Down Arab Street

I arrived on Arab Street at sunset, just in time for the melodic adhān which reverberated from the gold-domed mosque. The call to prayer echoed through the quiet streets filled with people shopping and smoking hookah. We struggled for almost an hour, looking for a good restaurant with a good price while trying to also extricate ourselves from the greedy grasp of enthusiastic vendors who claimed their purses cost $15 more than the last vendor only because theirs were truly Persian (as opposed to the cheap Chinese knock-offs supposedly sold by the vendors with more reasonable prices). Starved, we eventually settled on a Persian restaurant where I ordered Eggplant Marinara which should have been called Eggplant Paste. Before leaving for our trip, we were told that if we were unsure about something we tried in Singapore we should never call it, “gross,” but rather use a more generous term like, “interesting.” Needless to say Eggplant Paste is extremely interesting. 

The Sultan Mosque at dusk.

Inside the prayer hall.

Since my first visit to Arab Street, I’ve returned twice: once to learn about Malay culture and tour the mosque and again to shop the blog boutiques and buy perfume from Jamal Kazura Aromatics. I loved the mosque from the moment I first laid eyes on it: a beautiful example of Western-Middle Eastern-inspired architecture with large golden gates, rounded pentagonal windows trimmed with latticework, and a grand dome. But the inherent beauty of the mosque is lost until its story is shared: the mosque was built by the worshipers themselves with each person donating a small part to its construction, the poorest among them donating glass bottles, the ends of which were shaped into a dark ring circling the bottom of the dome.

The golden gates leading inside.

The view from inside the mosque, looking over a beautiful garden below.

We stopped by the Malay Heritage Center, a museum dedicated to the history of Malay Muslims living in Singapore (usually Malay is synonymous with Muslim in Singapore). It was closed for renovation, but even if it had been open, I doubt we would have gone inside. Or, rather I should say, I doubt we could have gone inside; several blondes (myself included) were accosted by a large group of Chinese tourists who wanted to take photographs with us. We took individual pictures, small group shots, and then posed with an entire wedding party. “Movie star, movie star!” they said as more people piled into the picture and cameras were swapped around.

When the photo shoot finally ended (maybe twenty minutes later), we continued down the Kampong Gelam district to an Islamic school founded by a rich Muslim family in the early 1900s. The school is a welcome alternative for many Muslims in Singapore as girls are not allowed to wear the tudung (more commonly referred to outside of Singapore as the hijab or head scarf) in the classroom, forcing Muslims to choose between religion and education. This Islamic school meets standard education requirements while also teaching Islamic values, preparing students for entrance to university while establishing their religious foundations.

My third (but certainly not my last) time on Arab Street, I finally had the chance to shop. I’d walked through Jamal Kazura Aromatics briefly during our second visit, but I hadn’t been able to buy anything as we would have been out all day and I didn’t want the bottle to break and sweet-smelling perfume to spill all over my purse. Originally I’d had my eyes set on a beautiful glass bulb-shaped bottle with looping gold floral designs, but moving farther into the store I came across the crystal collection and changed my mind. They dabbed me with what must have been sixty different floral perfumes and then they had to dab me all over again so I could narrow my choices. I left smelling as if the bottle had leaked not only all over my purse, but all over my clothes as well.

I also mentioned shopping in blog boutiques which are shops filled with clothes imported from countries like Taiwan and sold via blogs (as well as on location) at lower prices. We had a great time walking up narrow staircases leading to spacious flats filled with blaring florals and outrageous designs (like a pair of pants with pockets that flare like a skirt). We also found more promising prospects amongst the rows of hangers and tried quite a few dresses in search of the perfect party dress. No luck this time.

I plan to return to Arab Street. Several friends have told me that the best Mexican restaurant in Singapore is not too far away, and while I’m certainly not hankering for rice anytime soon, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the likes of refried beans!

The Chinese Gardens

Friday, June 3, 2011

Standing in front of the Chinese pagoda.

Friday we toured the Chinese and Japanese gardens, climbing to the top of a 7-story pagoda to enjoy the view below: statues of dynasty heros like Confucius and Mulan were hedged with greenery while dragons sculpted from bushes gnashed their teeth several lawns over. Each tier of the pagoda provided a slightly different version of the landscape. As we climbed higher the statues got smaller, the leaves on the treetops came into focus, and the pond in the Japanese garden was just visible. 

Flying a dragon is as much fun as it looks!

We enjoyed ice cream (in tropical flavors ranging from mango to durian, a fruit which tastes like a combination of strong onion and weak mango and is better left untouched) sandwiched between two thin wafers. As I polished off my last bite (I had the mango, not the durian), two high school girls approached and asked if they could interview me for their project about, “the smog problem in Indonesia.” I told them I didn’t know that there was a smog problem in Indonesia, and they said it didn’t matter, assuring me their questions were broad. I stumbled through the interview well enough and plan to research the Indonesian smog problem in the near future (in case I tour anymore Chinese gardens and get questioned about it). The girls didn’t ask for my name, so I can just imagine some of the rather derogatory titles they may choose to use in its place: “Ignorant American Unaware of Smog Problem,” or “American’s Knowledge Up in Smoke.”

Next we toured the garden’s turtle museum which featured, among others, lots of pig-nosed turtles (yes, they had snouts), an 82-year old Fortune turtle (yes, I made a wish), and a specimen claimed to be the most beautiful turtle in the world (yes, I agree, but no, I’m not sure how they judged).

I also got to hold a turtle (but not this one ... he's a bit heavy!).

The Japanese gardens were my favorite: red bridges arched over ponds filled with miles of lily pads and golden koi fish. A couple sat by the pond’s edge, peeling mangos and taking large bites, the juice dripping from their chins as they exclaimed over the view. We walked over a long white bridge, perfectly reflected in the rippling water below. If I studied at the National University of Singapore full-time, I’d definitely come here to study, or at least feign studying as I marveled at the garden’s simple beauty.

Prawn Eyes, Tortoise Shells, and Other Savory Items

Originally, I’d planned to post a daily blog. But, alas, I was over-ambitious. Almost two weeks have passed since I’ve arrived in Singapore, and as it would be nearly impossible to record my daily events, I will mince my descriptions. 

So far I’ve made two trips to Chinatown: the first for a sit-down dinner of live prawn tempura over fried rice and the second for some much-needed shopping. As Singapore’s population is made up of almost 75% Chinese, you can imagine the size of Chinatown. It swallows New York City’s Chinatown three times over and that’s before you add the gigantic shopping complex at the entrance. I found beautiful floral fans large enough to display on my wall back home and chopsticks with every design from fish to flowers to Hello Kitty (all of which I found necessary to buy). 

One of our most intriguing meals so far was at a sit-down Chinese restaurant (outside Chinatown) called Dian Xiao Er on Thursday night (June 2). As we arrived at the restaurant early, we were able to walk around the mall (the restaurant, like everything else from the metro to the hair salon to the grocery store is connected to the mall) beforehand, and we discovered that the mall was hosting an international sandcastle competition. From tiny granules sand artists sculpted kissing parrots, underwater sea creatures, an assortment of jewels, and, my favorite: a merlion which is a mythological creature with the head of a lion and the body of a mermaid. 

Kerri Nicole, Marquis Peacock, Gautum Sanka, Ananda Day, and I posing in front of a sand sculpture before dinner.

We returned to the restaurant at our reserved time and noticed a colorful sign welcoming our group inside. We were ushered into a back room lit with red lanterns where we were served plate after plate of every meat imaginable. If it swim, crawled, or flew, we tried it: duck, chicken, prawns, pork ribs, and white fish. And that was just the meat. We also enjoyed marinated vegetables and an assorted mushroom platter. I had particular difficulty with the sugar-glazed prawns. I have yet to master the art of de-shelling a shrimp with the tips of my chopsticks. Remembering my Vietnamese friend’s assertion that in Asia you can eat the shells, I popped the whole thing in my mouth, much to the surprise of everyone else at my table. I, too, was surprised when I realized I’d eaten the prawn’s eyes!

Our professors waiting outside the restaurant.

Then dessert came. “What could top the banquet we’d just enjoyed?” we wondered. I imagined a slice of cheesecake, chocolate mouse, or a bowl of ice cream. I would’ve even settled for a fortune cookie. Instead, we got turtle jelly. That’s right, the jelly was made from ground tortoise shells. After the meal I’d just enjoyed I couldn’t very well feign vegetarianism! I was stuck. We were instructed to pour honey on top to cut the bitter taste. Self-preservational skills called for equal amounts of honey and jelly. Looking around the room, we quickly surmised that the only people who’d managed to finish their bowls had lived in Singapore all their lives. One of our UNC professors later described the dessert as tasting like “delicious concrete.” I would only add that concrete is probably sweeter. 

"Dessert"

Day 1: The Sights and Tastes of Singapore

We arrived in Singapore in style. Never have I had a more luxurious plane ride. The flight attendants wore long blue or green floral dresses that skimmed the floor, chopsticks to hold their hair in soft buns atop their heads, and bright red lipstick to give us more the feel of being in glamorous Hollywood than on a mundane plane ride. They handed us menus which gave us the choice of meals like Veracruz style baked fish fillet with capers and pasta or creamy chicken and mushroom stew. And when they weren’t serving us dinner or an infinite selection of drinks, they came around with tightly rolled steaming towels to refresh us during the more than 21-hour flight from Houston to Moscow and then from Moscow to Singapore.

SEAS 2011 waiting in the Houston airport.

I later discovered that you can buy the flight attendants' dresses at several stores in Singapore, including the Singapore zoo. I didn't even bother looking at the price tag.

Our flight landed around 5:20 a.m. Tuesday (May 31st), and considering the 12-hour time difference between Singapore and North Carolina, you can imagine how tired we were when we arrived and how much more tired we were after a full day of sight-seeing! The first day passed like a whir. The highlights include: checking into our single dorm rooms (mine has a wall of windows with an excellent view of palm trees and campus housing), touring Har Paw Villa (an old outside art gallery featuring the Ten Gates of Hell along with more pleasant images), our first meal at a Hawker stand, and finally a mega walkathon hosted by our very own Hui Qian (a rising senior at the National University of Singapore, on-sight SEAS coordinator, and probable future wedding planner) who decided that although we’ll be in Southeast Asia for eight weeks and Singapore for six of those weeks, we had to see every local attraction on our very first day.

But before I go on, let me elaborate. When I first saw the gaudily painted statues outside Har Paw Villa I felt fairly certain I didn’t want look at tacky dioramas for the several hours we’d been allotted. However, upon entering the villa, I discovered that the gaudy entrance didn’t quite represent the entire park. In fact, after passing through the Ten Gates of Hell depicting bludgeoned corpses, scattered limbs, and enough gore to please even the most blood-thirsty among us, I realized that some of the scenery was quite beautiful. Brightly colored bridges crossed ponds leading to more colorful representations of shrines and pagodas. Mesmerized by the wall of dragons with flashing eyes and flickering tails, I snapped pictures until I finally got a few that almost did them justice. And, of course, the busts of several bearded men gained the attention of the seven boys on our trip who all had to try the beards on for themselves. Certainly the depictions of life were much better than of death. While we had wishing wells and bright colors to cheer us in life, in Hell all we had to look forward to were the repenting of our sins (where minor infractions like cheating on an exam or disrespecting your elders led to grandiose punishments like being sliced in half or having your heart torn out). 

Ashley Rivenbark, Toyosi Oyelowo, Olivia Hart, and I outside Haw Par Villa.

We walked to a nearby Hawker stand for lunch. Hawker stands are much like up-scale New York vendors in permanent stalls all under one roof. You still get the open-air feel because there aren’t any walls, but instead of overpriced hot dogs you get a wide selection of inexpensive Chinese, Indian, and Malay cuisine, and instead of a can of soda you can choose from a long list of freshly-squeezed fruit drinks. The only drawback to Hawker stands are the infinite choices which make it nearly impossible for you to decide what to order. For my first meal in Singapore I went to Ashmi Indian Food where I ordered chicken biryani (a long rice with chicken curry and absolutely divine!). Several of us had lunch with Hui Qian who bought a selection of fruit drinks for us to try: mango and watermelon juices as well as an avocado milkshake. 

Chicken biryani, my first meal in Singapore!

And then we embarked on a whirlwind walk through Singapore. We began with a tour of the 5-star hotels – economy style, meaning we walked to the front of each and ogled at the people walking inside. Then, in the case of the Fullerton we followed the guests inside and headed down a spiral staircase to the nearest bathroom, and, in the case of the Raffles which does not allow non-visitors even the chance of using its facilities, we admired the posh Mercedes taxi parked out front and then walked into the court yard to check out its mud room. Of the five-star bathrooms we visited on our first day, we were in pretty unanimous agreement that the Fullerton with its marble walls and large mirrors far out-shined the Raffles’ bathroom whose most interesting accessory were the square toilet seats. Still, to be fair, we only got a glimpse of the Raffles’ mud room. Certainly the guests who arrived in a Mercedes taxi had the use of more upscale facilities indoors. After all, Hui Qian told us that every notable author, including Rudyard Kipling and Joseph Conrad has stayed there. A few other guests include the less-well known and practically obscure: Queen Elizabeth II, Michael Jackson, and Beyoncé Knowles. To top off our hotel tour we enjoyed (from a distance – drat those guest-only rules!) a third hotel featuring two towers connected by a boat-like shaped pool on the roof designed to make it look like you’re going to fall off when you approach the edge.

Part 1 of our bathroom tour: inside the Fullerton.

Overlooking the patio at the Raffles.

Exhausted from our hotel excursion, we next visited the Esplanade, a performing arts center, complete with an art exhibition, open-air theater, and plenty of comfortable seats to rest our exhausted limbs. Perhaps most striking were the number of shops and eateries inside the Esplanade. You could easily make a day of the place, beginning with lunch at any number of restaurants serving everything from pizza to sushi. Then, after a theater matinée, you could indulge in a cookie from Mrs. Fields (easily one of the nicest cookie shops I’ve ever seen) or ice cream by Häagen-Dazs (where you sit in red leather chairs at a glass table top with fresh roses in the center). Then you can head to any number of boutiques to finish your Christmas shopping half a year early before heading to a posh Indian restaurant for dinner and drinks. The one exhibition I saw amongst the rows of boutiques and restaurants featured a yellow four-seater bike which the artist toured around African villages. In the center of the room sat the well-worn bike and on the walls photographs of all of its many riders. We hope to return to the Esplanade for a performance. Tickets are free on the weekends!

At the Esplanade.

Walking through the city we were surprised by the number of signs telling us what not to do and what would happen if we did it anyway. One underpass featured a sign instructing you to walk –  as opposed to ride – your bike through. The sign kindly informed you of a $1,000 fine if you failed to do so. When I say, “kindly,” I’m not being sarcastic. When we arrived in Singapore customs stuffed our passports with tiny white sheets warning us that drug trafficking equalled death. A $1,000 fine is quite nice considering alternative forms of punishment.

Too many signs to choose from. So many fines to avoid.

On our walk, we came across a statue of a Merlion facing a large body of water. Stopping for pictures a small kid, probably seven or eight years old, walked up to Toyosi, one of the students on the trip, and asked her where she was from. When he discovered she’s originally from Nigeria, he was crushed that she wasn’t carrying any African coins. He struck up quite a conversation, telling her that he’s a coin collector with money from 97 different countries. Nigeria would have made #98, he continued, sure to make her feel guilty. Then he met the rest of us and asked if any of us were from D.C. Again, our “no’s” elicited severe disappointment. But, when he asked if any of us had state quarters and I produced the Texas Lone Star, almost all was forgiven. He was so excited he even rushed back to his dad where he handed me a Chinese yuan for my trouble.

Posing in front of the merlion.

The day was also interspersed with trips to several mega malls which had enough stories to get Toyosi, Gautam, and I VERY lost – enough so that we asked to borrow someone’s cell phone to call our professors. The malls that we have visited remind me of the ones I frequented in Chile in that supermarkets, movie theaters, and parking decks are inside. Dinner was good if not confusing. I have no idea what I ate, but I had a most difficult time ordering it. Toyosi and I had someone else order our food, but when he ordered us a plate filled with massive amounts of every meat imaginable (Toyosi is a vegetarian), we had to turn it back in and request something else. When we finally got soup with noodles, a hard-boiled egg, and a menagerie of other spices, we were too hungry to really care what we were eating as long as it was good, and like most everything I’ve tried in Singapore so far, it was.

We returned to our dorm rooms exhausted and I don’t think many of us stayed up past 9 p.m. After all, I’d gotten up at 5:30 Sunday morning and didn’t get a full night’s rest (because a few hours on the plane here and there don’t really count) until Tuesday night (with the time change we skipped Monday almost completely). What a wonderful – if not exhausting – first day in Singapore!