SG24 – Day 0 Transit

July to September is the worst. Southern hemisphere winter, the cold, wet, dark, and no public holidays as far as the eye can see. Get up in darkness, go to work, go home and by the time the dog is walked it’s dark again.

Five hours away sits Singapore, that Disneyland with the death penalty, lit up brighter than every xmas tree, where there’s almost always 12 hours of daylight, and while it might be wet, at least it’s warm. It’s a land where some happiness is guaranteed: just join any queue for food that has 10 locals; or take in an evening dram or three at the Auld Alliance or Swan Song Bar. There’s even a weekly Saturday night drag show hosted by Becca D’Bus.

So that’s what I’m gonna do. Join every queue for food that I can, sip the finest whisky I can afford, see the lights, hear the sounds, smell the scents, and have a long weekend. Kick off the winter blues.

I’ve also got crab on my mind, chilli crab, Singapore’s other other other national dish (though I’ve also had a couple of people tell me I need to try pepper crab too, and read about a place that does amazing crab bee hoon). I’ve spent weeks asking folks, googling, reading reviews and blogs and, to be perfectly honest, waded through some rather underwhelming excuses for online travel writing (and you, dear reader, thought slowlyandloudly was bad). I’ve forgotten so much of what I read, but I’ve come away with two things: it’s going to be expensive, and it’s going to be good.

I’m also going to try some porridge. Being honest, to date porridge/congee wouldn’t rate in my top 100 favourite foods, maybe not even top 1000. Let’s look at the entry in my guide to food: taste – bland, texture – meh, aroma – double meh, comment – who decided that putting chunks of fish into watery rice pudding was a good idea? Basically the only thing whiter that my description of porridge is the porridge itself. But I want to challenge that, acknowledge that I never grew up with this food, never formed the bond in my infancy, never sought comfort from the congee bowl, and see if I can develop an appreciation for it. I’ve saved lists of Singapore’s best dealers, and I’m willing to give it a go. I will try the bowl, and the huge range of accompaniments and condiments that come with it. If, at the end of this, I vow to go to my grave without rice porridge ever passing my lips again, I’ll know that the problem lies with me.

Other side quests include looking for some reasonably priced electronics, checking out some of the Night Festival, checking out parts of Singapore not yet visited, and miscellaneous shopping.

The adventure starts, as per usual, with the quest for parking. Not cheap, but still cheaper than taking a taxi or rideshare. Suggestion to airport authorities: if you towed and sold off every car parked illegally in the long term parking, you could just about make parking free for the rest of us.

Parked, shuttle bussed, checked in, security checked. Now in that wonderful limbo called transit, the land of the wait. I’m flying solo, and it’s a point-earning mission, so there are no lounges, champagne on arrival, lie-flat seats, priority boarding, or business class comfort packs on this trip. It’s the back of the bus for me, just like the drag queen. (I believe the correct Singlish response to this is “Limpeh I clap for you”.)

Now, on with the quest.