Singapore on the Back Track

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March 28

I am finally entering the gate to Southeast Asia. The Emirates were not exactly what I had gone traveling for. In this state city, there is little to feed the stereotype of the dingy city of pirates and seafaring people, however. Singapore is a busy modern city with a reputation for strict laws that appear ridiculous. Don’t flush a public toilet: get a fine. Throw away trash: get fined. Every bathroom advertises the “right way” to wash your hands, every escalator has a sign reminding users of the “correct” way of riding it.

The more surprised am I when I arrive at the station in Little India and find trash on the street. Seems like even Singapore isn’t resistant against the Indian way of life, ey? ;) (to be fair, there are many other places with trash around the city). My first impression of the dorm room in the hostel: one night. No more. I’m staying here for exactly one night. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I sweat, I have NO space and there are 10 beds in this tiny room. No fun. German voices everywhere, some dutch, some Swedish.

I go out, around the corner to a hawker center to get some food. A Karaoke shop closes just the moment I walk in and I get turned away. Fine, I wanted to eat anyway. On the doorstep I find a single Chinese dye (I decided it’s Chinese, since the one is a single big red dot). It shows a three. What is that supposed to mean?

Rolling the dice in Singapore - wait, is that even legal?

Hawker centers are where you get your food in Singapore. Full stop. Around open courts with fixed chairs and tables, little food stalls are set up that offer all varieties of food. From Frog Porridge over Fish Curry, Fried Noodles, Vegetable Soup to Chinese Dumplings, they’ve got it all. This one place I've come to is not particularly good. After I decide not to go for the frog right away but opt for a chicken soup with lotus roots I realize both that I am not a fan of Lotus root and that it will be nearly impossible to eat vegetarian, leave alone responsible around here. Vegetarian meals are only a side note even in the Indian menus.

In this fusion of kitchens only some of its traditional elements survive, I realize. Everything is tuned to the Singaporian taste, meaning mostly that a bit of sugar was added to make the taste more pleasant. If sugar wasn’t available or suitable to the dish, chili is the choice of enhancement. I later learn that this is mostly the Malaysian influence. Singapore is a mixture of Malay, Indian and Chinese culture, with a little bit of Thai. The food is incredible, but to find Malayan food is actually kind of tough. If you do find it, the food is often ridiculously expensive.

Frog in dried chili sauce - it's HOT!!!

The next day, I explore Little India on a bike. Suddenly, the world seems to be a better place. Just being on a bike makes everything look so much better. Despite the hostel managers’ recommendation to do this “experimental” Indian food thing where you get a set meal on a banana leaf (I’ve been to India, dude, but thanks for the tip), I ride past along the restaurants that follow the gigantuos shopping mall where I exchange money.

I finally enter a Hindu temple and walk around. Feels much more like home than the city has felt before. Indian spirit, people are either smiling or dead serious in their prayers. I’m lucky, it’s time for the midday prayer ceremony (around 2 pm) and before that, they offer me some prayer rice. It’s a sticky conglomerate of overcooked rice with yellow/orange pumpkin. And it’s delicious! It also comes in banana leaf paper. Take that, common tourist!

Blessing in an Indian temple

The bike turns out to be more fun, even. I explore the marina part of the city, run into a building that is topped by a ship (what?) and find out Singapore has a Formula 1 track. How could I not know that? Hm, maybe because I don’t care about watching sports. Either way, I grab my cell phone camera and shoot a fun-video. On the bike. It has hidden insider love-messages to the only thing I couldn’t quite leave behind in Germany  although I quite successfully stripped myself of material possessions:: the smile on Caro’s face (and the rest of her that radiates behind it). I cruise around on the track, pretending I’m a news correspondent. This IS the most fun I have had in the last week.

The adrenaline goes down and so I decide to do what I came for in this area: go up the observation wheel (how much did you say you want for that? 30 Dollars?) and see the city from the Top to get a better impression. It’s not a bad sight.

View of the Singapore Skyline...and yes, that's a ship on the building ;)

The port is filled with an abundance of ships, there are pretty green areas, living areas, gold courses aaand: the skyline. It’s actually interesting because of the architecture, but that isn’t enough to convince me to see Orchard road, the main shopping street during the next few days. I just don’t care for shopping and all that at this point. It disgusts me. I battle the thoughts with a snack along the water and some free air Aikido. Nobody notices me until floods of joggers start to crumble in and along the bay. They must’ve all just gotten off work.

Singaporians are hard workers, Bobby tells me. He’s a Fillipino in his forties and manages a bar in China town. I meet himtaking a midnight snack at a stall a couple of days later after the night market in China town. He invites me for a beer and tells me about his life, working for the education of his children. His entire family is spread all over. His brother is in the USA, one in Canada, another brother in London. He used to have a drycleaning business, got rich too fast (too good too soon, he says). Lost everything and now he is scrambling to make both his living and the future of his family. It is tough in this city. The pay is good, but he had to get used to being an employee again - and not seeing his family.

With Bobby in the bar he manages

And in Singapore, you are expected to work hard. If he had all the money in this world, he would go traveling, he tells me. With his family, even his relatives. If I ever come to the Phillipines, he expects me to call him and let him know. His friend from Manila is a big shot in the major political party, he claims. He’ll show me the country from its best side, he nods assuringly while handing me his card. I take it, trying not to feel sorry for him. I’m living the life he would like to live right now. It just makes me sad to think of how a guy with such a nice heart is now driven by money, because he has to and endures a yearlong separation from his family every year, which hurts him badly. You can tell from the way he talks about it. Wouldn’t he be better off with his family? Living in the now instead of the future?

I lie awake in the dorm bed for a while that night, pondering over the conversation with Bobby and a long Skype call I had with Caro. Am I living in the now? Memories of the last weeks and fears about the future dominate my thoughts, before I fall asleep that night.

Santosa Beach 2010

Santosa Beach 2012

Santosa Beach Jump

Thoughts about your own being are bad for work ethic, but fortunately Singapore offers plenty of recreational opportunities beyond shopping. Probably the most proclaimed parallel universe is Santosa Island. It’s a theme park with all kinds of different rides, shows and adrenaline thrills on a small island just off the shore of the city where once pirates used to roam and work on the rough and romantic buccaneer image the Pirates of the Caribbean movies have revived.

I crawl up the hill passing a statue of a strange animal that is half lion and half fish. It’s the symbol of the city. Strong yet smelly? Big teeth and ungraspable? Threatening yet clumsy? I can’t decide what attributes the statue wants to symbol for the city, so I continue and take a little cart down the hill to the man made beach, happily checking off the stations I know Caro has visited. Strange feeling to be walking on the same ground she stepped on when really she is far away in Germany. Suddenly, I see a view I’ve seen before. I get out my cellphone and compare. It’s one of the pictures she has sent me of Santosa via e-mail. And suddenly I enter my own emotional rollercoaster. Nothing compared to the fun rides on the island. I obsess about half an hour to find the exact same angle of the picture she has sent me. Suddenly I embrace the fake island. I find a spot closer to the port and watch the giant ships go by. I still haven’t given up the thought of living on a boat. And I can tell I am done with cities at this point once again.

If you could live your life all over again, do it overseas!

Going back to the hostel, I realize there is no use in going to Melakka and Kuala Lumpur as I planned. I need to get out of this bustling, the concrete jungles, the busy streets. I need a break! The real holiday break I’ve been looking for.

Sticky rice and Pao...pure deliciousness, right from China, delivered in small, leafy packages

I get out to get some comfort food, stroll past Chinese pharmacies (in Chinatown) and watch old Chinese men playing Chinese Chess while I am munching on some Pao, a Chinese dumpling. It is a curious site and I wish I knew the rules so I could join them in their little secluded world in the middle of the busy and loud hawker center. But I can’t tell the symbols on one stone from the ones on the other. So I just stand and watch for a bit as the old men laugh at each other, wildly gesticulating about every move they make.

Chinese chess...like regular chess (same same), except very different and with pretty non-desript stones for anyone who doesn't know Chinese ;)

......“Take the bus at Boogey station to Jahor Baru. It’s my home town, just across the border. From there you get a ticket to Mersing. If you are lucky, you can get the last ferry to Tioman. When you are on the island, head straight to Juara Beach and stay there, you will enjoy it. If getting away is what you are looking for, Juara Beach is your best bet.” I soak up the words of the Malayan guy at my hostel reception like a sponge. “Man, I just realize, I haven’t done an island vacation in a long time. I should go to Tioman some time soon myself.” That’s it, he’s sold it. I’m off to Malaysia. Tioman Island!

DubidubiDubai

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March 25^th

I arrived in Abu Dhabi. It is hot, no: scorging and I would not exactly call the place inviting. From the airport I made it to the city center and it is basically a giant mall. I’m open to everything? Uhhm, maybe not. Trying to get local food? Not a chance, so I settle for some chili shrimp rice dish at a KFC, which is expensive enough. All around is high rise buildings, fast food chains and sky high prices. But maybe I just need to open myself up even more?

A Shopping Mall in Abu Dhabi

I’m possibly supposed to stay with Simon, a German guy who lives here. However, I can’t reach him. Checking the local hotel rates actually makes you want to cry. I can completely forget my budget here. It turns out that Simon does not actually work – or live – in Abu Dhabi. He is in Dubai. Miscommunication. Darn. Well, it happens. So I try to get to Dubai.

After an hour of sitting in the sun on my backpack with a scarf thrown over my head and shoulders, the bus to the airport finally arrives. The bus at the connection an hour later just left. So I’ve got three-and a half more to wait until I can go to Dubai. I grab a local weekly and read at the airport, finding some article about sustainable city management and organic efforts. Finally, something I can relate to! But reaching Dubai, my jaw drops again from the skyrise buildings plastering the city, even more so then had been the case in Abu Dhabi.  Here I meet Simon and his girlfriend Maria in a shopping mall.

We go out for dinner and they show me around the marina strip and the beach. In front of us is the beach, in the back rises a wall of illuminated urban madness: banks, insurance companies, real estate offices and apartment complexes in a height of hundreds of meters.  Big culture shock! I was prepared for noise and dirt as I had seen it in Delhi, I was prepared for peaceful and quiet villages in Southeast Asia, but I was not prepared for this bustling financial center of crazyness.

The jaw-dropping continues as  Simon takes me to their apartment. It’s a huge condo in one of 6 towers situated in an area known as “The Greens” – named for the golf course that stretches along the neighborhood. From the balcony you can see the skyline in a little distance and you look right down upon the golf course.

"The Greens" earn their name from the adjacent golf course

To wind down a bit, we hang out with friends and beers in the living room. To obtain the beers, you actually need to apply for a license – like a driver’s license - that your boss and the government have to approve. Talking to people does not immediately appear to be governmentally regulated, or at least I am unaware of immediate restrictions.

So we chat about the character of the city and its people. Dana, a friend of Simon, says something that immediately strikes with my mood and makes the city interesting to analyze. Born and grown up in Malaysia and living in Dubai, she considers Australia her home, where she spent a couple of years. She likes the city, but says “Dubai is not home, Dubai can never be home.” It’s the perfect entry point for me to figure out the city.

March 26^th

Dubai, as I find out the next day, originally started out along a creek where today “Old Dubai” is situated. The area is home to spice markets, fish markets, gold markets. 

The spice market in old Dubai does have a target group! ;)

The creek once allowed people to settle here and eventually begin to trade from this place, with ships going to the Middle East, but also the northern coast of Africa. Water was the motor for this development. The area is pleasant to stroll, the skyscrapers can only be seen in the distance; it has character and I feel comfortable.

It looks as if it would fall apart any minute, but it's going to Iran!

Along the creek I meet Mouhedin. He stands on an old wooden ship on the creek that carries a net of pots and pans hanging on deck. Obviously, the ship – despite its shabby look – spends some time in the open waters. The boat belongs to “my father wife”, which I take to mean it is his father in law’s and he explains to me that it will carry orange juice and cables to Iran. That can take between two and ten days, he says, depending on the weather. I refrain from questioning that time measure and ponder rather what else the ship might possibly be carrying. I feel a sudden urge to join them on their trip to Iran, to be out in the open water for an indefinite time, arriving at a port so strange to me. I’ve already had the feeling that my ticket to Singapore is restricting me in my flexibility. Not cool. Why did I book all these tickets in advance? I don’t know. Not that Iran was my top choice, exactly, still.

Mouhedin on his vacation time.

The ship is loading and will be leaving in three days. Do I dare come back with my backpack? No, I  probably don’t, but I still cherish the thought. Maybe I can get on a ship somewhere further along my travels.

Mouhedin actually is not the captain of the ship anymore when I arrive. It’s a vacation trip for him as well. While he used to do this for a living, he is now working in the oil fields, the second motor of how Dubai became what Dubai is today.

Eighty per cent of Dubai’s population are expatriots. The reason: oil! When it became clear that the oil reserves would run out, Dubai started to attract investors by subsidiaries, getting them to build in the city and get a good return, then sell the property. The plan worked. Within a short time, the city boomed, grew immensely – in the middle of the desert – it became an important economic hub and every larger company wanted to have a branch in Dubai. That infrastructure has come to stay and attracts foreigners from all over the world to come and work there.

However, as Simon, Dana, David tell me: the city’s life cycle is fast. People who come here are looking for good money and good positions. If they find a better position somewhere else, they will leave. This way, each year, about a fifth of the population changes. The overall population does not shrink or increase, but people switch spots. The system is not made for stability, neither in the economic realm assuring loyalty among business partners, nor in the personal realm. Those who would like to stay will forever live on the level  of a second class, because you cannot – as a foreigner or even as a Dubai born child of foreigners – become a citizen. And hence, Dubai will never be home. You work, you play, you leave.

Work? I work out, do some Aikido. For now that seems like enough work around here. So I play. I hang around the pool, doing some thinking about family life when I see a couple with their kid in the water. I shop around and cook a seabream dinner for Simon, Maria and Dana.

Seabream about to be baked to yumminess!

At night we go out to party – Lady’s night. I’ve managed to accept the town for what it is. I can’t say I’ll never live in this place for a while, but only work and (restricted) play would get old pretty fast indeed. This is surely never going to be a home.

Simon, Maria and Dana lounging

Question Authority, Question 3v3ryth1nG!

March 24th

I'm sitting at Frankfurt airport.

My destination: the world!

I can’t believe it is finally happening.

My old apartment. Almost all my stuff I either sold or gave away.

It is a bit scary. I’m surprised by my own courage – or maybe naivité!? But it IS happening. I’m embarking on a journey into unknown places for… well, I don’t know how long. Strange to think that I don’t know how long I won’t be “home” or whether it actually still IS home?

Currently, home is in a travel backpack and a day pack that still feels too heavy anyway ;). Almost all the rest of my life as I knew it is gone – sold, given away – only a small collection of things, mostly of emotional value, remain in boxes with my Dad.

What's left of my stuff fits in two bags (and a couple of boxes at my Dad's ;))

I am questioning everything. I am open to everything. No idea what will come my way. I will be getting rid of all the little economic, social, cultural "shoulds" and other expectations that determine me rather than me living my own life. To find "home" in myself, wherever that may be in the end. I’ve been running in a maze of closing walls left and right for too long. Questioning my job plans, questioning my education, questioning the system of our society, questioning my relationships even. Everything is open.

Friends and family saying goodbye. The bets are 4:3 against me coming back ;).

What a Good... nay... Great Friday!!

As a land animal, we humans are inevitably bound to this surface called earth. It's gotten much more bearable since we found out it's not actually flat as a disc and we started climbing mountains and sailing on the oceans without constant fear of just dropping off somewhere any moment.

However, life on the ground still provides us with a rather narrow perspective and limited view.

In a generous effort to expand my perspective, my Mom gave me the gift of a flight over the Swabian Albs, the area in which I grew up. It is naturally hilly and the types of landscape change frequently between forests and fields, fields on hills, fields on mountains, fields in valleys and the occasional stone quarry next to a field, at least that's what you get from the ground... and that's cool, because it's a lot more interesting than just plain fields like in the US Midwest ;).

So off I went on the little power glider above to see the landscape that I had crossed so many times in my youth: from the Degerfeld airport, close to the small town of "Burladingen" to the Lake of Constance

Anyway, from above ground, things take a different perspective. Everything looks a lot smaller (surprise!), distances are shorter and the world feels a lot more connected. Here are some of the impressions from my flight. Enjoy!

The cockpit of the plane. 3 different systems for navigation are integrated: GPS, ADF a system which uses spots on the ground drawing directional lines from one to the other and VFR (Visual Flight Rules aka sight ;))

Typical for Swabia... "Realerbteilung", which meant that every child inherited an equal amount of land, split up and thus shrank fields for agriculture. On top of this, three different section of a field were treated differently in terms of crops. One year, a crop with high nutriant demand would grow, the following year one with a lesser demand, the third year the land could rest...

In todays modern, technologized economy, the dynamics seem to have somewhat shifted...

"Down" at the Lake of Constance lies the "Flower Island" Mainau. In the summer this island as well as the Reichenau (vegetable island) close by are great attraction for tourists. The yellow stream on the water to the right side of the image is pollen from spring flowers.

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From the lake flows Germany's greatest and longest river, the River Rhine. While the Rhine valley in mid Germany is probably the most beautiful part of this stream northbound, the Swabian Albs are also home to Germany's other great river, the Danube flowing East. This is the most extreme bend on our flight through the Danube valley, photographed at a 90 degree angle by the way ;).

Along the Danube are several little castles and other historical buildings. One of them is Kloster Beuron - an old monastery. The monks used to produce cremes, chocolate, liquor and meats after old recipes back when the monastery was mighty. These products are still sold here today actually and attracts tourists this way.

The last famous tourist attraction on our tour was the Hohenzollern Castle. I've been inside the catacombs with the jewels many times and sat on the cannon like any other child growing up in the area. But instead of looking up from this historical castle into the sky where the planes flew, this time, I had the unique opportunity to be on the other side. Purely amazing!!

Japan comes in for a visit (well, sort of)

Yesterday, I got a great late birthday surprise from my friend Iris.

Since she had forgotten (!) my birthday, she had to make it up with a special treat.

What she did was not only making it up, it was fantastic!!

When I visited her in Japan in 2009, pretty much all we ate were Okonamiyaki - (check out an earlier post with a picture) a delicious Japanese sort of pancake with all sorts of deliciousness in it! And the best part? The sauce on top!!

This is actually the hard part of it when trying to make Okonamiyaki from scratch, since the sauce is not easy to get (at least not in Germany).

BUT, she managed to find some and here is the magical result!

It looks like the real stuff, it smells like the real stuff, it tasted like the real stuff.

NOW, I gotta get my hands on that recipe - stay tuned ;)

Mainz to Paris Recap

The trip to Paris is passed a couple of weeks now, but the memory remains.
What's more: I've grown a completely different relationship to my race bike (although it's not even the same bike I rode to France!).

I've patched up the old fellow, I cleaned it and last Sunday I went for a crazy power-ride into the Taunus (that's a more hilly area around here). 3 hours, 50 kilometers, 800 m in altitude ;).

Anyway, in memory of the greatest bike ride ever, here are some more photos from the trip!



Right behind "enemy lines", when we crossed the border to France and found our first Patisserie / Boulangerie



Me in a sexy bike shirt and helmet in front of the Cathedral of Reims, a city that carries mostly negative connotations exept for......



...... the Profiterol I had there! Woot for sweetness!



This was our little camp set up in the hills of Champaign! To the right lies the city of Reims Which we could see, including the night firework!). The the left lies the beautiful Champaign countryside! The best true outdoor camping spot ever!!!

But we DID have another enormously great camp site.
It was our last night before Paris, it was raining cats and dogs, it was cold, the ground was soaked, we were tired, the day had been long. In three words: it was fucked up! (fine, four words!)
I was sick of it and I didn't want to set up camp in the dirt. Neither did Kamil!



So we found the next farm and asked to stay in their barn... and ended up just between the straw!

The day after that, we finally made it to the big city! 7 days, roughly 700 kilometers and 70 bucks for the bike that I had to sell there unfortunately :(

MapVideo: On a Bike from Mainz to Paris

Life has no adventures? You're not looking right!




This is a MapVideo of the tour I did with Kamil, a great friend of mine.
the clue: The least possible amount of planning. We had printed out a sketchy map off the internet the night before we left. Other than this, THIS was our map:




We traveled from Mainz to Paris in seven days, got scorched by the sun, drowned by rain and went through agonizing pain. We slept in a tent on the fields of Germany and France, we had no idea where we would stay the next night or where the next shower would be (in fact, there was only one before Paris... ehem..)
But when we reached Paris, we had a great sense of accomplishment... and a carbon footprint of ZERO!

This is a preview of a VideoTour with pictures on a Map in GoogleEarth:
Update: I am working on fixing the bug that keeps this window from showing up properly and will try to redo the video as well!