I Found This Cloud Forest.

It's officially February and time is marching along much too quickly for my liking. The months here melt together, seamlessly folding in to each other — indiscernible due to the lack of seasons. Unless you can count a thick blanket of humidity and daily deluge as a season. It's forever summer in Singapore, meaning Mondays and Fridays and Wednesdays and Saturdays are broken up by the same daily rituals...it makes time go by lots faster. Maybe I should start designating certain days as "avocado shake days" or "wet market shopping for dragonfruit" days...just kidding, that would limit my avocado shake obsession to be a weekly thing, and I just don't want to live my life like that. Since February has shown no signs of slowing down, these whirlwind weeks have been concentrated on slowly crossing off my Singapore to-do list and stumbling on even more treasures. My "foods to eat in Singapore" list is gaining more additions than I think I can fit in before April. To fully appreciate February here,  I spent hours in this bookstore sipping avocado shakes and reading cookbooks about Icelandic cuisine and the food in China and afternoons were wasted away eating coconut jelly, poolside.

But on thing that I'd been waiting months to do was visit Singapore's Cloud Dome. I'd heard good things about this place but always seemed to get distracted by the allure of something else. "You've got time" I'd think to myself and I penciled into this so-called cloud forest to yet another weekend in my future. But February was soon halfway over and I could excuse it no more. I like the Marina Bay Gardens area — Not so much the glitzy Louis Vuitton front, but the overlapping botany you can get lost in, only looking up to see alien trees above your head and a lit up ribcage-like structure on your left — the Cloud Dome. A ticket got me inside where the the blast of arctic air conditioning wasn't nearly as surprising as the thundering waterfall ten steps in front of me. A towering mountain wrapped thick with vegetation is encapsulated in to a glass dome where suspended platforms jut out from the side of said mountain, with meandering pathways on the ground level....All inside this glass structure.

Orchards and vines, leafy greens and carpets of undulating moss clung to the side of this massive mountain and only unfolded into more complex gardens as you went up by level. One section was constructed out of Legos, while another had a beautiful lily reflecting pool. Be sure to catch the misting times — opaque clouds swirl around the mountain and add an eerie glow to the waved platforms. It definitely earn it's "Singapore's Must Do" title — especially if you end the evening watching the light show at those alien trees and walking down the food street just down from the Double Helix Bridge. I got 2 iced Milos, and drank them both before I even reached the bus stop, so yes. I was happy...although 3 I think would have made me extra happy.

I See You, Malaysia.

We had loose plans for our last day in Malaysia- it was planned to be short trip and unfortunately had to stay that way, but I would have loved to stay longer. Still yawning from a late night eating all that Jonker Street had to offer, I started a lazy morning photographing the sleepy streets before we really got going. Metal racks held green coconuts ready to be trimmed and sipped, shops were still boarded up, giving the cats a porch to snooze on without fear of being interrupted by curious shoppers. 

The morning melted into early afternoon, marked only by the museums we slowly crossed off our list. The Dutch Square was first to be looked at; The historical influence and cultural was something I've been craving in Singapore. The cleanly paved walkways and English signs are convenient and modern, but I'd been missing that cultural signficance and general chaos I instantly associated with Asia. The things I love about this side of the world — the zooming motorbikes piled high with whole families, alleys crowded with vegetables and fruits for sale, tiny carts pulled by hand selling bowls of noodles and dumplings and ancient temples and relics hidden between buildings is completely erased from Singapore. Yes, Singapore is modern and urban, but to me that translates to sterile and lackluster..and certainly not the Asia I think of. That thriving busyness, crowded alleys of food streets and Dutch, French, Malaysian influence is thriving in Melaka and I was soaking it up. 

The afternoon quickly passed by as Malay wedding dresses, Arabic manuscripts, Vietnamese pottery and governmental homes were admired.  A leisurely lunch at a backpacking hostel (adorned with vintage wine and beer bottles, scribbled walls from past residents and dreamy French music) consisted of chilled cucumber juice and nasi (or rice) dish topped with a fried egg — in any country, I'm a sucker for a fried egg. Tented vendors tried to tempt us with rubber chickens, small stools painted with the logos of famous sports teams and businesses (loads of UK soccer teams and coffee shop slogans) and foot massage flip flops on our walk to the hostel but it was time to shove yesterday's clothes into our backpacks and walk the now bustling streets to find our departing bus terminal. The traffic back to Singapore was maddening- the 3 hour drive took a grand total of 9 hours due to Chinese New Year traffic; 30 rest stops stretched into an hour or so, where Laura and I ran around, spending our last remaining Ringgets on various cookies and chocolates to lift our spirits as the blue sky slowly turned inky black. A headache at customs (crowds will do that) and a bouncy bus ride brought us back into sleeping Singapore; I calmly queued up for a taxi (no need to shout or push on this side of the peninsula) and once home, flipped on my water heater, only to opt for a cold shower before bed. Malaysia exceeded all sorts of expectations and gave me that dose of culture I'd been missing — hopefully it'll last a few weeks...then I'll need to cross the border again. 

I Like Melaka.

When you've got the chance to hop on a bus and drive to another country, you take it. I think it's where I grew up that created this fascination to being able to drive to another country. I mean, sure, you could grab 30 hours worth of music and jaunt down to Mexico or go straight north for a few hours and make it to Canada from my home state; but for some reasons, Mexico and Canada doesn't seem as foreign as it would seem if you packed a basket full of bread and cheese for a picnic in neighboring Germany or France. So before I'd even left for Singapore in November, I knew I'd need to drive up to Malaysia. I just had to. 

That day came the weekend over Chinese New Year; I had day off work so my Latvian friend Laura and I got up bright and early to bus over to Melaka. Once we'd passed the Singapore border (a short bridge over the ocean, gone through customs, etc)  we left the glitzy high rise behind and entered into and into the oceans and oceans of palm trees which was Malaysia. A rest stop gave me a first taste of Malaysia which made me love it instantly; pineapple for around $0.20. The jungle soon transformed into the city, though not in the sense of Singapore.. Streets were fringed with run down homes, derelict yet painted in shades of bright turquoise and corals, tiny shops poked between foliage, selling bowls of noodles and cigarettes — it vaguely reminded me of India. The bus hub was busy and there was a fight for a cab. I knew I'd been in Singapore too long when I lined up for "my turn" at the taxi queue. In Singapore, you can't really hail a cab off the street — you find a taxi queue, and wait your turn in a very orderly fashion. Sometimes, there's even a type of official who ushers in the taxis and makes everything run quite smoothly. In Malaysia, you had to elbow your way past people and grab your driver first hand. But we got to our hostel A-OK and were eager to get out exploring the minute we dropped off our bags at the hostel. 

10/10 would recommend this hostel. 

Stop one was the oldest Chinese temple in Malaysia, where a sweet lady insisted we empty the bin of mandarin oranges into our bags; we obliged, of course. The dragon painted doorways and burning incense brought a wave of China nostalgia; I miss those temples. I quietly snapped a few pictures, watching a few locals worship and pray — it's always been something I've felt a little uncomfortable with, being able to create a place of worship like a tourist spot since no one seems to stop by my LDS chapel to pose in front and post onto Snapchat. But I digress. 

The river cruise was a suggestion made by our helpful hostel staff and we took them up on the offer — the boat ride gently guided us down a river that cut through fabulous mural walls, splashed with geometric patterns, depictions of dim sum and vivid faces — I really like wall murals, so yes, I really like Melaka. The cruise ended  just at sunset and the small city was thrown into darkness, which made things only that more fun. The crowds really came out, throes of people swarmed around these hilarious lit up rickshaws I couldn't stop photographing. Plush toys were zip-tied to create a backrest to the seats which were strung up with vibrant LED lights, complete with obnoxiously loud soundtracks that pumped out a beat you could hear for miles. I was partial to the Pokemon/Pikachu model. 

Not pictured: Frozen, Hello Kitty, and other Pokemon versions. 

The sea of people pushed us towards Jonker street; an alley we'd passed earlier in the day but wouldn't be able to recognize now. Tables lined the streets, piled high with vendors shouting out their wares. Oh, and the buzz of a hand mixer being shoved into an entire watermelon. Yep, you could buy a whole watermelon that had a small hole cut out of the top: a hand mixer had swirled the contents into a slushy juice you could just shove a straw into and drink away. It was fabulous. We squeezed our way through the insanely busy street, oogling at cheap electronics, knickknacks, old rusted coins, ornate tins, gadgets worthy of American Informercials and the food. 

We ate loads, sharing Taiwan Burgers (octopus sandwiched into 2 pancake like buns), rows of quail eggs lined up on skewers and dipped liberally in spicy sambal, fish ball dim sum, plastic containers of sushi, fried dumplings placed in translucent bags and stabbed with mega-toothpicks and coconut ice cream. I was stuffed, but couldn't resist the ice cream. It was scooped into a tiny pot, covered with Oreo crumbs and topped with a mint leaf. It was too cute to not eat. 

Asia, I love how cute your food is. 

Exhausted from all the eating and navigating the insane crowds that come with a good food street, it was time for a shower in our rad hostel — I didn't really appreciate it beforehand but I loved the exposed copper pipes and minimal design. I'm never too tired to appreciate things like exposed copper pipes. Despite the noise still blaring from the main road, I crashed — fully intent on getting a good night's rest before diving into another day in Melaka. 

A Saturday In Singapore's (Actual) Jungle

The shiny urban high rises of Singapore is something I think is a little lost on me. I have to remind myself to look up and appreciate some of the stunning architecture, because I'm normally rushing to find the hidden gems squeezed between these 40 story apartments. There is one exception; Some Saturdays I'll take the slow bus to the deserted city center; the city square normally swarming with fast talking business men and women having stern conversations and folding newspapers is completely empty. I'll pop in my headphones and wander the seemingly abandoned plazas, doused in shade by the towering buildings, scouting out geometry patterns in the concrete. 

Ah, but this weekend was different. It was time to explore Singapore's real jungle. Nestled at one end of the island, away from hustling MRT stops and crowded hawker centers is the MacRitchie Nature Reserve; an expanse of tangling vines, enormous umbrella like foliage that makes it hard for even the rain to pass through and tall towering trees, slightly reminiscent from the high rises that are only a few stops away. I hadn't realize how much I needed the time outside — Don't get me wrong, trying to find flea markets and walking from bakery to bakery in Tiong Bahru counts as being outside, but it's a completely different feeling when you are out in the forest. The hike in was nice, you slowly perforated the dense foliage, counting down until the next wooden sign told you how many more kilometers were left until you arrived at the treetop bridge. 

The bridge is pretty magical to walk across. A sturdy base and high railings were not the sort of things I found in China while waltzing across jungle tree tops; this is Singapore, so safety is one major concern and all safety instructions are clearly outlined in 4-5 languages. Ah, but I digress. I hadn't realized how much the din of the city had been weighing on me. I've taken to wearing an eye mask at night for bed because the illuminated high rises outside my windows don't power down until 3 or 4 in the morning. But that doesn't muffle the deafening blur of expensive race car engines that seem to zoom down my street at all hours of the day. Seeing butterflies flit in and out of the trees and even spotting monkeys from time to time was a nice break from the urban jungle I'd surprisingly gotten used to. 

Though, this guy was ready to pounce, thinking I'd reached into my bag for some snacks, rather than my camera. Not sure the picture was worth the risk. Though this may be Singapore, I bet these monkeys would still pounce on you for a bite of trail mix just like the ones in China. 

My Singlish "Home"

After a couple whirlwind weeks bowing with exaggerated "sawadekaaaaaaaahhhhhhs" (and an obscene amount of coco and Pad Thai) a jet lagged Christmas (and a 2 week period of wearing as many sweaters and scarfs as possible) it was time to be back in Singapore; my forever-88-degree-humidity-swathed-home for the next 3 months. It felt good to get back to wondering my bougainvillea fringed alleyways wedged between towering skyscrapers after Utah's cold. Being January, all of Singapore was getting ready for Chinese New Year, so my traditional haunts were now decked out in red lanterns while tiny shops selling red lidded bins of cookies popped up in unsuspecting places. Enormous and weighty globe-like pomelos (or 柚) were piled high on fruit carts and everything was plastered with some sort of drawing or poster of a rooster. The year of Monkey was coming to a close...made official in my book by the gigantic and rainbow painted inflatable rooster that was blown up to sit at the entrance of Singapore's Chinatown. It was both entertaining and terrifying. I mean, come on...how is a giant inflatable chicken at least a tiny bit terrifying?

I'd grown quite fond of all the Chinese New Year celebrations (and little stands) and was sad to see them go...but not before I made the trek down to Chinatown on the actual Eve to purchase yet another red-lid-bin of my favorite cookies. I'm partial to the pineapple tarts, but think I like the little buttery rounds topped with a cashew more. Let's just say the bin didn't make it to actual New Years Day. After the maddening crowd, the lantern hung streets, inflatable rooster and swarm of tourists, I had a quiet bus ride home in the dark to come home and finish up another episode of my current binge series (with those cashew cookies not far from reach). Call it a sort of coping mechanism for the crippling sense of nostalgia I always seem to get after a visit to Chinatown. Oh, I miss China.

As January whizzed by, time was also spent in what I've dubbed as Singpore's "Little Thailand" — as if the swirling melting pot of culture found on this tiny island needed another ethnic identity. I've been keeping an ear out for the trademark "Singlish" found here in Singapore — the official English has been infused with Malay, Indian, Chinese to create a tasty linguistic creole, much like my favorite dishes at the local hawker centers. I think I'm getting the hang of it. I've decided to spend my time off the glitzy shopping streets and in grocery stores instead. I particularly like wandering the aisles of the dimly florescent lamp lit grocery store in Little Thailand, examining teeny shrimps crammed into jars and seeing gnarly knobs of ginger waiting to be grated into some sort of curry. Little Thailand is about a 40 minute bus ride away, but I make the trek to get an avocado shake at my favorite place that sits just right across the pedestrian bridge. And yes, though it takes over and hour to get there and back, I did get a punch card for a free smoothie after 10 purchases at this favorite stand. I'm determined to go through at least 1 punch card (and realistically, two) before heading back home, home (the one in America). Too bad there isn't a punch card for this waffle-and-ice-cream monstrosity below. In all honesty, I had no problem polishing this off at around 10:00 AM. Waffles are breakfast, right?

It's probably a good thing there isn't a breakfast punch card for this waffle dessert, but I have found a new favorite way to start the day: Dragonfruit. I'll saunter down to the nearest wet market and pick up a couple of the deep purple, black seed studded, and Dr. Suess-like fruits along with a couple fresh pineapples and walk home to chop them both ; always chopping the pineapple first so the golden pieces aren't stained with streaks of modena purple. Tip into a bowl and drizzle liberally with thick and floral coconut milk. It's dreamy and I have more photographs of my repetitive breakfast than I care to admit. 

Between hours of editing and entertaining Pokemon obsessed kiddos, I tried to plan my Singapore excursions in such a way that I would avoid the deluge of rain that seems to happen on the daily. I will admit that at times, I did sit in my flannel and drinking pot-after-pot of tea, imagining the brooding gray skies didn't mean it was still 80-something degrees outside. Time this month (it's hard to consider January as January when free moments are spent sipping soursop by the pool in 80° weather) has evaporated. Sure, I flip through my sketchbook and see that forts were built, avocado smoothies were sipped, hawker centers were frequented, but where did time actually go? Surely it hasn't been a month down in Singapore quite yet — I feel as though I'd just arrived.

A Jetlagged Christmas.

The flight home was brutal. I hit Bangkok's airport around 3:00 AM, waited for my 9:00 flight to Singapore and bid a hasty "goodbye and I'll see you in Utah" to my sister and friends. I slept hard on the flight over and made the long trek from the airport to my Singapore home — I'd forgotten enough Sing. cash to call a cab, hence the longer trek via public transport from the apartment. I had barely 24 hours in Singapore before I'd be back at the Changi airport but I tried not to think about that. There was zero food in the apartment, so I ran down to the corner store in my unshowered state to get some dinner ingredients (and some plane food for tomorrow) — I was ravenous and should have bought more Pringles. After a looooong shower and a scattered dinner I went to bed. Early. Oh, and I completely crashed that night — sleeping so hard I snoozed straight through my alarm but did wake up in time to make my flight, don't worry...but I had the beginnings of a sore throat. You know that swollen burning you hope goes away by morning but doesn't? It persisted all the way through the Guangzhou airport, the 5 hour layover and through the longer 14 hour flight to LAX; I hadn't gotten much sleep and had that annoying breathy cough you can't shake (and a peppermint hot cocoa can't even soothe?) when I landed.  I spent my whole string of flights sucking hard caramels and wishing the time away before freezing on the platform once I made it to Utah; Temperature wise, I was in SLC, that's for sure.

The Christmas break didn't exactly go as planned: week one was basically spent hacking, trying to swallow copious amounts of tea and binge watching Christmas movies while trying to battle jet lag. Week 2 was better: a magical snow came Christmas Eve and the holidays were lovely, spent with family, twinkling Christmas lights, and lots of foods I'd missed while in Asia. The sisters and I got more than a few thrift shopping runs in (complete with a score of Ikea plates and a rad plaid) and there was lots of get togethers with good friends. Cheese plates, and cakes, and lots of Mexican food with excellent conversation. That's one of the "behind the scenes" aspects of this passport stamped life: I dislike the stress of being home for just a scant number of days, running from appointments and calendared lunch dates. I crave that normalcy of being able to just reschedule for next week instead of penciling in friends in my calendar- who does that? Oh, but I digress. It went all too quickly and I soon found myself repacking my carry on (it was mostly food...but really. I crammed a box of cereal in instead of packing an extra outfit) and made the stormy drive for a very early flight from SLC to LAX. There was a horrendous 17 hour layover in LAX which included a frustrated yours truly when my bags couldn't be checked. Thank heavens for a family friend who lives in this sunny state who was willing to lug my luggage around in her car and take me out for some beach time and Greek food before taking me back so I could make my flight to Shanghai. 6 more hours on a plane and I'd landed back in Singapore. I can't wait to get an avocado shake.

Singapore's Joss Sticks

I'd been feeling a little reminiscent of China being here in Singapore but couldn't really put my finger on it. Then it hit me; I'd recently spent months and months in a country that had thousands — thousands — of years of history. Weekends were filled exploring neighborhoods that were encircled with a city wall that had withstood dozens of attacks over the hundreds of years. Pagodas had been burned and rebuilt and burned and rebuilt again. Everything was so old, so ancient and so embedded with a sense of history. Singapore has many things, but it doesn't emit that cultural history like China does.

So imagine my delight when my church planned an activity to explore one of the only lasting arts this country has to its name; joss sticks. These incense sticks are commonly found in countries all over South East Asia, India and mainland China but underwent a transformation when brought to Singapore. This man's store front is found in one of the industrial neighborhoods, a cab dropped my off where I wove my way through storefronts crowded with engines to be repaired, furniture to be mended, and motorcycles to be fixed until I knew I was in there right place. Intricately carved six-foot tall incense sticks were sort of a dead giveaway.

Tay Guan Hong's workshop was dusty; various tools you'd expect and other you wouldn't, hung from various hooks and strings from the ceiling, where bags of a rich brown clay lay wrapped in a thick plastic. Various wire forms were halfway formed into a man carrying baskets of fish or about to artfully blow into a flute were strewn about, carefully drying and waiting until they were completed.

Tay did a careful demonstration and explanation of his craft; the clay he uses is simply ground cinnamon bark and water, that's it. This tradition has been in his family for generations, who brough and elaborated it from Mainland China. Tay carves various figurines, Christmas ornaments and gingerbread houses for the Christian population, and of course the enormous Joss Sticks. He used mostly his hands in the demonstration, and the only tools he did rely on can be found at any fast food spot. A straw helped him carve out details with a flick of his very experienced wrist. He carefully formed a hand, then snipped 5 fingers before deftly folding a thick pancake of clay into a beautifully draped sleeve and robe. It was ah-mazing to watch. 

I left still feeling nostalgic about China. I'm probably due for another lunch of tomato and eggs in Chinatown.

I Ate Tiong Bahru

I got an early start this Friday in an attempt to beat the Singaporean heat. The oppressive sauna like atmosphere was pressing down on me despite the early hour. Even at 8 AM, the thick air between the high rises felt like the world had just turned off a steaming shower but you can’t let that (or anything) stop you from getting a stellar breakfast. The 20 minutes on the metro spat me out in a glitzy mall (oh Singapore, how you love your malls) before I wandered down the quieter white washed apartments to Tiong Bahru; a trendy breakfasting districted peppered with art galleries and bookstores. If that isn’t the most perfect way to spend your morning, I don’t know what is. The street was just waking up, with people going to and fro grabbing coffee and groceries with friends before meandering to their next location.  My first stop was the Tiong Bahru food centre. Any location titled “food centre” has got to be promising. Like a layered cake, this place is well worth your time and attention. The bottom tier is lined with stalls chalk full of anything you could need on your grocery list. Eggs varying from pale brown to a deep and smoky black bookended stalls bursting with spiny durian and piles of oranges. Purple Japanese sweet potatoes poked out underneath bags of apples and bean sprouts. People were milling about, trying to press on the mangoes without the vendor looking to find the perfect little specimen. There’s also a meat counter; haggles and inquiries about price are punctuated with sharp *smacks* as meat cleavers cut down, separating scales and joints. That area smells less lovely, and isn’t as pretty as admiring radishes. 

In between the red Chinese lettering you can just make out "king of kings"... Durian shares a title with a pretty important figure, no? 

But the middle tier is where you want to spend most of your time. A dizzying ring of food vendors are all selling steaming bowls of laska, curries, roti, chicken and rice, carrot cake (which is nothing like the American version) and other classic dishes.  A cute little couple took my order of chilled sugar cane juice and kaya toast; I”m quickly loving the thick coconut custard spread on toasted bread…with substantial pats of butter sandwiched between the two slices. It’s the breakfast of champions, I’m telling you…though I wished I had gone with the barley-bitter iced Milo rather than the sugarcane; paired with toast, it was a sweet breakfast. 

Plural. Cats. I was so happy here. 

Tiong Bahru was just waking up as I made my way to the book stores where I found nirvana (after admiring the murals painted on the whitewashed store fronts of course). Books Actually is the most perfect bookstore I’ve ever set foot in. I should have known it was paradise; not only were the glass doors adorned with succulents, vintage maps of Singapore and a sign that said “please do not let our cats out”, a stenciled vending machine was parked outside giving patrons a chance to selected a mystery book. I never knew I needed a mystery book vending machine in my life until that exact moment. Inside, a bell tinkled gently as a warm welcome to perfection; books lined the floor to ceiling, stacked purposefully and organized in a way that encouraged meandering. You could admire the stacks on the shelves, or find your way over to the little note that sort of separated genre before getting distracted by the island of books that were stacked cover to cover…the room behind opened up into a space that claustrophobically shelved with second hand books, vintage tins and glass bottles and other quirky gifts. Oh, and cats. I didn’t dare get into trouble by pulling out my wallet; upon first impression I was tempted to buy it all. I’ll be back when I can muster some self restraint. I left feeling inspired to read more poetry, collect more postcards, shoot photos purely in black and white, and explore less traveled avenues.

Shout out to Hannah Wing; this place has your name written all over it 

Brunch hours had officially disappeared, leaving me guilt free to hop over to explore Chinatown. I had hoped it would be a mini version of the gems of China but alas, what Chinatown is exactly like China?  You just have to go see the real thing. While I didn’t stumble upon the old women I would  regularly buy cherries from in Nanjing or the boy who ran the front counter of my favorite noodle house, I did find some glimpses of China within the stalls. A lunch of tomato and eggs (an old favorite) gave me the energy to poke around the enormous warehouse like structure crammed full of everything you could want; clothes, tailors, old CD's, cooking supplies, incense, lanterns and other *necessities*. It's a dizzying collection and I could only wander for so long before setting my sites on seeing some of the cool and fancy hotels and bars and restaurants that site slightly overlooking the main drag of Chinatown. Plus, the lanterns that line the street there are so much prettier from higher up. Brightly painted alleyways created the backdrop to fancy gelato stores and expensive hair salons and some really cool street murals. I took the long way around and saw the Sri Marimman Temple and the Jamae Mosque; both of which I'll go inside of some other day. Today was for eating and there was no room to delay. 

I did quite a bit of walking to get there and had to grab a snack. Luckily in this country you are never too far away from a hawker center or food court. Maxwell's Food Center is one I'll be visiting again: for just a few cents you can get a thick pancake folded over a a sugary sweet crush of peanuts to make the most divine sort of snack. Top that off with some lychee juice (ice cold and served with a thick straw and a spoon so you can fish out the whole pitted fruit pieces at the bottom between sips of the sweet nectar) and buttery roti and you are in heaven. Top that off with a mango popsicle and you are ready to call it a day; only because you can't possibly snack any more or walk any further. I missed the downpour of rain just minutes after getting into the apartment and spent the rest of what remained of that day off my feet and wishing I had taken a bag of those pancake-peanut sandwiches home with me. While there are other places yet to see in Singapore, I do think I'll go back to sample the few foods I missed while munching on my day in the neighborhood of Tiong Bahru and Chinatown. 

Me and lucky cat, hanging out in Chinatown

Singapore’s Little India

Apparently, my *next* adventure until grown up life (you know, the one with car payments and succulent filled windows?) is Singapore. While living in China, I met a lovely family with 2 kids at the Nanjing LDS branch who need someone who could pick up and move their  life abroad without interrupting school or a career and hang out at their high rise for a few months…that person is me! And I couldn’t be more thrilled to be in Asia, though I did not miss the (long) flight — didn’t I just do this? The minute I landed in the Guangzhou, China airport, I’d been traveling some 20 plus hours but was just tickled to see those little orange juice squeezer vending machines. Oh China, how I’ve missed you. A short layover, then it was off to admire a jewel tone ocean and Malaysian coast out of my 3rd airplane window seat in the past 30 hours. I love you Asia, but you’re a beast to get to.

I’ve been in Singapore a week now, and have gotten pretty settled in. I adore the view from floor 17; you can just see the corner of 3 different swimming pools in between the geometric slats created by the towering apartments that dot the skyline. Singapore is a far cry from the adventures in China - the city’s shrouded in dense greenery pocketed by fancy hotels, high rise apartments and very ritzy shopping malls…at least, that’s the view from Orchard Lane (kitty corner to where I’m living). I’m all unpacked and got into the groove of working, taking afternoon breaks sipping Milo (South East Asia’s obsession - it’s basically a slightly more bitter, barley tasting chocolate milk. I love it.) while visiting the pool or going out with the kids until mom goes to work and I’ve got 3-4 hours to learn all I can about Pokemon while whipping up dinner. J., age 6, looooooooooves Pokemon.

While I rather like my weekday schedule, I’ve been itching to go out and do some exploring — and ever since I saw the “Little India” metro stop on my MRT app, I knew it would be adventure number one. I don’t nanny on Fridays, leaving me to get up early, snag a banana and Milo breakfast on my way out and take the 15 minute walk to ION, the ultra fancy shopping mall to catch the Metro. I say ultra fancy because this mall is bursting with stores like Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton, Christian Louboutin, Dolce & Gabanna and others I can only dream of buying knock offs from. Time in China made me a metro pro, the whole transferring/line/“passengers please alight on the left” slogan is pretty familiar, as were the streets of Little India. 

I stepped off the metro about an hour before the stands had really opened, but even that early, the oppressively humid air was thick with spices. Vendors were just opening up, but I imagine coriander and pepper corns were being toasted for the day’s curries and masalas, because the swirl of spice hits your nose while walking down the quiet and vibrantly painted avenues. It’s quite the combination paired with the flowery scent from the bright orange and yellow floral garlands sold near the temples. 

Not that there was time to kill, but I spent an easy 2 hours wandering the expansive “everything” store that is Mustafas. Imagine 6 floors of everything….everything!; luggage, shoes, reams of fabric, electronics, fresh fish on ice, stacked canned drinks with text in Hindi and Chinese and English and anything else you can think of. I spent my time poking around the floor-to-ceiling shelves, searching the aisles for…nothing, but isn’t that the fun of it? I’ve got plans to come back. Several times. 

After spending most of my time in the grocery section of Mustafas, it’s only natural I stumble across another grocery store, — though this I suppose would be classified more as a “wet market”. Stationed in some type of open warehouse, whole chickens (and other proteins with parents) hacked up on wooden blocks created the outer ring, while piles of fresh vegetables and fruits created the next layer of color. People were milling about, discussing prices in an assortment of languages while riffling through piles of prawns and pomegranates. Though fascinating to watch, the middle ring is the reason I’ll be coming back. It was as hot as a sauna, but the most interesting little food court I’ve seen — tiny stalls of primarily Indian (but a few favorite Chinese meals were present too) created a maze  advertising quite the lunch selection. Still being early, I opted for a thick mango nectar…but will go back for lunch (and the lychee tea). It's nice to know I can revisit my favorites in India by hopping over a couple metro stops, at least for the next few months.