So Long Singapore

After six weeks in a country, how do you say good bye? I’d been asking myself this question all week as I revisited some of my favorite places for one last time. But I decided that for my final night in Singapore, I wanted to do something I hadn’t done before, something I’d always wanted to do. 

And so, I decided to go to the top of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel, a place I’d coveted since the start of my trip, and watch the sun set. This posh hotel charges $20 for such a luxury, but I didn’t mind, and neither did Gautam, a friend of mine from the program who accompanied me. We both brought our cameras and joked about bringing our bathing suits for a dip in the Sands’s rooftop infinity pool, but our $20 tickets didn’t include pool access, so ultimately we left them behind. And so we rode the elevator up 56 floors, our ears popping along the way, our smiles bursting with excitement. 

Looking over Marina Bay Sands.

“Oh, yeah, this view is worth $20,” Gautam said as soon as we stepped onto the rooftop.

He was right. We arrived some thirty minutes before sunset, giving us just enough time to admire the skyline in the last few moments of daylight. A gentle breeze blew over the observation deck. Even the harsh humidity didn’t seem so bad up there. I guess high prices can keep even humidity at bay.

And then the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a brilliant pink and purple glow over the city. Watching the sun set over the Singapore skyline provided the perfect venue for me to reminisce over the past six weeks. For as I looked over the railing, I saw all the places I’d traveled: the merlion fountain where we’d met a young boy who traded foreign currencies with us on our first day in Singapore, both of the five star hotels where we toured posh restroom facilities, the Asian Civilizations Museum where we’d admired ancient artwork, the honeycomb-shaped Esplanade theater where we’d watched a dance performance, the Singapore Flyer which we’d walked twelve blocks to only to discover that the price for the largest ferris wheel in the world was rather out of our budget, Glutons Bay where we’d eaten a lavish hawker center meal after the Marina Bay light show, and Bedok Reservoir where we’d cheered the National University of Singapore to victory at the Dragon Boat Festival.  

The Singapore Flyer lights up the night sky.

 After a while, Gautam and I walked over to the infinity pool. As luck would have it, the security guards didn’t ask to see our room keys (as they did with some of our other classmates later that evening), so we continued past and dipped our feet in the water, cursing our decision to leave our swim suits behind. We even walked across a platform in the center of the pool, approaching the edge where the water ran off, seemingly to the depths below. (In actuality, the pool was fenced in, and a swimmer would literally have to fling himself off the pool and then off another barrier before falling to his death.) I desperately wanted to lower myself into the water and look over the edge at the buildings which seemed to float atop the pool. Still, I contented myself with my standing view and felt lucky that no one questioned us about our strange choice of pool attire.

Standing in the Infinity Pool.

Looking out over the skyline.

At 8 p.m. we enjoyed a second viewing of the Marina Bay Sands light show, but this time from 56 stories above. “This is a Story About Water and Light.” The words flashed in a puff of smoke above the bay. The narrative went on to tell us that the entire show was composed of nothing but water and light. It was truly spectacular, complete with Las Vegas-style waterworks which spurted in streams of lavender and golden orange. The only thing missing was the classical composition, “Claire de Lune,” and you’d have had a replica of the final scene in Ocean’s Eleven when the thieves celebrate their accomplishments overlooking a shooting fountain. 

And then came Louis Armstrong (or his musical workings at least) and another couple of puffs of smoke later, sprouting flowers, crawling babies, and other cycle of life imagery flashed across the night sky. The show had been better from below where each of these scenes were more visible, but Louis’s voice was just as soft and soothing from above, and I enjoyed the new perspective height afforded me.

Enjoying the Marina Bay Sands light show from above.

We finally left around 8:30. Just as we were exiting the hotel, we noticed one of our professors walking through the door. We said, “hello,” and he invited us back inside. One of our professors’ Indian friends had invited our entire class to the top of the hotel for food and drinks. As Gautam’s flip-flops were against dress code, he took a taxi back to the dorms for a quick wardrobe change while I (who had worn a dress and sandals), returned from wince I’d come.

Enjoying the rooftop bar.

When I approached the bar, I dropped the name I’d been given and was escorted inside with VIP status. I was the first student to arrive, so I joined my other professor who was already enjoying a cocktail in the outdoors bar. Students slowly trickled in for the rooftop view. For the next few hours, we sipped cranberry juice and looked out over the observation deck at the glowing traffic crawling up the highway, inching past the Singapore Flyer turning in slow motion and flashing a thousand colors a second, and towards the bay basking in city lights. When the evening ended, our host presented us each with beautiful pink and red flowers and talked about the inspiration he was sure we’d find in India. He provided the transitional link between the two countries.

Carolina SEAS 2011 atop the Sands Hotel.

Only the ride home remained, and we had exactly thirty minutes before the metro shut down. When the clock struck twelve, the carriage would turn into a pumpkin, we’d lose our glass slippers, and we’d be walking home. It surely had been a magical evening and so a Cinderella ending couldn’t have been more appropriate. 

Before the carriage turns into a pumpkin.

Our fairy godmother must have been with us because as Toyosi, Mandy, and I (the brave three who risked a long walk to avoid cab fare) ran barefoot down the street to the metro station, we made perfect timing, boarding one of the last trains of the evening. When we left the metro station and boarded a late-running bus, they announced the very last train. Turns out we left our carriage before it turned into a pumpkin. And I made it home with both glass sandals.