WELCOME TO SINGAPORE, says the landing card that the flight attendant tosses on the seat next to mine - nothing personal, it's not like he doesn't like me, this is just the way people 'hand' things to each other here.

I take the card, on the left side, in the bottom corner, in smaller font, but in red so it attracts attention, another message: DEATH TO DRUG SMUGGLERS.
It is not an idle threat, drug smugglers here are regularly imprisoned for very long periods of time, executions happen too, only about a month before my visit a 25-year-old Australian was hanged for trying to smuggle heroin.
The plane lands at five in the morning, the airport is almost deserted, but the vital institutions are open, the money exchange, the tourist information, and some sort of a fast food joint are available and there are customers.
I sail through passport and customs controls, I was a little apprehensive as I am travelling on a hand-written temporary passport, but apart from the customary 'is it your first visit to Singapore?' the officer hardly even looks at me.
The metro towards downtown starts soon, but it leaves from another terminal. There is a shuttle mini-train that can take me there, but it starts at six, and I have 40 minutes till then, so I decide to walk, it's only about 600 metres.
I approach an automatic door that will let me out of the terminal, it opens with a quiet hiss, I step outside and I am literally hit by a wall of stifling, hot, humid air. When I left Shanghai a few hours prior it was raining and the temperature was about 5 degrees above zero, here in Singapore it's way above 30, and the humidity, while similarly high, is suffocating.
There's no way in hell I am going to walk, not with both of my backpacks (a month later when I return home I weigh them, the camera pack is 10 kilograms, and the main clothes-and-travel-essentials another 12...).
I return to the terminal, go to the toilet and change into shorts and a t-shirt, then sit down and wait for the shuttle.
I get to the metro station nearest my hotel around seven. It is still dark, but I decide to start walking. I have a map, more or less showing me which way I should go, and so, trusting my sense of direction and my map reading skills I head out.
Soon, however, I get completely lost, the map I have only shows the major streets, not the smaller ones. I know I am in the right neighbourhood, I find Joochiat Avenue, Joochiat Lane, and Joochiat Place, but not Joochiat Road where my hotel was supposed to be.
Finally, as the day starts, and it's starting to get warmer, I stop a taxi.
Joochiat Road, the driver asks, but it's just right there... he makes a 'that-a-way' gesture. I know, I answer, but I've been walking for an hour and I can't find it.
Three minutes later the car stops in front of the hotel; I let the reception staff know that I've arrived, leave my big backpack and head back out.
This time without any problems I find the metro station (when I left it an hour earlier I should have started walking right, not left), and go downtown, to Little India.
I arrive around nine, the shops and restaurants are only now slowly starting to open. I walk around, take around 60 pictures, every now and again stop to rest, the heat is already killing me, from time to time I have to remind myself that I'm in Singapore, and it's 'social conduct' rules can be strict - I am a little paranoid about that, to be frank - and I can't, for instance, cross the streets wherever I want, I can't smoke on the street, etc, etc, etc.
Actually, the rules have slackened somewhat in recent years, but still I see signs like, 'no smoking, 500$ fine, no urinating (not that I would), 200$ fine, no food or drinks allowed, 10,000,000$ fine,' etc... That last amount is an exaggeration, of course.
I call my friend, and at noon we meet at the China Town metro station.
China Town disappoints, it's crowded to capacity, loud, busy, garish.
After a quick walk we hide in a food court, for lunch.
Food courts are one of the more pleasant aspects of visiting Singapore. They are cheap eateries, featuring all sorts of food, Indian, Malaysian, Indonesian, soups, rice or noodle dishes, vegetarian, seafood, dried or fried meats, everything. They can be found everywhere, near most metro stations, busy but clean, usually air-conditioned (a huge huge plus), and, as I said, cheap.
After lunch we take the metro to Orchard Station and go to a Starbucks for some iced-coffee and a session of, ehem, people watching.
OK, I fess up - checking out women who are walking by...
Iced coffee, loaded with sugar, too much of it actually, and a pleasant chat, catching up on the most recent developments in my friend's and mine lives.
I am, however, fading fast, I slept only a few hours the previous night on the plane, plus the strength-sapping heat takes its toll, and a couple of hour later I return to my hotel.
I take a shower, set the air-conditioning to the coldest possible setting and around eight in the evening I fall asleep.
The following morning I go to the financial district. It's very different from Little India or China Town, fewer people, business attire is prevalent, more Caucasians, steel and glass buildings, office towers.
I walk around, along Singapore River, then towards Esplanade - Theatres on the Bay, known to local expats as 'the Durians' because they resemble that, fairly tasty, but incredibly stinking fruit.
After a short rest I continue, I want to walk across the Esplanade Bridge, when two Japanese tourists stop me and ask if I'd be so nice as to take a picture of them both (using their camera).
I have no problems with being nice and do what I am asked. I hand the camera back, the women turn to go, and then, from nowhere, a tall, lanky Indian guy materializes next to me. He's wearing a shirt with a tie, a beige turban, has a mobile phone, looks quite respectable, really.
You are a good man, he says in heavily-accented English, you helped a stranger. A lot of good luck will find you, but you have to help it too...
Heheh, I know what this is about, but don't want to be rude. Not yet, anyway.
The guy starts his speech, I half-listen, half-look around and try to find a suitable moment to break the stream of words and leave.
He is telling me about how he can help me with becoming lucky, something about magic, to prove that he is indeed telling the truth, he takes a piece of paper and a pen from his shirt pocket, writes something, folds the paper, says, take a number, from one to three. I choose a number, then he says, choose a flower, a carnation, a lily, or a rose. I choose the rose. Then one more choice like this, he unfolds the paper, I got two of the three right.
Then he takes what looks like a dried peach stone, wraps it in a piece of paper, and, starting to refer to it as 'precious stone,' he places it in my hand, and, again, starting to talk to me in third person singular says:
If he is a rich man, he will give me a thousand dollars (Singapore dollars - e), if he is a medium rich man, he will give me 500 dollars, if he is a poor man, he will give me a hundred dollars.
(Lost his mind from the heat, I guess, or must think I am really stupid, a thousand Sing-dollars is a LOT of money, I'd never ever give that kind of money to 'help my luck' - unless it was a solid investment advice, for instance.)
Don't know how to classify myself, but I say, haha, I don't do that, here's your stone back.
The man looks at me like I did something terrible to him. Fifty dollars. I say, no, I don't do that, I don't just give money to people.
Just enough to get something to eat.
Nah...
I start across the bridge and notice an older man getting some strange fishing equipment ready, so I stop to watch.
The Indian guy walks past me, he looks at me and mumbles something.
I watch the old man toss the contraption off the bridge, wait for a minute or two, and then move on. I spend some time near the statue of Merlion, a weird half-lion half-fish, apparently a symbol of Singapore. walk around it, sit down for another break.
I continue my walk, past the City Hall and the building of the Supreme Court, I am thinking of the encounter with the Indian guy, composing in my head the email I will write in the evening. It goes something like that:.. I said no, and gave the 'stone' back. The guy wasn't too happy with me, mumbled a curse of some sort, so if I die a gruesome death, strangled at night by a walking corpse, well, that is why.
A minute later it turns out that the curse was far more immediate than I imagined, a bird craps on my head and shoulders... Strangely, there are no 'no dumping on tourists, 1000S$ fine' signs anywhere...
I clean myself up as well as I can (and god bless the person who invented wet-wipes, by the way), and leave the dangerous area.
I buy a bus ticket to Melaka in Malaysia - I wanted to go to the east coast, but because it is the monsoon season there aren't any buses heading in that direction - and then meet my friend for another coffee-drinking session.
In the afternoon it starts to rain, a true torrential rain that chases everyone off the streets and halts traffic. It lasts about an hour, as soon as the rain stops the streets fill up with people again, and the busy life in Singapore goes back to normal.
On the last full day of my stay in Singapore I take care of some outstanding travel-related matters, change money, write a number of quick emails, buy souvenirs, and then I meet up with my friend again, and go to a bird park in the western part of the island. It takes forever to get there, the heat is unbearable, but the outing turns out to be very interesting and productive (pictures here). After another long bus/metro ride we come back to the centre of the city and go for dinner, unlike the previous two days, when we went to different food courts, we celebrate our meeting (I haven't seen my friend for over half a year before coming to Singapore, and will not see him for a long time afterwards), and my upcoming departure and start of the holiday proper, by going to the local branch of Hooters.
The dinner is OK, apart from very annoying American kids (term used loosely); around 20-year-olds, loud, obnoxious, half-drunk.
After dinner, when we go back towards the metro station, we find an 'upside-down' bungee jump. Three American sailors (a US Navy ship is in port), are getting strapped into a capsule, the cords are pulled tight, then the capsule shoots up into the air...
Screams, shouts, maniacal laughter, I haven't tried bungee jumping before (it's on my to-do list, but the place in Shanghai I was going to go to is closed, apparently, due to a fatal accident that noone seems to be able to confirm/deny), it must be a bit scary, but a lot of fun too.
I say good-bye to my friend, return to my hotel, pack, and fall asleep. The following morning, very early, I leave, get to a parking lot somewhere in Kampong Glam district, and board a bus to Melaka in Malaysia.
An hour later I arrive at a border check-point, again go through it with a minimal waste of time, no one asks me about money needed for the trip, no one checks or x-rays my bags.
Myself and a handful of other passengers hop on the bus again, and ride across the causeway to Geylang Patah on the Malaysian side of the strait.
Three days in Singapore - The End.
04.2006