THE SINGAPORE PRESS
Singapore, how do I even begin to translate this manmade masterpiece of beauty and delight. This small country, a delicately put together short story with overflowing gardens, pools that rival that of the great cities of the world, buildings that look like they were crafted by the hands of the Roman gods, streets intertwining with monumental structures and perfectly moulded architectural shopping malls, and the food, oh the food, this was on a whole new level of addictive and exquisite. Don’t even get me started on the over flowing beverages that lined the streets bringing the evenings to life 7 nights a week, with all kinds of brilliant and individual people all grinning with pleasure; basking in the last minutes till sun down where the moon meets in the sun in a beautiful warm darkness filled with street lights and heavy florescent car beams that filled the streets around the bar and club life.
Leaving the rainy city of Melbourne in autumn was made easier when I knew what was to bring in the new day arriving in Singapore, the warm weather was the original ticket to explore this up and coming city, but what really played on my heart strings was the thought of living, for only a short 2 weeks in the life of a Singaporean. This is something I’ve dreamed of doing for quite some time. Since my friend Dhruv had moved over there I’d heard of the vibing and never ending stories of what this social and career-minded city had to offer. Immediately catching my attention was, naturally the touristy activities that awaited, Sentosa, Gardens on the Bay, cocktails on top of the world with the most outrageous and prestigious pool at Marina Bay Sands, oh and the shopping, the shopping needs a separate page to express how phenomenal this experience was. As a little bit of a shopaholic myself you can imagine my feet were extremely sore after a days worth of getting fashionably excited and stepping into what I would call a ‘Singapore Shopping extravaganza’.
There he was, at the Changi Airport waiting patiently for my arrival after what seemed like a whole lifetime after my long flight. Walking through those doors and out to meet my best friend with his face automatically lit up with excitement, perhaps excited to show me around his streets or rather to show me through into his world at Yahoo, yes, my best friend was now playing with the big dogs being offered an extremely rare opportunity to work as a Marketing manager at Yahoo. He’s worked extremely hard for several years to make it to this limestone position in his life, and there I was arms wide open hugging my extremely successful friend. I could not have been prouder, and of course I was bloody excited. By this stage jumping up and down in excitement was nothing he hadn’t seen, I was like a young child at Christmas; waiting to receive Santa’s present, my present through, wasn’t one that was wrapped up with a bow. This present was a significant amount more special and far more important.
I’d completely neglected to remember on arrival that this new country was not like the one I’d left, wearing a thick fur coat leaving Melbourne I felt completely rugged up and warm, like a little marshmallow, coming from such a naturally cooler city I hadn’t expected the weather to change that dramatically. How very wrong I was. The first step out of the overly air-conditioned airport I instantly started suffocating in the heat, it was almost like I’d been Glad wrapped. Safe to say my beautiful pom-pom coloured fabulously tailored fur jacket did not see the light of day throughout my trip to the surface of the sun, which I did not mind one little bit. I’d swapped jeans, boots, three layers of sweaters, a fur jacket, warm scarf, 3 pairs of socks and a beanie for a little less; shorty shorts from my favourite denim designer ‘One Teaspoon’ and the most fabulous summery shirt, Asos I’ll let you claim my shirt admiration for this outfit. The boots also went to the bottom of the bucket; elegant tribal patterned sandals took their place. These bad boys I picked up from Steve Madden they’re the perfect go-to sandal for any occasion during the warmer months. Shorts, light shirts & sandals had now become my uniform for the next 2 weeks, with an occasional dress outing to mix things up.
Hot off the flight and straight into the gym, some how, which Dhruv mentioning at this point; a miracle, I had developed a slight case of over excited energy. I still stand to this day a bit of a gym fanatic. Pumping my way through an intense class at the Singapore Virgin Active with the little energy I thought I had left I couldn’t help but noticing my enthusiasm for this mental class as everyone else was sweating and starting to fatigue, I’m not sure if it was the 7 wines I’d had on the flight or the adrenaline of being in a new and foreign place that had me buzzing and demanding to be taking out to participate within the evening drinking festivities.
First up; the most spontaneous and over populated, high in demand cocktail bar. As usual Dhruv knows who’s-who and had a friend working on our candy coloured, cinnamon and pear-tasting cocktails plucked straight from heavens gates. These Cocktails had me falling in love all over again. With each drink had a whole new level of deliciousness and a flip of fabulous flavours. After allowing myself 6 cocktails it’s safe to say I had managed to try almost every different variation on the cocktail menu. By this stage there was no stopping my first night in this adorable city, next up was the extraordinary Bartina just down the road. The brilliant and extremely convenient thing about Singapore is that their night life seems to huddle in spots, and what I mean here is that they have strips of clubs and bars much like The Valley in Brisbane, but much cleaner, more presentable, classier and richer. This strip of many bar streets was called Club Street; how beautifully obnoxious and fitting for such an outstanding evenings drink. Understandably the next day bought about a huge headache and more activities that had me falling tremendously and deeply in love with this overly groomed wonderland.
Do not tell me women are horrible with directions without some sort of repercussions. In this case, I’ll give you a free pass; my sense of direction is one to be rivalled with a 12 year old, even then I wouldn’t be surprised if their intuition was exceeding mine in that department. Finding yourself lost in Singapore is apparently, as I was informed, near on impossible. Marina Bay Sands seemed like hours away yet I could see it’s roaring and iconic ship-like mantra from any corner of the city. By 3pm I’d taken 3 trains, walked 2 hours and asked for direction only 8 times by almost amused locals in desperation to finally find the mighty Marina Bay. Daylight would be coming to a close before long and I was still spinning in angst. Evidently and by chance, somehow I’d stumbled across a rather commendable looking building the read the words ‘Marina Bay Sands’ – hallelujah
– fist pumping the air and jumping like a Toyota ambassador seemed like the appropriate first move to make at this point. Success. Next stop, a dashing cocktail poolside before the sun went down.