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. 

Lunching in the Muslim Quarter.

If you are a fan of reading my blog (I think I am the only one who falls in that category), you’ve read posts and posts about various markets and food streets. I’m not sure “farmer’s markets” counts as a hobby, but if it does, add it to my list. That being said, when I go abroad one of the first criteria for experiencing a new city is to explore their food streets. Xi’an made that easy; their Muslim Quarter is fabulous. I was counting down the days to see the Terracotta Warriors, but I was also ticking down the hours until dinner. I had hopes the area would be reminiscent of the Muslim Quarter housed in the Old City of Jerusalem, but hopes of that sort of similarity were pleasantly dashed upon arrival. The streets are lined with shops selling characteristic souvenirs, while huge rounds of a yellow “cake” glistened with persimmons are artfully carved into geometric triangles next to entire carcasses being butchered into kabobs. It’s a lot to take in. 

It looks like cake, but it's not. How's that for disappointment? 

Both Wednesday evening and the majority of Thursday were spent in the Quarter, giving me plenty of time to attempt to take in all the sites, smells, and tastes. Wednesday’s meal consisted of a bowl of thick and cumbersome noodles piled high with a melody of pickled potatoes, zucchini and what I think were radishes, and the entirety of Thursday’s afternoon was filled with snacks from the swarm of vendors that are sprinkled down each street. Spicy cheyenne fried potatoes pair nicely with Xi’an thick yogurt, but avoid the little bread cakes stamped with Chinese Characters sold for 1 yuan…It’s similar to eating a dry salt cake mixed with a flour paste. Not my favorite bite from the Muslim street, to be sure. 

Aren't walnuts beautiful? 

Because of the heat, several Yuans were spent on ice cream and yogurt bars as we poked into the alleyways and did some shopping before visiting Gan Gao’s courtyard for a shadow puppet show. Despite not understanding word of dialogue, the intricate puppets were mesmerizing to watch…and the show made a good intermission between noshing on the edible goodies waiting outside. Another yogurt bar was purchased before sitting down on the hot steps to watch dusk settle over the massive Bell Tower that marks the entrance to the Muslim Quarter; swarms of birds were replaced by bats that swirled by the structure’s rafters while people milled around the shops that towline the square. It was a dreamy end to a lovely day of squealing over rounds of puffed pita and beautifully piled goose eggs…made even more perfect by snagging a spear of cool cantaloupe from a fruit vendor on my walk back to the hostel. 

Eggs in cartons are a rare sight in China; my favorite way they are transported is in a massive crate
precariously situated at the feet of whomever is driving the motor scooter. 

The Venice of China.

Dubbed "The Venice of China," Suzhou is just a short ride by bullet train from Nanjing...But why save time when you can save money by taking a K train? Unlike their faster counterparts, K trains are bombarded by youths who make quite the racket despite the early hour. Crowded, smoke filled, and loud; exactly how a vacation should start. Sarcasm aside, the 2 days in Suzhou was delightful. Saturday and Sunday were spent on the beautiful canals, gazing up at a building that looks like a pair of pants, eating steamed bread that looked like penguins, and perusing various markets. Food, architecture and alleyways: that's exactly how a weekend should start.

Not quite Italy, but close. 

Serendipitously, right after we had gotten off a city bus trying to make it to the PanMen gardens, a lovely lady named Ivy invited us to lunch and drove us through the windy alleyways to the garden. She had seen us trying to figure out where we were on a massive city map and asked if we would like a ride to the park instead of walking. She mentioned she needed to get lunch for friends before leaving, ordered us noodles, then had us all eat lunch up in her office that overlooked the city. We then all piled into her car and got to PanMen in record time. Suzhou was quickly earning some serious points; people can be so incredibly kind. The park itself was beautiful; white washed and black tiled hip and gabled roofs peeked out between pagodas, willow lined canals, and dreamy bonsai forests. To top it off, an art installment had beautiful glass orbs that chimed between vibrantly colored paper windmills, creating a quiet swirl of sounds when the breeze flitted through the trees. Naturally, it was an ideal place to take a nap.

Little motorcycles zip along the city stopping to sell the most beautiful fruit. 

Maybe it was the crooning lullaby our boats-woman had sung during our canal ride, but all four of us were beat despite it being early afternoon so we cuddled up on the banks of the canals and snoozed a bit before walking down the haphazard streets to our next bus stop. I don't use the term haphazard lightly; the roads are a honking maze of mopeds swerving between private cars a busses while this particular street had shops with knee high stacks of dishes out front or burlap sacks piled high with cayenne, black tea, cinnamon sticks and other spices. I loved it.

Forget buying dishing off the rack. 

And that's exactly how the rest of the weekend went; kind strangers riding segways pointed us to various gardens, markets, other food streets or alleys crammed full with succulents and parrots. I'm not kidding; Suzhou is home to a "bird and flower market" which means a terrifying combination that's reminiscent of an overcrowded and outdoor Petsmart and the abandoned garden section of your local Home Depot. It's an assault on the senses to be sure.

There are the loudest chirping crickets ever in this little clasped containers. 

I've yet to make it to Italy's Venice, but China's version certainly offered some aspects I'm sure aren't found in Europe. Sipping a coconut milk tea down the canals with an 'everything bagel' -esque round of bread made by one of the prominent Muslim eateries is one major difference- that and  being pleasantly bombarded by high school students who need to take pictures with foreigners for a homework assignment. Suzhou was unpredictable and beautiful; the characteristics of a weekend in China.

A Snack of Scorpions.

I’d heard of the famed food markets of China and had been waiting to put my money where my mouth was and order up a skewer of scorpions. 

Scorpions and seahorses aplenty. 

I’d visited plenty of food streets in China thus far, but Beijing’s Wangfujing street had a collection of creepy crawlies I hadn’t had the pleasure of tasting yet. We had all eaten a delightful and delicious breakfast at a farmer’s home after climbing off the Great Wall of China meaning my stomach wasn’t exactly empty when we arrived at the bustling and lantern adorned street. Right at the entrance, a booth adorned with skewers of seahorses, rows of glistening grasshoppers, and topped off with a bouquet of little scorpions. Neighboring booths were selling potato skewers, towers of Beijing yogurt, sugared strawberries stacked 12 high and other goodies, but I was on a mission; I wanted a eat a scorpion. 

Yum. 

It’s something you have to decide before ducking down the busy street because your courage will falter when you see the critters in real life, waiting to be munched and crunched. 

The tiny desert dwelling snacks were everywhere; vendors got a kick out of shoving live scorpions glued onto sticks in our faces and were pursued the street, trying to muster up the courage. 2 other girls and myself split the cost of a skewer of 3, each carefully sliding off the slightly greasy critter off it’s thin, wooden prison and took the time to muster up courage and to take a multitude of pictures. At the count of three, the scorpions were quickly shoved into apprehensive mouths, stinger and all. 

 

The faces sort of say it all: disgust, amusement, and general confusion. 

I had low expectations for this thrill-filled snack; it was crunchy, greasy, and tasted like the singe of burnt hair. The whole thing crunched around in my mouth before being washed down with a healthy gulp of water and a few caramelized strawberries. I hadn’t known what the aftertaste would be like, and wanted a juicy burst of sweet to wash out any sort of scorpion residue before finding an actual meal among the booths. While it is not the worst thing I have ever eaten, I don’t see myself dishing up seconds anytime soon. 

Not pictured: the skewer of strawberries purchased immediately after the scorpions.