right, where were we?

11 april 2008 (continued…)

so we walk, and walk, and walk, and walk. and eventually (after “just a few minutes” in my dad’s parlance and “absolutely bloody forever” in mine) we reach our bus stop. my feet are on fire. i get the same (attractive!) effect i got in new york, from loadsa flying plus loadsa walking: ankles like watermelons. i do not want to walk any more.

luckily, i did not have to. we sat at the bus stop and studied our timetable and map. our singapore airlines-provided hop-on, hop-off bus would arrive in twenty-five minutes. okay. we sat, and we watched the traffic: cars, buses, and the occasional rickshaw. my favourite was the man on his bike… smoking a pipe.

finally, our bus came.

here my memory has a major lapse, and my notes fail me: i’m not sure where we went first, or what we did when we got there. presumably, it was something good, as everything was running smoothly (at this point). but after we had been to this mysterious place, we hopped back on our bus to go to chinatown. and came into contact with the rudest bus driver ev-ah (singapore airlines ruining their reputation, again!)

this bus is supposed to be free for people on stopovers with singapore airlines, or $3 if you’re on holiday with singapore airlines. despite my being on a stopover, our new driver decided arbitrarily that i had to pay $3. because i had an electronic ticket, i think. (i wondered afterwards if he could read?) he was quite hysterical, grabbing my arm and shouting, “ma’am you are not on a stopover just ‘cos you come to singapore! holiday is not a stopover!” he stopped the bus and showed me a green boarding pass some other people had - i did not have one, therefore i was a dirty liar, was the implication. not wanting to cause any further commotion over a $3 fare, we paid, but seethed a bit. then we went to chinatown.  

in chinatown, we walked through the outdoor markets, looked at some of the ornate temples, were blasted by the incredible heat (and rained on a bit as well) and i saw the biggest/scariest terodactyl-sized bug in the world, which made me scream and run around and shriek “it’s not on me, is it?!” which is always fun.

then went to a “hawker centre”, a kind of pre-food court food court, with the tables crammed in and around the stalls. hectic, cramped, not the cleanest place in the world… but cheap. i had something called hainanese chicken: plain boiled chicken with rice, basically, plus a coke to pep me up. then i used the toilet, which i had to pay for. there were big red flies in my stall with me, and i ‘went’ as quickly as i ever have in my life. *shudder*

i know some people love authenticity and realness when they travel but i love posh hotels, starbucks and homogeneity. what can i say? i’m culturally corrupt and morally bereft, and i like it that way.

we then walked to a shopping centre and looked at some technology (they had lots of littletiny notebook computers, and i wanted one), before catching our bus back. or trying to.

it was twenty minutes late (or ten minutes early, and the previous one was missing), and guess who the driver was? this time, with our $3 tickets, we were free from persecution. but not to worry: some other tourists were being persecuted instead! the driver from hades stopped the bus again to have an argument with an older english couple, who he said weren’t on a stopover either (and yet they were). unlike us, they just refused to pay. “sue me,” the older man said, “you’ll lose.” we bonded with them and their friends about how none of us wanted to fly singapore airlines ever again.

thankful at least that we could relax for a while, we sank back into our seats, planning on staying on until the place we got on, and having a nice look round singapore on the way. but when we got to the botanical gardens, the driver announced “everyone alight and wait for next bus! EVERYONE ALIGHT!”

so we had to alight and join the people who were already waiting for the next bus - which equalled more than one busful in total. everyone looked unimpressed. we got a taxi back to the hotel in the end. i checked in, napped, we had a meal at the hotel and we both had an early night. it had been a heck of a 24 hours.

12 april 2008

today we did something really cool: went on the singapore flyer. it was excellent - much better organised than the london eye, and 30 metres taller, too. we saw pretty much the whole of singapore, including a new ‘floating’ football pitch - not sure how that will work, but fun all the same - and all the construction for a massive new casino/hotel complex. apparently the chinese are mad-keen gamblers. who knew?

the sky was bright blue, the sun was out, it was a gorgeous day, hardly a cloud in the sky… perfect weather to see the city. and then five minutes after we got off the flyer, there was thunder, lightning and torrential rain for the next two hours. we sat around and waited for the weather to abate a bit, but it didn’t, so we headed off to the legendary raffles hotel, my grandad’s stomping ground just after world war two. and the home of the singapore sling cocktail.

as our taxi pulled up, a man in ornate indian (colonial esque, very un-pc) costume came forward with a huge umbrella, and ushered us inside. i could get used to that! the interior is so gorgeous, with chandeliers and plush carpets and really lovely architecture. then you walk around the back and there are loads of shops. pretty, pretty shops.

we went to an upstairs bar and had singapore slings (let’s not mention the price) and an intense heart-to-heart. as ya do. then we trolled around the complex a bit more (was still raining) and headed to orchard road, the main shopping district: one long, long, longlong row of high-street shops, designer shops, and huge mall after huge mall. it’s a shoppers paradise, but not a place to find bargains. i went into a tiffany shop for the first time, but didn’t/couldn’t indulge.

we had hot chocolates outside a cafe and watched the frenetic world go by, and i didn’t want to leave.

13 april 2008

no rain today, for the first time this trip. hotter than hell, though. we went to jurong bird park, which was fab.

there are some birds (varieties of toucan mostly), who make a nest and then the woman barricades herself in until the eggs hatch - for months on end, she never leaves and the man has to bring her food. but if anything (like death) happens to him, she is is faithful and will never accept food from another suitor… and then she and her babies die. plus, there’s a bird called “mad woman bird” because it behaves erratically. erm, patriarchy much?

we saw some non-sexist displays too, like beautiful flamingos, and we fed the lorikeets, which snatched a feeding bowl right out of my dad’s hands, to my amusement.

we had something to eat and i had much fun in the gift shop (my dad, not so much) before heading back to the hotel to soak my book and read my feet. or something like that.

i don’t think i’ll be winning a travel blogging award anytime soon: it’s five weeks today since i left home, and i’ve blogged about my travels exactly once (and i hadn’t even got on the plane at the end of it).

i have however, been keeping a travel diary - with a notepad and pen and everything. i’ve decided that the best way to share it with you is to write posts which include a few days at a time (that way, i might have finished by next october). i’ll continue writing other posts (when i have time) in between the travel ones and i will edit my diary entries somewhat so that i’m finished before christmas.

i hope you enjoy them - either way they will be a useful keepsake when i’m 90 and can’t remember my foreign adventures… let’s start at the beginning, with my arrival in singapore (aka: the molten centre of the earth).

travel log, part one

10 april 2008

on the plane to singapore:

very impressed with self, as my theory of seat booking was correct. i wanted an aisle seat, so chose a row where only the window seat had been reserved. the middle seat would be a last-resort booking for anyone, right? right - huzzah! no-one was in the seat next to me, so i could spread out with my stuff instead of having to duck under my seat to get things.

the man in the window seat was either a big drinker or a nervous flyer, or both: he consumed at least three gin and tonics and three glasses of wine, then promptly fell asleep (and! as far as i can tell, he didn’t, um, “go” once…) as i can never sleep on a flight, i watched lots of stuff on the seat-back screen: ’til death, 30 rock, rules of engagement, back to you, pushing daisies and two eps of sex and the city. i also saw most of a julie delpy film (which i didn’t like much) and juno (which i will be writing another post about soon).

i wished i had my laptop, my carmex and my meg cabot, but i coped.

11 april 2008

before i knew it (okay, it was a long time, and long overdue, but i’m skipping ahead now) we were landing in singapore. the pilot announced it was 26 degrees celsius. “that’s not too hot,” i thought. then i realised: it’s half past five in the morning. after disembarking, i had a short wait at customs and a shorter wait at the baggage carousel, before hefting my heavy suitcase over to the exit, where my dad stood, in his sheffield united t-shirt and shorts. hugs ensued.

stepping out of the airport, i couldn’t believe the heat. it doesn’t creep up on you but blasts you like a thump to the face. we dived into a taxi and twenty minutes later we were at our hotel in little india. everything looked - unsurprisingly! - indian, which was weird for a city whose main occupants are of chinese origin.

back at the hotel, it was about 6.30 AM, and i wasn’t feeling my best. my room wasn’t ready yet, so my dad went for breakfast while i showered and had a snooze. then i dressed, my dad came back, and i acted like i was ready to sight-see, despite feeling like i’d been run over…

it’s two weeks today since i left the UK and my overseas adventure began badly (always the worst way for something to begin, in my opinion) when i attempted to check in.

despite packing and re-packing my suitcases more times than anyone has ever packed anything, anywhere, singapore airlines said that i was over their baggage allowance, and would have to pay seventy five great british pounds per flight (ie. a minimum of 300 quids) if i wanted to continue. [in retrospect: totally would have been worth it. anyway…]

so the woman at the desk tells me she’ll have to call her supervisor over, like i’m trying to smuggle drugs or something, and this very snooty older woman marches over. totally irrelevantly, she points at my mum, who is standing outside the queue, with another suitcase in the same colour, and says, “and i presume you’ll be wanting to take that one as well?”

er, no. if i was taking that one, wouldn’t i be taking it to the check-in desk?

“no, that’s my mum’s suitcase.”

“but YOU WANT TO TAKE IT? i presume.”

“no.”

she looks disgusted, and turns to the woman behind the desk, and they have a discussion about how many kg my luggage can weigh. they weigh everything, including my rucksack, which contains my laptop, and is “right on” 7kg. then the woman behind the desk says i can have 27kg total without having to pay anything.

“altogether? everything?” i ask her. YES, she tells me. “but don’t put anything into your rucksack, as that’s seven exactly.”

i trundle my cases away, and my mum looks agog and aghast to see me back with cases in tow.

luckily, i had a back-up plan for this eventuality. i would simply jettison (my new fave word) everything i could. and so the jettisoning begins! i realise the heaviest problem is my CASES themselves, which are sturdy and beautiful (with their 360 degree revolving wheels, and bright purple plumage) but basically dead weights.

so i  shove everything i can from my small case into the larger one and my rucksack, jettisoning my (new! sob!) laptop and its heavy cords in the process. i get rid of my umbrella and some books, and one whole toiletry bag. it still makes me ache to think about the spectacle. it was panic, pandemonium, and totally humiliating having all my stuff bared for everyone to look at. (and boy, did they want to look at it - thanks for staring! that helped.) i’m still sad i couldn’t bring meg cabot, or jennifer weiner, or joshilyn jackson. basically, all my reading plans went down the drain. and my packing, carefully planned over months, degenerated into a last minute shove-fest. it was no way to begin a three-month trip abroad. i was tired and sweaty and stressed out, my mum and i were snapping at each other non-stop, and i was losing a lot of my home comforts. not fun.

but i finally finish, and go to the scales in the corner, and weigh all my stuff, including my rucksack. it all comes to 26.3 kg. hurrah! i go back to the desk and the woman says, “just one suitcase this time?”

“yes, i realised the main problem before was that my cases themselves are really heavy.”

“oh.” ever the conversationalist, this one.

she weighs my case. “oh it’s really light! you can have up to 27 kilos, and this is only 21 now.”

“no, you said everything, including my carry on, had to be 27.”

“no, i said your cases.” she gives me the smarmiest, most condescending look ev-ah.

mumbling NO YOU BLOODY DID NOT, I HATE YOU ALL i go back to my even more agog and aghast mother. “what now?” she says.

we shovel some more - mainly clothes - back into my big case til it’s almost at bursting point.

now, helpfully, the scales have broken  so i can’t check the weight. i’m not sure whether to re-consider taking my laptop or some books or even the other case. i know the singapore airlines website says 20kg, not 27kg is the limit for cases, so am not sure if i’ll get charged when i fly to perth from singapore. and i have less than an hour before my flight starts boarding and the queue for security has just expanded tenfold.

i decide to accept that it’s all gone to pot, cut my losses, cry briefly (i’ve now gone totally hypoglcaemic having been up since 4.30 and not eaten a thing) and roll over to check in one final time, talking to the woman at the desk through gritted teeth.

“you sure you don’t want to take any more?” she asks me, amazed, and with great restraint, i smile and shake my head.

so - there you have it, my simple three-million point check-in process is complete and i feel like crap. we head to the horrible terminal two cafe (manchester, get your act together, this place is expensive and dirty, and there aren’t enough seats), flop down and i consume my standard airport breakfast: half a chocolate chip muffin and a diet coke. it’s hard when you’re shaking, though.

after sitting down for about four minutes, there’s just time to hug my mum before i dash off through security, where there’s a huge queue, to calm my nerves. i feel fraught and on the brink of tears. i just have time to find my gate and use the loo (tmi?) before my plane begins to board - i don’t even sit down at the departure gate or have a second to catch my breath. i realise how lucky i was the last time i flew alone: i checked in smoothly, had plenty of time to spare, didn’t queue for security, bought a book and mooched around.

oh well, at least i’ve learned two lessons:

1. pack hardly anything for any trip in future (or stay at home, it’s safer).

2. singapore airlines are a bunch of snooty snootsters. (yes, that is a word).

oh well. i’m on my way at least - at last. things have to get better from here on in… don’t they? 

…down on blahdiblah drive!*

or even xxxx avenue**

i’ve been having some “adjusting to a new time zone/house/country” ups and downs - mainly involving jet lag to be honest - and have plans most of the weekend, then have to start doing some work (yes! in a foreign country!) next week.

but i have been keeping a (sporadic) diary, and plan to update a bit more, a bit soon. hope you’re all bearing up in the meantime - i hear there’s been snow! none here, just sun.

(and rain, thunder and lightning…)

* what is that lyric? i’ve never known.

** got to keep stalkers at bay.

this week, i am off to australia, via manchester and singapore. which means that i’m rushing around today getting organised, working all day (and i do mean aaaaaaaaaaaaaall day) tomorrow and rushing around again on tuesday. but i’m not complaining! although i can’t help wondering why, however far in advance i plan, there’s always so much to do at the last minute? an extra week to prep would be perfect.

anyway… this is my last post before i go mad. i just wanted to thank you all for reading during this time of lean blogging (that knicker story was good value though, no?) and let you know i will be updating from oz, i’m just not sure when or how much. i still have some writing assignments to finish while i’m there, but i’ll be making sure to have time off to relax. (i’m so in need of a holiday that i can’t wait for the 12 hour plane journey, ‘cos there’s no way anyone can email or phone me about anything! plus i’m dying to use one of those chair-back TV screens for the first time).

what i will definitely be doing is continue to twitter. (in case you’re still not sure what that means, it’s micro-blogging - telling the world (or just your friends if you activate privacy settings) what you’re up to in 140 characters or less. it’s fun, and a looooooot quicker than blogging. you can catch up with my “tweets” (twitter updates) here or in that red “what am i doing” box in the sidebar to the right>>>. and if you join, we can totally be twitter friends!

speaking of tweeting, i wanted to capture the weather when i woke up this morning: the ground and trees were covered in snow, the sky bright blue. so i opened my window and snapped some shots. i could see movement at the bird feeder but as i’m shortsighted, i couldn’t see what was there, and so just zoomed in and snapped blindly away.

on a total fluke, i captured this, which i think is the perfect “bye-bye, britain!” parting shot: