Search Salon

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Recently in Salon Travel

Into the belly of the earth
A cave in southwest France illuminates some of life's deeper secrets.
By Beth Kephart
[11/29/99]

Thanksgiving: A personal history
From the mythic Midwest of my childhood to the mesmerizing Chicago of later years, this holiday has always evoked a place.
By Jennifer New
[11/24/99]

Vagabonding
Fear and loathing in Latvia
Between the fistfights and the Finnish girls, it's hard to get any writing done.
By Rolf Potts
[11/23/99]

Epiphany at Joshua Tree
A woman confronts her painful past on an Outward Bound pilgrimage into the heart of fear.
By Barbara Wilson
[11/20/99]

Wanderlust
Sexual charades in Seoul
To save face, I had to pretend to rape my Korean girlfriend, and she had to pretend to resist.
By Richard Newman
[11/19/99]

Complete archives for Travel

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I met the hotel's general manager, John Segreti, for a cup of coffee in his new lobby, a resplendent place, huge windows overlooking a gorgeous garden and a swimming pool the size of a lagoon. Segreti is a big, rugged American fellow, with the shoulders and powerful personality of a guy who was a football star in high school. "Singapore may look Western," he said, "but it's not. Scratch the surface of the modern city, and you'll find old Singapore underneath. You see that escalator there?" He pointed to an escalator leading down to the hotel's coffee shop. "I paid $1 million to move it 10 yards. It used to be in the middle of the lobby, and the feng shui master said that it was making money flow out of the hotel. That was a 10-second decision."

The feng shui master also told Segreti that he had to have a silver sculpture of a rooster in a particular place in his office. What if he didn't want a silver sculpture of a rooster in his office?

"Tough," Segreti replied with a grin.

I hope that by now I've said enough nice things about Singapore to be allowed some grousing. The government really is high-handed and dictatorial. One of the places Singaporeans want to show off to you is called CHIJMES, a 19th century Gothic convent that has been converted into a complex of restaurants and shops. (The strange name incorporates an acronym of the previous tenant, the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus.) It's all been very stylishly done, with open-air music and arts performances, but what they don't tell you is that the convent was a thriving educational institution until the government kicked it out a few years ago.

At the Duxton Hotel, I met a young Chinese woman who had attended school there. She was disgusted by what they had done to her alma mater. When I asked her what she thought about the fact that a production of "Nunsense" was currently playing at the convent's de-sanctified chapel, her eyes widened in horror and she covered her face, speechless.

Now they're going after Chinatown with a new project to "revitalize" the neighborhood. No one seems to like the idea, neither the residents nor the environmentalists, who claim that the scheme will turn the area into an Oriental theme park. When I walked through on a Sunday afternoon, the place was positively bursting with vitality: People were lining up at durian stalls; outdoor vendors were selling cheap dresses and shoes; tourists were thronging the jewelry shops. I stuck my head in the door of a karaoke bar specializing in traditional Chinese opera. An old lady was wailing away while her friends sipped tea and nodded their heads in time. But several people told me that it didn't matter what anyone said: Once the government made up its mind to do something, that was it. It was just a matter of time.

And yes, there really are way too many rules here. On my last day in town, I was having drinks with a friend at the bar of the Four Season Hotel, and we thought we would order some snacks -- sinful stuff like pāte and fried brie. The brie was delicious, but difficult to eat with the little bamboo picks it was served with, so I asked the bartender for a fork.

"I'm sorry, sir, it isn't allowed."

"What do you mean, not allowed?"

"We're not allowed to use silverware in bars here."

I couldn't believe my ears. Why the hell not?

The barkeep shrugged. "Singapore law."

Well, what about coffee? No spoon with your coffee?

"Ah, that's an exception," he said, smiling obligingly.

I thought about pulling a Nicholson and ordering coffee -- hold the coffee, hold the cup and saucer, just bring the spoon -- but I thought better of it.

On one of my first visits to Singapore, someone explained the rationale for the chewing-gum law to me. It seems that at one time a favorite prank of teenage kids on the subway was to stick their chewing gum between the doors, so that when the train stopped at the station and the doors opened, the gum would stretch across the entrance and make it impossible for people to board the car. So the government outlawed the stuff, earning the gratitude of grown-up commuters and making their country look forever ridiculous in the eyes of the world. But at least there's a reason. What were they thinking of by outlawing knives and forks in bars? Were they afraid that foreign businessmen staying at the Four Seasons would get bombed on G&Ts and run amok, stabbing each other with forks?

I licked a dribble of warm brie off my wrist. It was so sensual, so delicious. Maybe that was the reason, I thought. After all, we come to Asia to experience strange and exotic folkways. Perhaps Singapore has just discovered a better way to eat fried cheese.
salon.com | Nov. 30, 1999

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

  Get a printer-friendly version

  E-mail a friend about this article

  Backflip this article to find it again

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Search Salon