Singapore

It was a few days ago now, and there have been a few Tiger beers between then and now, so I'll try and remember what happened. I'm looking through my camera for guidance - a photo of Bronwen drinking a Singapore Sling, a photo of the ration pack we had to buy from the supermarket when the thought of another bowl of noodles was too much to bear (fruit, nuts, bananas - plenty of roughage, if you insist on asking. Oh yeah, and some chocolate biscuits).

Singapore (population 3,000,000 whatever-those-portable-Playstation-things-are-called) is what happens when you put a collection of proto-fascists, accountants and bankers on a small sand pile in the Straits of Malacca. It's kind of interesting for a few days, then you realise there's nothing really to do if you aren't working, catching a hyper-efficient train to work, eating, shopping, or arranging a term-deposit.

Well, here's a potted summary anyway: Days 1-3 Raffles Hotel, markets, food, markets, museum, markets, Raffles Hotel, our hotel, Little India, Chinatown, markets, food. Day 4 We spent the last day eating lunch at a wicked Lebanese restaurant the Lonely Planet found me last time I was in Singapore, and then had a good deal of time relaxing in the hotel while they fixed our air-conditioning. And then we went to the grocer and saw dried crabs in a plastic packet and where all that stolen Eastern Victorian abalone ends up (in a can). That's about it. Not bad for a stop-over - a short one.