When I was in Singapore, I almost forgot that I used to be a diet freak. The foods were marvelous and top-notch, and halal! I swallowed almost everything before me as if I had never been served with good foods. It was a vacation after all. For the record, I had nasi beriani ayam consecutively at three different restaurants. Besides, Nasi Padang was out-of-the-world delicious. Not to forget the superb ais kacang durian. To find this halal stuff in seemingly haram sects of the city was obnoxiously exhilarating.

I went to some unique places and tried to look for its definition of uniqueness. Arab Street had such inviting sights that enlightened the Malay part of me. Clarke Quay was amazingly hip and high with all sorts of excitements and wildness that pleased the searching soul for libido-fulfillment. Siloso Beach in Sentosa Island was fun but I found the beach artificial, unnatural and weird. It was more like a swimming pool where the water was a bit salty and muddy. Orchard Road shocked me with its grand line of Shopping Malls. But of all these places, there were two places worth highlighted since they successfully grabbed my utmost attention and wild imagination. More importantly, they truly make Singapore a unique country.


Chinatown

My travel-mate, Amar, and I settled in Chinatown for our accommodation. It was a budget backpacker’s inn which cost $18 per bed. It was more or less a hostel, which thrilled me since I had the chance to meet the other backpackers who savored the rainbows of Singapore. The owner, Ms. Sooi was so friendly and hospitable she didn’t mind if I used her washing machine for laundry. Just buy a soap from me which cost only 80 cent, she said. She was so helpful I wondered whether she got a secret plan to sell me to an agency catered for male prostitutes. But the hostel was so clean, safe and modern. The door itself was secured by a password which was regularly updated, and there was even a CCTV inside the room! Whoa, I was so impressed. Even a budgeted inn has a CCTV in Singapore. What a fine country.

There was a pub on the ground floor, just below the hostel. It belonged to Mr. Sooi as well. Amar and I had a wild conspiracy theory over this, that Mr. Sooi could be the middle-woman or something like that because there were few girls coming in and out of the rooms in the middle of the night. And there was a handsome-looking girl working for her. I took the liberty to wander around the pub when there was no customer. Erotic pictures mostly adoring nude women were hung everywhere. Rainbow flags were seen in many parts of the pub. Curious, I asked the handsome girl about the significance of the flags.

Gay Pride, she said.

Hmm.

But the most unique part of the town was its night market, where a concoction of wordly materials was laid to appease the senses of its passers-by who had enough dollars in the wallet. I could find here such an appealing cacophony which cultural and ethnic sight of China thrilled me with deep admiration for its splendid colours, sounds and smells. The splendor that I enjoyed here was probably reflected on my face when most of the taukes here spoke to me in Chinese.

“No, I am not Chinese. I am Siamese from Malaysia,” I told the Chinese auntie jokingly.
“Oh, why are you wearing that Chinese talisman around your neck?”
“This? Oh, I am a dragon. 1976. I can protect myself using this, can’t I?”

The auntie was smiling. She knew that, based on Chinese horoscope, I am a confidant director, a strong ally and a determined leader. For her friendliness, I bought from her a red shirt with a Chinese character meaning prosperity. One green Yin and Yang gemstone with a red lace caught my attention and I bought this too. My father would be shocked to death if he saw me wearing these unreligious materials. But the auntie foretold me even more that as a dragon, I could be a tough negotiator, a lover of romance, a pleasant storyteller, a holder of values, a sentimental with soft heart, and a supportive friend with vibrant personality. Wow. This cultural interpretation for me couldn’t be more tempting and alluring I felt more Chinese than the Chinese themselves.

The night around the town was quiet and safe. Amar and I could just sit and chitchat after midnight on a bench at Mosque Street without feeling guilty or arrested. I couldn’t imagine if we were doing this at Petaling Street or Jalan TAR in KL after midnight. Well, we could be easily slaughtered into pieces and worthy of the following morning’s breaking news headlines. But there we were, in Chinatown, merrily lazing around after midnight, wondering how in the name of heavan we could be so safe and protected in the Chinese area.

As I was trying to write a sign on the bench, something like “Cekmi and Amar were here”, I was hesitant and suddenly terrified of the possibilities of the existence of pre-crime department in Singaporean security system, just like that one in Minority Report. I didn’t want to be arrested for the crime I was about to commit, so I cancelled my mischievous plan. See? Even a newcomer like me knew how to behave in Singapore. I think this ingrained sense of you-are-being-watched-and-judged fear could be the fundamental for safer environment around the country. And I could feel this in Chinatown, and that makes this town really one of a kind.


Little India

The sight in Little India was, for me, the most awe-inspiring and unforgettable. The images of the mass with the same look and expression flocking and hurrying and rushing in massive groups all over the place kept haunting me. While Amar was walking fast and complaining about the possible danger that I was exposed to, I was busy downloading the incredible smells and sounds around me with such pleasure and joy. I just couldn’t believe that Singapore has reserved such an amazingly concentrated cultural place like this, the ‘ghetto’ that I had never imagined to exist and to be part of giant and concrete Singapore. This particular sight of Singapore was totally unexpected and this made me even more excited I could happily scream at people around me telling them that what a blessing to be part of this oddity and mirage.

“Come on, walk faster Cekmi! Terhegeh-hegeh.” Amar was getting more impatient with my incomprehensible elation. I smiled even more. I followed him into the Mustafa Centre. This shopping mall reminded me of Mydin Wholesale Store in KL. But it was richer and bigger in taste. The crowd inside was wild and crazy too. But I took pleasure in experiencing this culturally enriching circumstance which was less appreciated by many these days.

After shopping, we were out on the street again, and things became more hostile and disoriented. If you ask me why I still give this place a credit, I would say that I was just amused by the haphazardness and disharmony this place seemed to celebrate. Look, just take look at the way these people moved. They moved as if there was a war coming, that a nuclear bomb had just been dropped. If TV3 has been so proud of generating the chaos in its Jom Heboh campaigns, this place was 10 times heboh than those carnivals. At times, I felt like I was in the middle of public riots. Rubbish was freely disposed. Cars kept honking at each other. Things seemed to flutter in all directions. Is this really Singapore, I kept asking myself.

As I kept torturing my senses, I saw giant advertisements written in Tamil or Urdu, I was not sure. There were also posters of Hollywood celebrities hung with pride on many buildings. At that moment, I wished I could bump into Shah Rukh Khan or pretty Aishwarya Rai, but they were definitely not to be seen in this area, or else they would be more pandemonium, and killing and bombing and all that. But the whole atmosphere was superbly Indian. It was as if I was in the Big India. Oh, no wonder this place was called Little India. But this Little India was definitely not so little compared to our own Jalan Masjid India in KL. Aha, Jalan Masjid India – how I always cherish myself being there, enjoying myself, walking along the street while humming the songs from Dil To Pagal Hai or Mohabbatein. So, this obsession with Jalan Masjid India could well explain my hallucination with Little India in Singapore.

Oh my God, how I love Chinatown and Little India. The Hundred Secret Senses of them. The Colourful Cultures of them. It was truly a wonderful feeling.

And these make Singapore truly unique.

Thanks Kak Lun for your kindnesses ;-)

Labels: cekmi's inspiring adventures