Where I swallow my fortune in Singapore
Through LAX to the jewel of asia, Singapore, where friends meet, plans are made and fortunes swallowed.
This is a travel journal of our adventures in South East Asia. Trust a bunch of Newfoundlanders to find trouble no matter where they go! You can read the entries as we climb Mt. Kinabalu and explore some parts of Thailand. A month after we left, this entire region was devastated by the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 2004. We were very lucky to have witnessed life and adventure before that and our hearts go out to everyone in this journal who might have been affected. A gallery of photos from this trip is available on my photos site.
November 19, 2004, Los Angeles Airport (LAX)
En-route from Edmonton, Alberta to Singapore
I will never live in Los Angeles. I make this statement after only visiting the airport. Yikes!
Plus, this city stinks.
My friends Marc, Kraig, and I had a conversation just after they moved to Edmonton. Marc claimed Edmonton smelled bad. I must be immune or just accustomed to the smell, but LA definitely stinks.
Sigh. I’ve screwed up getting Chris Myrick his bottle of scotch. Oh, why on God’s green earth did I think LAX would be a modern airport with duty-free shops everywhere, clean hallways, and comfortable seats? Going from Vancouver International Terminal to LAX is like descending a staircase into some circle of hell!
And while I believe security should be tight, the lines here are insane. I once thought the lines at Walt Disney World were long—no longer. And at least there, you were joyfully pummeled by Mickey and Co. on a roller coaster.
If this is an outsider’s first impression of LA—wow. And I assume the haze outside is just rain. If that’s smog, I wonder why everyone isn’t wearing masks.
Crap.
November 21, 2004. Singapore
Arrived in Singapore via Taipei around noon local time. The plane decided to take an extended tour of the Changi Airport gates. Normally, not an issue, but after 24+ hours in airports and planes, I was about ready to snap off my seatbelt and somehow crawl through the porthole. Just as I was contemplating how to pry open the window, we docked. Probably a good thing. I also hadn’t quite figured out how to explain my lapse in sanity.
I love Singapore Airport. The immigration officials give you sweets, and it has a modern duty-free (take that, LAX) with Laphroaig. Chris will be happy. And, oh my lord, my luggage is here. I can honestly say this is the first international trip involving Air Canada where I haven’t been plotting their demise by the end. Could this finally be the end of my curse?
Out of the airport—how to find Chris and Lisa? A quick call, and a plan is set—I need to find a taxi.
Taxi Adventures
Twice today, taxis in Singapore have scared me. Twice, I—the most directionally challenged compared to (a) the driver and (b) the person who actually lives here—was forced to direct a taxi. The first attempt involved numerous calls to Chris and a map, which I used to guide the driver. Hmmm.
Arriving at Chris’ place, I found that Mike Mannion had already arrived safe and sound from Montreal. Chris and Lisa had been partying the night before with their dragon boat team. They were feeling “poorly.”
Despite video evidence to the contrary (which I maintain was doctored by Herr Dr. Mannion, Minister of Propaganda), the two forced me to down a fortune cookie and swallow my fortune. The bastards.
I wonder what my fortune said. Several suggestions included:
“This fortune is poisoned.”
“You will win a million dollars. Void if swallowed.”
Personally, I was more distraught at the thought of passing my fortune in the morning. What that means in karmic or cosmic terms, I’m unsure.
Exploring Singapore
After a shower and a shave—finally feeling human again—I made plans to meet my uncle and aunt for supper. Meanwhile, Mike, Chris, Lisa, and I went in search of vittles and drinks.
Singapore is definitely an expensive city, though public transport is very cheap. Mike put it best:
"Probably a great city to live in, not so fantastic for a tourist."
Despite Chris’ best efforts, he was unable to procure a large pink balloon after trying to convince the balloon-meister it was my birthday. Chris is doing his damnedest to embarrass me. The bastard.
After margaritas at Café Iguana (the house of a hundred tequilas—mmmmm), we went to see the closing dragon boat races. Chris and I limboed under a “Low Bridge.” Mike and Lisa were beginning to be embarrassed by us. I blame Chris. The bastard.
It was cool to see dragon boating in Asia, especially now that I’ve been involved in it in Canada. Chris and I turned into TV golf commentators:
Me: "Oh my, what a lovely stroke."
Chris: "Yes, aren’t they paddling together beautifully?"
Me: "Very well-timed indeed."
Chris: "Oh, that fifth person is kind of off..."
Me: "Will they pull it off?"
Chris: "Unsure—oh, here they go..."
After watching a few exquisite races, I was off and running to the MRT (Singapore’s underground) to get to my uncle’s place. Naturally, I embarrassed myself while trying to figure out how to insert my newly purchased MRT card into the turnstile. Turns out, you just touch the card to it. Sigh.
Family Time & Jet Lag
My uncle and aunt haven’t changed at all. Their son Malin, who was 10 the last time I saw him, is now 17 and taller than me. I barely recognized him. He’ll be in university next year. Yikes, I’m getting old.
A fantastic meal ensued, and then it was finally back to Chris’ place.
Nine hours after arriving in Singapore, the jet lag finally hit me on the MRT ride back. It was all I could do to keep from passing out. In fact, later—sitting on the floor playing with the cat—I did pass out. I woke up to giggling and Chris and Lisa tickling my feet.
Bastards. Well, actually not Lisa. Chris is a bastard.
Finally—sleep!