After casting it off and rejecting it reproachfully, we foolishly belittled the phenomenon that is jetlag as mere traveler's naysaying. As we trudged along the colourful scorching streets of Singapore's arab quarters, the realisation began to emerge; that it is in fact a tad more ghastly than we'd underestimated, not to be fooled with.
We were finally unleashed upon our air conditioned cell, sorry room (it's windowless), and accidentally slept until 7pm... Having caught many Z's, both epitomising youthful liveliness (honestly), we went to explore.
After much jolly leg wiggling, we collided with the commotion that was embroiling a large chunk of the city- the F1 Grand Prix. The atmosphere was electric; shadowed faces dotted the darkness like peeking into a gaping ants nest, all struggling over one another to catch a better glimpse of the zooming metal chunks. The sound was incredible- a powerful booming entity, bouncing off the humongous towering sky scrapers and reverberating within the evening's buzzing warmth. But enough with descriptive overindulgence. We then ventured onto one of the many outside diners for some north Indian grub. We delightedly munched on plantain prata (a light, fluffy bread) with curry sauce, and a chocolate "tissue" (the love child of a wafer biscuit and a pancake) all washed down with lychee juice. All for around a fiver. Happy times.
After repeatedly pummeling the snooze button into the early hours of the afternoon, we emerged, ready to discover the secrets of the still mysterious town. We galloped off via a tatty little market (chock full of local OAP's selling all manner unwanted and interesting toot) to explore little India ("little Italy" - as Sop called it). To our surprise it was pretty much exactly how we'd expect the real India to be, minus the cows.
We then stumbled upon our first feeding hole of the day and feasted on Coconut water, chicken biryani, a big old chunk of questionable white fish and the magic that is prata, all for the sultry price of around SG$18 (£9.00)...
A gaggle of taylors in the middle of the street of little India doing their thing... This area was was like a pungent sea of mustaches, curry, jewelry and incense.
Eventually, we voyaged onwards to the serene botanical gardens and marveled at all the tropical flora and fauna surrounding us. Squirrel munching on coconut!!
The local duck impersonators.
The evening was steaming hot (31 degrees), full to the brim with lively amblers, masochistic joggers and other snap happy tourists all punctuated by the humongous collective twinkle of the well lit marina bay gardens. .
We stood in the gardens and gawped at the majestic golden wonder that is the Marina bay sands hotel. Turning our noses up at the more financially endowed folk that dotted the 5* restaurants and infinity pool on the massive curved banana shape at the top.
The Marina bay area was a hive of late night shoppers, sustenance hunting tourists and locals, all out to indulge in the views of the incandescent skyline.
Having found a comfortable spot to sit we were taken by surprise when loud classical music boomed out, seemingly from nowhere and combined with illuminated fountain spray to form a clever, completely unexpected, light/water show on the river at Marina Bay.
Yep...it's a flower.
I can safely say Steve is keeping up with the food department on the travels. Its sounds wonderful!! That light thing is exceptional!!!
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