what's a travelgirl to do in... singapore?

eat, play, shop

how I fell in love with the cleanest, safest, most exciting city in the world

 

“In Singapore, we do three things,” my new BFF Naseem Huseni is telling me over a bowl of spicy noodles and a surprisingly elegant Australian Shiraz. “We work, we eat, and we shop. And we tend to do all three a lot.” Not that I harbor any doubts, but I need to see for myself whether this legendary gateway city, smack-dab in the middle of Malaysia, Indonesia, Southeast Asia and Oceania, really offers the best 36 hours of eating, drinking, sightseeing and shopping to be found on the planet. After all, I live in New York, not exactly chopped liver when it comes to food, work and bling."

And the Clock Starts… Now!

 

Like countless other travelgirls (and guys), I have chosen to overnight in Singapore, nickname “Spore,” on my way home from somewhere else. There’s no extra charge, and it seems like a fun way to break up 30 hours in the air. Naseem is a certified Singapore tour guide, and by stroke of luck, we have the same taste in pretty much everything. So we start our adventure on a balmy Wednesday night in June with dinner at the White Rabbit restaurant in Dempsey Hill.

You’d never guess that trendy Dempsey Hill used to be a British military recruitment center in the 1960s. These days it’s a nightlife destination, home to 18 blocks of bars and restaurants. The White Rabbit is a standout. A converted church, it has 40-foot vaulted ceilings and playful touches inside and out, including an animal-themed topiary garden, all inspired by Lewis Carroll’s famous book. But what comes out of the kitchen is serious business. The chef is one of many rising Spore stars with Asian and Western training. My veggie noodle dish is packed with flavors I can’t readily identify (lemongrass? exotic peppers?). We pass on signature dishes such as the mac-n-cheese with truffle sauce, choosing to keep it light, since this is just Meal One of goodness knows how many.

Eating in Singapore isn’t something one does merely for sustenance. It’s a hobby, a passion, a thrice-daily event. Interestingly, Singaporeans’ obsession with food is rivaled only by their obsession with thinness. There are literally thousands of eateries in this tiny nation that occupies some 200-plus square miles (about two-thirds the size of New York City). Because food is so plentiful, cheap and readily available, few people bother to cook. Any day of the week, you can have Malay (also the predominant ethnic group), Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Mideastern, Mediterranean, Dutch, French, Italian, fast food or pizza. And, as I will soon learn, street vendors, Spore’s famous food hawkers, are the most popular of all.

The clock chimes 9, and it’s time to explore one of the city’s busiest attractions, the Night Safari. (For the record, Singapore has the distinction of being an island, a city and a country.) At first I balk: Surely a “Night Safari” in the heart of the city is going to be some cheesy tourist trap. But no! Every night from 7:30 to midnight, the place is a buzzing Benetton ad sprung to life, with young and old milling shoulder-to-shoulder around the 40 hectares (about 100 acres) of dense secondary forest. We walk quietly under the dim lighting, designed to recreate the jungle at night, until Naseem suggests we take the two-mile tram ride that loops through “Himalayan” foothills and grassy “African” savannahs. I don’t care how old you are or how many stamps you have in your passport: seeing the likes of leopards, giraffes, elephants and hyenas in their natural habitats is always a thrill.

Pump Up the Jam

Singapore lights up at night, literally. The whole city feels like a gigantic Times Square. There are so many things to do and see that it’s dizzying. To get the big picture, we head for the top of the Equinox Complex, to the New Asia Bar, the love child of a Hollywood movie set and a Tokyo nightclub. Singapore girls are glammed up in skimpy dresses and skyscraper heels. The seats are plush, and the room is dark except for neon lights, the glow of a monumental chandelier, and the glitter from a, yes, disco ball. The music is heart-stoppingly loud. The cocktail menu rivals War and Peace for word count. And the panoramic views from 70 floors up are priceless.
From the “Crushed and Muddled” section of the Frisbee-shaped drink menu I order something with Patron, Absolut Citron and kumquats (no, really), sink deeply into my chair and struggle to talk between beats. The famous Singapore Flyer (Ferris wheel) dominates the cityscape, but Naseem also points out casinos being built, the esplanade for cultural events, five-star hotels and a shopping center with a rooftop pool. There are more than 60 islands off Spore, and many great beaches. And plenty of outdoor tracks and parks to walk, run, cycle, skate and do Pilates and yoga al fresco. Too tired to dance, we finish our drinks and head home for the six hours sleep we’ve allotted ourselves, believing like so many ardent travelers that we’ll sleep when we’re dead

.

Not Dead Yet

Nine a.m. finds us in Little India, and shopping is very much on the morning agenda — but not before breakfast.
(Singaporeans don’t greet one another by asking, “How are you?” but with the question, “Have you eaten?”) We sit down to a traditional South Indian meal of thosai (or dosai, huge triangular lentil crepes stuffed with spicy potatoes); vadai, “a delicious fried thing” per my notes; iddli dumplings with coconut chutney and a lot of strong kopi (coffee). A huge tray of food for two: $6.50.

Wandering the clean streets, Naseem explains how the city came to be such a melting pot. In the 14th century this island, then called Temasek, was a busy trading center for Chinese, Indians, Malays, Arabs and Europeans. Legend has it that a seafaring prince landed here, saw a creature that looked like a lion in the harbor and named the city Singa Pura, or “Lion City.” Hundreds of years later, in 1819, a principal of the British East India Company, Sir Stamford Raffles, recognized this crossroads as an opportunity to create an international trading post and bought the land from the local kings. He invited different ethnic groups to come and establish their own businesses — without the pesky burden of taxation. Raffles built it, they came, and 190 years later, Singapore is a vibrant modern city of nearly five million people from dozens of cultures.

Little India is a tapestry of sights (fabrics, clothing, temples, jewelry, rugs, brassware, garlands, deities), smells (spices, fruits, curries, flowers, incense) and sounds (sitars, tablas, pop tunes, shouting shopkeepers, honking trucks). It feels like a true Indian village minus the cows.

I buy some bangles and a blouse but skip the henna tattoo and the psychic reading from a parrot.
We walk on to Kampong Glam, or Village of the Gelam trees, once the seat of Malay royalty. History, culture, religion, food and shopping mash up in another dizzying kaleidoscope of sights, sounds and smells. We visit the stunning Sultan Mosque (donning a full robe upon entering), and window-shop our way to Arab Street, a charming collection of carpet shops, wearables, statues, carvings, food, oils, fabric and art. I am drawn to the ornate windows of a Muslim perfumerie, and the agreeable salesman indulges my need to nose every vial in the place. I finally settle on a delicate rose, which he pours into the tiniest bottle and secures the top for its long trip home to NYC.

In this low-rise district, the buildings are as impressive as the wares. Filling street after colorfully painted street are two-story “shop houses,” where for the past 150 years the merchants have lived upstairs while conducting business below. It’s been more than three whole hours without food, so clearly it’s time for lunch. Naseem takes me to the traditional Malay restaurant HJH Maimunah, which is packed to the rafters with lunching colleagues, couples and families. No one dines alone. As everywhere, there’s loud, piped-in music. When they’re not eating or shopping they’re working long hours, so Singaporeans need to eat fast, which explains their penchant for cafeteria-style eateries and their obsession with street hawkers.

I let my host do the ordering while I grab the only free table in the place. She finds me — bearing a tray packed with red onion salad with cucumber, pineapple, chile and vinegar; lettuce leaves with chile sauce; baby eggplant with spicy sambhal sauce; some dark leafy green in coconut sauce; tapioca leaves; jackfruit in a coconut-curry sauce; potato croquettes; a big bowl of rice; and water and soda. “Expecting company?” I ask. She shakes her head and smiles. “So how much did all this set you back?” “Oh, this is an expensive place,” she admits. “This cost $8.”

Of course every bite is delicious. We sample everything—  the jackfruit is a revelation — and head out. I steel myself for what’s next: Orchard Road.

Mall Madness
Imagine walking along one bright clean street for several miles. Now picture every square block of that street lined with a mall. Every single window you lay your eyes on is a storefront. That would be Orchard Road, arguably one of the most famous shopping addresses in the world.
I ask Naseem how many malls Spore has. She scrunches her face to calculate. “Well, let’s see. Singapore is divided into north, south, east and west. East Singapore, where I live, has the most: 15 or 20. So I would guess there have to be at least 50 malls in the city.” I’m astounded: that’s thousands of stores on this small land mass. “Oh, but that’s not counting the individual stores, strip malls and shopping districts.”

Here’s how seriously Singaporeans take their shopping: The central train station is in the busy Marina district, home to many fancy hotels, restaurants and watering holes. There’s a walkway to Suntec City, a popular mall with shops as well as offices. Much of the population passes through here every weekday. There are shops all along the walkway, Naseem tells me, so people can shop on their way to shopping. And if that’s not enough inducement to shop till you drop, which they never seem to do, there’s an annual event, which I just happen to be in town for, called The Great Singapore Sale. Every year from late May to late July, vendors discount their merchandise up to 80 percent. Asians, Malaysians and Westerners in the know plan entire holidays around this. Locals take staycations to maximize their shopping hours. Each mall has its own personality, its own specialties — and everyone has a favorite.

List in hand, I follow Naseem’s brisk lead to the Mustafa Center, open 24/7, to check out camera accessories and CDs. I opt for some local flavor: Bhangra (check); Ghazal (check), Tamil (check). Twenty discs set me back $85 — and these weren’t the typical bootlegs (shrink-wrapped as proof). Somewhere along the way I acquire a cute pair of black sandals ($18), some batik fabrics that will become drapes and a tablecloth ($34), a camera lens (a bit more), birthday presents and one large bag ($3.50) to cart it all home.

Last stop of the afternoon: Chinatown, which, unlike New York’s, isn’t teeming with fish stalls, plastic Buddhas and $20 imitation Louis Vuittons. I’m drawn to a shop selling — could it be? Money. “Look closely,” explains Naseem. “It’s not real. There’s a Chinese tradition of burning these wads to bring prosperity.” I could use a little financial help, so I buy a stack of funny money and plan to have a bonfire when I get home.   
                           
In the course of our expedition, we pass everything one could imagine, and then some. The House of Condoms, right on Orchard Street, indeed sells but one commodity, and I’ll bet the guys working at the 24-hour Thong Delivery Kiosk have some stories to tell!

It’s that time again, so we find a mall I dub the Food Temple, with hundreds of the faithful chowing down on small stools. We sit down for some tea and something my BFF insists I try: bread with durian spread (on my taste meter, the Asian “king of fruits” ranks somewhere between Marmite and poison). But I eat, while she tells me a bit more about Singapore’s fascinating background. The city was founded on British law, and the State takes a lead role in the lives of its citizenry. There’s virtually no unemployment, poverty, crime or homelessness. People are required to save 20 percent of their income in government-sponsored banks. That money goes toward either the purchase of a (government-subsidized) home — once they turn 35 (before that, they live at home) or their retirement. There’s national healthcare, forced retirement, and it’s illegal to litter, or buy or sell gum, though chewing it is not a crime. And don’t even think about trafficking in drugs. Your first offense is your last: The penalty is death.

A Grand Finale

We end the shopping day with a spin through a food hawker center: everything from fresh juices and curries to all variety of seafood, sweet and baked goods (at a stand called Bread Pitt). There’s an outdoor cart section, which goes on for a city block, but Naseem says the better stuff is inside. And she’s right: It’s like every concession stand in a ballpark was put side by side. Each one has a government rating, so you can trust the quality. No matter how your food preferences run — and I’m strict vegetarian — this is a must-do in Singapore. Surprisingly, it’s all quite sanitary — including the drinking water.  

With the clock ticking, we squeeze in a tour of the bustling Clarke Quay waterfront. A short boat ride that ends at dusk is a great way to get the whole scope of this nightlife hub, with trendy bars and restaurants frequented by locals and tourists alike. And then it’s time for an absolutely exquisite vegetarian feast at My Humble Home on the Esplanade, not merely a restaurant but a multi-sensory dining experience.

There’s a small pond inside the restaurant, and chairs and tables that appear lifted from the pages of a children’s fairy tale. Our table looks out on the water. The food is so incredible I have to tell you everything we ate. We start with an amuse bouche of tomato with blueberry sauce and crispy lotus root with fruit salsa. First course is seared fresh “bai ling” mushrooms in truffle jus with mixed greens. Honestly, I could’ve quit then and been satisfied. But no: next comes a double-boiled shredded melon with yellow mushroom and bamboo pith. Then another kind of mushroom (“crispy monkey head”) with sauteed asparagus, and a wok-fried rice with diced vegetables. Our dessert platter of tropical fruits lives up to its “Perfect Ending” billing. How we manage to walk out of there unassisted remains the mystery of the evening.

But we do, and it’s with a profound sadness that I bid my guide and friend goodbye as I head to the airport. My bags are overflowing, my stomach is full, and my camera card is maxed out. And yet I have not had my fill. I know there’s another visit in my future, only this time it won’t be a stopover.

singapore 411

When to Go: As soon as possible! The weather’s always fine. Located just 70 miles north of the equator, Singapore has a tropical, wet climate, meaning hot, humid, and rainy with little seasonal change. Average temperatures range from 73 to 82 degrees F.

What to Pack: Nice summer clothes. Women in Spore really dress up! Of course, whatever you don’t bring, you can pick up in a heartbeat. If you plan to do serious shopping, bring bubble wrap and an extra bag. Don’t even think about drugs, lighters or chewing gum.

Getting There: Singapore Air has daily flights from 10 major US cities. Crossing the dateline means “banking” one day that you “withdraw” on your return.

Helpful Websites:
www.visitsingapore.com
www.newasia-singapore.com
www.greatsingaporesale.com.sg/2009
www.stb.gov.sg