Singing Poorly

Arrival in Singapore off an airline where the standard seems to be airbrushed stewardesses and class separation. No complaints. Just spent two months sweating and working for free, so that vacation feeling dawns even just from sitting on the plane. Heavy mileage and a long flight. Mainly spent sleeping, punctuated with being shook awake and force-fed either rice porridge or fish stew. Can't eat the dessert, too sweet. Good orange juice though. San Francisco-Taipei-Singapore, taking the best part of 24 hours off the life, but rewarding me with a change in destination that will no doubt help me replace those 24 hours and more.

First impressions of Singapore are of cleanliness, then wondering how many people are employed just to keep this scrubbed looking metropolis so clean. There isn't even dust on the side of the blvd. coming in. It's almost creepy, but the tropical foliage distracts like a peacock throwing up it's tail in your face. Seriously there are palms that look exactly like that. Enter main city, blown away by the architectural prowess whoever planned this place seems to have. It's an organic mass of concrete and glass, writhing and twisting, spewing up jagged edges and impossible angles. Being in construction here is clearly a lucrative trade, as it seems like every few blocks something is being ripped up and made anew. Shuttle bus winds between colonial monstrosities and cutting edge future buildings, ranging from pods to structures that have been bent in acutely disturbing but visually pleasing ways.

Stop at hostel. Reunion with trouble. Trouble says hi, everyone. Decide to stock up on some supplies. Mustafa center it is. This place is a disturbed cavern of lost Chinese toys and other useless goods. Like everything I've never wanted was thrust into a black hole and then organized in sections. We manage to get a Sim card and a stick of glue, despite around an hour of searching for tons of other stuff. Eventually we just take off, drop some stuff at the hostel and decide to placate the tummies. Biryani, recommended by a New York chef by means of a crappy TV show about stopovers on planes. Biryani is alright. The best part by far is the rice. Aged two years and kept extremely dry so that it gains optimal length during cooking. Really fragrant basmati. Everything else is imminently forgettable, though a mango lassi helps kill the humidity which is wilting our tables papadam.

After lunch a march around little India yields the news that a cricket match is on. You can tell because the streets outside cafes are packed with the local folk craning their necks to watch a tiny TV set and generally blocking traffic. Couple beers on an ex-pat bar patio later and night has fallen, taking us for a whirlwind tour through the myriad cramped lanes that make up the Indian center of Singapore. There are so many men that descriptions become a pale reminder of exactly what was occurring. It was like a famous Bollywood star threw a massive concert in India, but only men were allowed to attend. Still flummoxed about how this could possibly occur. After such a saturation you would naturally expect some of the men to stay wherever the women are, but I guess not.

Spot some goat brains on a local menu. Try to order them, sold out. Two options; goat brains are delicious and sold out, or hard to get delivered so run out. Disappointment reigns. Chicken masala just isn't as exciting. Wake up early the next day. No sleep for Trouble because of "the Foghorn Whisperer" in the bed above him. Snoring is a peculiar affliction that everyone in my family besides yours truly embraces with gusto. The house of my childhood's foundations were proven sturdy every night by a sonic assault from the second story. Slept fine. Early on after breakfast we wander off to Golden Mile, hit a hawker food center. Have some horrible fried garbage (enoki mushrooms, banana and taro). Slightly more acceptable is Nasi Goreng, though still not the mind blowing hawker food I'm expecting. Upstairs is army surplus, knives become personal possessions, some bug spray, maybe some trinkets. Long hot walk to Marina Bay Sands, wreathed in sweat and quick scurrying for shadows or cold drinks. See the merlion statue, probably the worlds dumbest monument, but at least it's good for a laugh. Enter the palace of opulence that is Marina Bay Sands. Preposterous architecture, wasted space and money everywhere. Go up to skypark for free, using tricks from online aggregation sites. Generally rock the view. Leave for Chinatown. Eat the world.

Durian pancakes are questionable but tolerable. Avocado milkshakes. Upstairs for soup dumplings rolled to order and legendary noodles from an awesome smiley dude and his wife. Cannot stress the excellence and craftsmanship here. The guy was obviously really enjoying himself, and our attention. His wife was really nice and accommodating and they seemed to genuinely enjoy the food they put out. Couldn't ask for a better hawker food stall experience.

Video to follow. Excuse the shakiness, random breaks and turning sideways. It's the first attempt. Will improve. Dissappointing black pepper crab before calling it a night.

From the Archives : Pig Head

Self Explanatory

From the archives: Chocolatiering.

With the most talented and wildly homosexual Justin Rogers of clove chocolatiers.

South East Asia

As I reinvigorate this decrepit and slowly dust-filling void of internet space, I figure I should take a few seconds to split the current adventure from the last. For those of you who know me or pay attention to my general whereabout, I'm now in Singapore, living the life of food and travel once again. My travel partner on this current endeavor is another of my many friends of questionable motives and ambitions who will be accompanying me through thick and thin, jungles and deserts, and generally trying to enjoy himself while being constantly afflicted with the randomness that comes along with my orbital space. Follow us here for the ridiculous adventures, the food, the chancy escapes and general escapades that we'll undoubtedly encounter whilst feverishly trying to become Asian despots or (plan b) consensual emperors of the entirety of Asia.