Hungry Singapore Nights

Or night, more accurately. Before coming to Singapore, we had only two associations with that teeny-tiny but totally packed city-state: the hyper-strict society that caned an American 15 or so years ago, and the name on the tag of lots of cheap manufactures. In our 20-hour stint there, we saw some hints of those, but also experienced a bright and vibrant global city.

We met up with our Irish friend Mark, from Bali, at a hostel in Singapore's Little India neighborhood. Walking in around 5, we couldn't see what the name was all about, but when we left the hostel at 7 to see the town, the area around us had been transformed into a different world. The narrow streets were packed to the gills with men (literally, only men) from southern India-- eating from stands serving Indian pancakes and chickpeas, standing in groups in the street talking, praying in the temple, sitting at plastic tables drinking tall beers-- and Mark, who had come from India before going to Indonesia, said it felt like a piece of Mumbai. We wriggled our way through the crowd to the subway, which, in itself, was pretty technologically cool. (The single-use tickets are sturdy plastic, which open the gate via a scanner, and come with a refundable deposit to ensure recycling, and the announcements of stations are impeccably audible.) The reputation for order and strictness was also in evidence: there was a looping video showing a simulation of what a Singapore subway bombing would be like and giving explicit instructions to passengers on how to avoid such situations; more lightly, there were signs at all the entrances saying "No Durians". (Tangent #2: A durian is one of the weirder tropical fruits we've eaten. It's the size of a coconut, but covered with short, sharp spikes; you really wouldn't want one to fall out of a tree on you. It smells like a mango slowly rotting in the midst of a garbage heap, a scent which not only carries across a room but also leaves its trace on anything it touches-- hence the subway ban. The edible part is a thin layer of slimy coating on the mouse-sized seeds. We also tried some rather more easily enjoyed fruits lately: rambutans, which are like lychees; mangosteens, which have a purple skin and almond-like seeds shaped in a flower; and salak, with a snakeskin-pattern rind and a pear-apple taste.) Anyway, point was, we got on the subway in India, and got off, it seemed, in China.

Ethnic Chinese make up almost 77% of the population of Singapore, so the Chinatown there is not the residential center for the community, as it has traditionally been in American Chinatowns. However, it definitely felt like the cultural and culinary center for Chinese in the city. From the subway, we came out onto a market street lined with tent-roofed stores selling red-tasseled lanterns, gaudy pink stuffed animals, and multi-colored sequined bags. The next street (the one we had been eagerly awaiting) was lined entirely with food stalls. We walked up and down the row, perusing our myriad options; then we dove in and feasted. Two choices had been recommended to us as Singapore specialties, a delicious barbecued stingray and rather slimy but generously filled oyster omelette. In addition, we had bitter greens sauteed with chilis, steamed buns filled, respectively, with pork, lotus paste, and red bean paste, and a wonton soup that was by far the most delicious I have ever tasted-- a rich, sour/bitter/spicy/sweet broth with thick, chewy, flavorful dumplings. Mmmm. We washed it down with weak but suitably-beerlike Tiger Ale, gaped at the flourescent parade celebrating the last night of Chinese New Year, then waddled our way back to Little India and went to bed.

In the morning, we said goodbye to Mark (but with the happy possibility of meeting agin in Thailand or Cambodia), then headed back to the airport for our third country in two days. Singapore was not a stop we had planned, but it was a thoroughly delicious one.