A mum, dad and their three kids from Tasmania, go on an epic adventure in Borneo for 3 weeks in December
Tag Archives: sentosa
December 25, 2011Posted by on
We’re at Tiong bahru market for breakfast, an enormous food hall. The range of cuisine here is absurd! I only ever eat one of two things for brekky back home; muesli or oat porridge. Here we eat roast chicken rice, noodles and char siew, char siew bao, chicken glutinous rice, goreng pisang (deep fried bananas) and other dishes I can’t identify. The vast number of stalls selling every kind of Chinese, Malay, Indian, Nonya cuisine you can think of beggars belief. If one could measure say food density of a nation – say tonnes of food per square kilometre, I reckon Singapore would take the durian cake. I take video of the various stalls until the Kuih stall lady yells at me to go away. I dig kuih, but I”m not buying any of hers today.
What I can’t understand is that despite eating huge breakfasts, cooked lunches, and dinners there are actually skinny people here! I can’t eat the quantities of these people who are three fourths my size and they are still thin?! I feel these people should be co-opted and dissected to find out by what dark magic they process all these calories defying the laws of thermodynamics and remaining thin.
A huge sign on a building with a leaping tiger says Tiger Balm works where it hurts – but if you ask me there are definitely places that might hurt (particularly orifices) that you definitely don’t want Tiger Balm anywhere near – think Deep Heat.
Our next stop is the Wee Clinic which has nothing to do with urology. My aunty Wee Hong Neo (the phoenix lady my brother in law tells me) is an excellent GP. In fact on our way home from India in 2000 Nani was similarly sick and we stopped by and she diagnosed our first pregnancy – news to which we were both aghast due to the cocktail of vaccines we had been pumped with to go to the sub continent. She’s probably getting sick of us being sick and dropping by to arm ourselves to the teeth with scripts but goes about her business in a very business like manner but generously (and surprisingly) produces three ang pow for the children, who are quite amazed. Sadly because of the condition of the kids, she feels it best not to visit for Christmas because their great grandmother may just not be strong enough to fight their germy germs so we’re at a loose end for Christmas day. I had been looking forward to seeing my Singapore relatives, but it won’t be this trip.
We have stashed the kids with John at River Valley Rd and Nani urges me to visit ViVo an enormous new shopping centre. She says I need to experience it to have my world broadened. Who is she kidding? I politely decline (well, I just decline) and she knows well enough not to persevere without wasting precious shopping time takes off like an Olympic sprinter.
I head out of ViVo situated on the water front along the almost deserted 525m Sentosa Island boardwalk across the causeway to “Asia’s favorite playground”. Think Disney World meets the far east. Along the way, marketing plastered on columns tells me;
Exciting variety awaits.
A dazzling musical extravaganza
A theatrical circus spectacular
The worlds largest anamatronic crane performance (there are others?)
Ride the movies
Indulge in luxury shopping and rejuvenate yourself
Savor eclectic favors
With such anticipation tempered by some healthy skepticism I eagerly pay the $1 entrance fee.
I wander through the visitor centre and there seems to be lots to do here so grabbing a map, I head off. Happily the place seems fairly deserted (it comes alive at night when it’s cool – only dumb westerners would come here in the day). There are a few people around the entrance to Universal Studios – maybe everyone else is inside. I’m here to see what I can see for free though so I keep moving.
I’m looking for the Lake of Dreams – this appeals to me and might be a good place to just contemplate. It turns out to be a complex series of sculptures and
various pools and water that shoots periodically into the air. The sculptures are kind of other-worldly so I can see the connection to dreams but it’s no place to dream
except of finding a urinal which so far has eluded me. It seems there is one at a nearby hotel (there are lots of hotels here. I can’t believe anyone would stay though) – but alas this one is closed for cleaning.
Another building proudly proclaims “A million moments. One World.” which I like really because I have no idea what it means. It’s cryptic – the sort of thing a sage would tell you when you’re young and then when you are old you realize he was right and you nod knowingly. A huge statue of Rodin the great philosopher sits contemplating above the lake of dreams. He’s doing what I like to do. Sitting and thinking. I’m pleased that some thought has been given to … thought here because all the other statues are of pinnochio and his kind. Rodin is wondering what “a million moments – one world” means. I leave him to it.
I ascend past the five foot high letters that spell Sentosa. It is here that I discover an interesting game – photographing people photographing people. I mean simply photographing the word “Sentosa” would be boring for me and even more so for the people upon whom I inflict my slide show when I get back. So the challenge is thus; capture the photographer, their camera, their subject and the thing their subject is standing in front of. I always mock these kind of tourist photos – “oh this is me in front of the colliseum. And here’s one of me in front of the Great Wall. And that’s one of me in front of the plane we flew on”. These photos are as boring as bat shit (and after Mulu, I know my batshit). and they are totally uncreative so this game – which I admit is a little stalkerish really does make it fun and quite a challenge because you have to be really fast to get into position and catch that Kodak moment.
Ascending further I take mild interest in the 37 metre high part lion, part mermaid the famous Singapore mythical Merlion. The 16 toothed (not four as you would initially think) beast has 320 scales and is decorated with a “sand dollar” icon, or so say the cutesy little information boards. It’s nice that the sculpture that is most identified with this nation pays homage to the mighty dollar. I mean what do Aussies get? A furry mammal with a pocket in front that has a penchant for jumping in front of cars and B Double trucks! Great.
Pleasantly I start to notice some luxurious gardens and cooling waterfalls. A beautiful and colofully designed Merlion Walk through which water flows among sculptures of fish and other aquatic life gently slopes down toward Beach Station. Trees on both sides reach their canopies toward one another forming a green tunnel through which I walk. I get a few more tourist photos of tourists wishing that I could get one standing behind a spouting fish that would make me look like I’m doing a whizz, but the people here look so… wholesome, I don’t dare ask them.
Beach Station where hot pink shuttle trains on the overhead skyflier rails weave their way across the island has a huge indoor sky diving centre The Singapore iFLY “where anyone can fly” – except I assume the very young, the very old, the pregnant, the stroke victim, the blind, the…. From here I can see the beach but I’m running out of time – so much to see and I’m actually enjoying myself.
Heading back toward the mainland I hear the familiar scream of cicadas in a strip of virgin rainforest. The Imbiah Nature Trails fork here and I’m sorely tempted. Near a place where huge brightly colored Macaws sit with tourists for photographs is the beginning of the Feng shui trail. This could be just the yang I need to counter Singapore’s all-pervading consumer yin, but sadly I have to settle for descending the leafy and impressive plantings of Imbiah terrace at the bottom of which is KFC which to my amazement sells egg tarts. At 5pm having not eaten since breakfast the devious consumer Yin wins and I succumb bowing before the Colonel’s great multinational.
On my way out along the still deserted boardwalk (does everyone drive or catch the train across?) Bosch speakers mounted all the way along plays acoustic instrumental music (sounding to me like Tommy Immanuel) and a butterfly drifts past. The plantings beside which i walk are tropical rainforest (a sign tells me so). I wake the sleeping ticket counter lady to ask what the music is. She doesn’t know. No matter, I feel happy. Reaching ViVo to meet Nani with seven minutes to spare, opposite Marks and Spencer I notice the white tiles, are gold flecked.