Dec. 29
The plane was a little late getting
to the gate at Bali, but it made up some time during the flight. We got back to
Singapore around two Saturday morning.
We went through immigration and
customs with no problem. We got a cab right away and made it to the Porcelain
around three.
The Porcelain looks classy. Its
portico is freshly painted white and there are little round blue signs in
front. Inside everything is new, black, and shiny. Very hip.
As I was dragging toward the elevator,
I heard the lady at the desk say something to Joanna about the room. It may be
too small, but we can get an upgrade.
Everything had been going swimmingly.
I was too tired, though, to read that as a warning.
We got to the room, a “queen-size
standard,” they call it. It wasn’t a room at all, but a compartment. The
bed is queen size, and it touches three walls of the room. The rest of the room
consists of a shiny black bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a showerhead next
to the sink. The remaining floor space can’t hold four bags and two people. We
had to shove the bags under the bed to fit into the room.
Standard, my ass. This is substandard
by all measures of the Third World. I paid $19 U.S. a night in Chiang Mai for
digs three times this size. Prague, Hong Kong, Montmartre, even The Orchid in
Singapore were palatial compared to this.
I figured it was a scam and they
would want double for something that passed for a room, but I looked at the
upgrade in the morning. The difference is $10 Singapore a day. I think the
bathroom may be bigger, but there still isn’t space on both sides of the bed,
no space to let bags stand on the floor, no chair. Not an improvement.
Once my outrage wore off, I realized
that the place was full, and I was the only guy who seemed put out by all this.
The staff seemed confused. Everybody else seemed OK. Well, there was an Indian
family in a few rooms on our floor who spent most of the early morning hours shouting,
but they seemed to be shouting at each other.
For $150 Singapore a night, I don’t
expect a three-star hotel. I don’t even want one. But I do expect something
close to what I get for 50 bucks a night at a Super Eight in Kentucky.
So I booked us into another hotel
down the street. This time I looked at the pictures on the hotel’s website
first. Yes, I could see a chair next to the bed in the twin room. So I took it.
On its website the Dragon Court Hotel
bills itself as “a brand new hotel just opened in 2013.” I guess for the past
50 or 60 years it operated under a different name and then it reopened with no
changes this year. It’s old and decrepit, in fact. But there is space. There’s room
for bags, and even a chair and desk.
There is a public sitting room
outside the private room.
We went to McDonald’s for breakfast
because that was the only place we were sure would have brewed coffee. We found
a cleaner for my laundry, and that was lucky. The stuff will be ready by 5 on
Monday.
On the way back, we stopped and had a
dish of a dark jelly with diced peach in a milky-looking broth, which was
slightly sweet and very refreshing. We also drank a dark herbal tea that
reminded me a little of root beer and was supposed to cure acne and make my
eyes brighter.
We stopped at the Porcelain for a
nap.
Larry took the train from Kuala
Lumpur to Singapore. He was due at his hotel around six, so just for the hell
of it, I booted up the computer and used Skype to call his hotel. I expected to
leave a message, or maybe be connected to his room.
Get this: Larry had just checked in
and was still in the lobby. They handed him the phone.
We arranged to meet for dinner at a
place called Geylang Clay Pot Rice. Larry later told me that he had learned
about the place from reading Anthony Bourdain.
It’s in the open, on a corner of
Geylang Road under a colonnade. The food is possibly the best we’ve had so far
on this trip. Larry called ahead to arrange for the clay pot at seven. We
ordered soft-shell crabs and a leafy green vegetable, maybe gai lan, too.
The clay pot is just that: an
earthenware bowl with a handle. It comes filled with rice and chicken in a
savory sauce. It’s delicious. Watch out for the bones. The crabs had just a
little bit of chili. I had that with a few Tigers, the local beer.
After dinner, my feet were starting
to hurt, but the rest of me didn’t want to quit just yet. We walked down
Geylang Road to find a bar that Larry remembered. We passed what appeared to be
a brothel (Geylang is Singapore’s Red Light District) and came to a Buddhist
temple where a ceremony was in progress.
We looked through the door, but weren’t
sure if it was OK to go in. A lady saw us and came out to invite us. The
ceremony was led by a group of monks from Tibet. They used bells, a drum, and
the long, deep-bass horns, as well as voices. The chanting continued almost
without pause for several minutes at a stretch. There wasn’t a discernible
pause to stop for breath.
At one point the lady who had invited
us, handed us a kind of pasty substance with the consistency of Play-Doh. We
were to roll it in our hands and I especially was to tap the butt end on the
stuff against my feet. It would ease the pain.
OK, so I did that.
We were sitting on cushions on the
floor. I stayed there for a while, but then my knees and my back started to
rebel. As I said, the gout kills my sense of balance, so getting back up was a
comedy of errors. I managed it, but nearly knocked a votive lamp off its shelf.
We did find a bar, but not the one
Larry was looking for. This one might have been even better. I was supposed to
drink only water after my foot treatment. Well, there is lots of water in beer,
so I guessed it would be OK.
Larry recognized some bottles
displayed on the wall. They were craft brews from Italy. I think the bran is
Beer 32. Anyhow, there was a big “32” on each label. So that’s what we had. First a strong pale ale, which was
made with a little bit of citrus, and then a red ale, which also had a fruit
flavor, but that may have been an overtone of the malt or the hops.
The bottles had conventional caps and
corks under the caps. The lady who served us made keychains out of the corks.
She gave the pale ale cork to Joanna and the red ale to Larry.
We cabbed back go Mosque Street and
enjoyed the new space.
Woke up late Sunday morning, around
eight or so. We walked to the Maxwell Road hawker center for breakfast. This is
the center where we had eaten the chicken rice before we went to Bali.
I don’t know if it was the Buddhist
ritual, the craft beer, or both, but my feet were so much better this morning
that I actually forgot to take my stick with me when I walked out of the room.
I went back and got it just to be safe.
On the way to breakfast, we passed
the big Hindu Temple, Sri Mariamman, where we heard drums, but didn’t go in. We’ll
take our shoes off to visit there later.
They sell very strong coffee indeed
at the hawker center, so we won’t have to go back to McDonald’s on this trip.
Joanna found a stall selling congee,
the thick rice soup, which she ordered with pork and century egg. Century egg
is a regular egg, from a duck or a chicken, which has been aged until the white
turns black. I have eaten the duck egg by itself, and that was a little too
gamy for me. Broken up in the porridge, however, the eggs are very tasty. Pork
is always delicious.
I bought some egg tarts and a pieces
of sponge cake, so we had those too.
The wifi at the Dragon Court is too
weak to work properly in the room, but that’s all right. The Dragon Court is at
18 Mosque Street and the Porcelain is at 48. I walked back to the Porcelain to
take a shower this morning in the shiny bathroom and to use the Internet access
in the room.
I guess I have a suite now. It’s just
that the rooms are separated by half a block.
Be well and have fun, everyone.
Dec. 28
Hi Harry,
Great seeing you last night.
I hope the Buddhist incantations helped your foot. Man, that looks painful! So, let's see how little walking we can do today!
Please be hungry! Lots of lamb marrow and seafood to eat. I also think we will be able to get some Baron's beer. See you this afternoon.
Larry
Dec. 28
Sensei, I don't know whether it was the prayers or the Italian craft beer, but my feet are feeling so much better that I actually walked out of the room this morning without the stick and had to go back to get it.
When I walk during the day, my feet normally swell. I guess everyone does that. The gout just makes them bigger. It also fucks up my sense of balance. Figuring that the beer is what gave me the improvement, I'm surely hoping we do luck into some Baron's or some strong ale later.
Bone marrow sounds great, too.
We'll wait for you at the Dragon Court, if not in the restaurant on the sidewalk, then in the lobby. We'll try to be there around 3:45. If we're not downstairs when you arrive, the desk people may be able to come to our room to alert us. There is no phone in the room there. See you later.
Grasshopper
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