regular traipses across the world.  I was also about to say that my spectacles were being sent to me so I didn't have them yet, when he said "GST refund is for hand-carried items only," so I shut up quick.
                    Next was Cash Woman.  She said S24.  I said, "Can you give me US dollars?"  She said, "Well, if I give you US dollars it's $13.  In S$ it's 24."  I was guessing she was warning me it was a bad rate because she really seemed reluctant to give me US dollars, so I asked, "How much would I get at the money changer?"  She said, "Yah, money changer is over there."
                    "Yeah, will it be the same there?"
                    "Same."
                    I gave her another blank look and motioned her to give me the US dollars.  I got the feeling this was not the part of the airport with the highest concentration of brainpower.

                    By now my stomach was cramping.  I spent a long time on the toilet, and let's just say it was a good thing it was so early in the morning and no one else was frequenting the bathroom.

                    I changed my last S$24 and they gave me $13 US and some Singapore change.  I asked for US change but they said it wasn't enough for $1 US.  Oh.  As I turned to go, there was a Sisters of the Poor charity coin drop right there.  Sneaky Singaporeans!

                    I went through the big x-ray (count=4) and to my gate (count=5).  The gate was a glassed-in area with a passport-checking "bouncer" at a small door.  It was like we were trapped in a fishbowl as people outside stared in and were allowed to roam freely to Duty Free shops and the bathroom.

                    We boarded and the Japanese guy next to me immediately crossed his arms and bowed his head forward to sleep.  He has not moved since.  He's going to have a mad crick in his neck when he wakes.

                    49 hours 'til I see Dave again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                    I used to think the most beautiful view was of a city at night from a plane, but now I think, a tropical archipelago at sunrise on a clear morning can beat that.  The rivers are windy like cursive script ("drunken script" from a calligraphy scroll), wafts of smoke are rising up from different spots, land and sea.  A perfectly oval lagoon is carved out of one island, the cliffs around it clear cut.  The roads and land plots form outlines, cutting the land into jigsaw puzzle pieces.  A faint mist lies over it all.  Now we're higher and the clouds are sparse and tiny like a running flock of sheep, each tinted on the east side with pink sunlight--I'm writing like mad and I wish I could tell it all but much as I love writing, there are some things it just can't do.
                    Each island is outlined in white where the sea foam hits the land.  Now there's a sheet of very thin, partly transparent clouds coming toward us--passing below us--looks like water--now like frosted glass with intricate etchings on its golden-white surface, and through it I see the billowy, opaque pure white clouds below.  Now I know what he meant in the movie "American Beauty" when he said, sometimes so much beauty makes you want to cry.

Tokyo --> JFK  3:45 AM EST

                    And now it's sunset on a clear day.  The clouds are now tinted blue and they look cold, like if you plunged your hand into one it would freeze, like in liquid nitrogen.  On the horizon is the spectrum with each color band delineated very clearly--ROYGBIV--and it meets the bluest sky.
                    I got a great nap in Narita.  In front of one of their big flatscreen, plasma TVs (NEC--never heard of it--and I wonder, is Sony considered their crappy commoner's brand?) and wondered when they were going to call us, when I looked around and realized I wasn't at Gate 26, but in the lounge next to it.  People were boarding and they were saying "final call" (a guy nearby sarcastically remarked, "It's their first final call.").  I boarded and my row was empty, Yay!  Just as almost everyone was seated, a large white guy and his Japanese girlfriend sat next to me and my heart sank.  I didn't even think she was assigned here, but just wanted to sit with him.  I couldn't believe for an 18-hour flight when I definitely would not be able to hold going to the bathroom like I did to Narita, in such an empty plane, I was in a full row.  Just before taking off, the stewardess said, "If you want to get comfortable, now's the time" and the guy asked, "We can move?" and the Japanese girlfriend saw another seat and they booked.  Whew!  That was a close one.
                    Man I am sick of chicken, but it's always a choice between that and a really fatty dish.
                    They're having trouble with the audio and restarting for the third time.