A Different Face for Singapore By Alison Elisabeth
Singapore, a gleaming metropolis of soaring skyscrapers, manicured gardens, and people in suits; where shopping malls are supersize, electronics are truly king, and chewing gum is illegal. I have passed through the city many times, but never considered it as more than a brief stop on my way somewhere else. Now I have a three-day visa run and am determined to get a glimpse into life beyond the shiny facade. I do some research online and book a room in the leafy seaside suburb of Bedok, which promises beaches, parks, recreation areas and quaint tea houses.
I fly out of Bali during a torrential downpour, and land in Singapore to find more of the same, it’s clearly not beach weather, and when I arrive at the guesthouse they have no record of my booking and no rooms. But, it all happens for a reason, and as the owner drives me to his other guesthouse in Little India, he suggests that I visit Pulau Ubin and paints a picture of a beautiful island national park that is home to the last remaining Kampoeng (traditional village) in Singapore.
Pulau Ubin
Early the next morning I travel east to the Changi Point Ferry terminal. A beautiful white sandy spit dotted with palm trees curves around the bay creating a natural lagoon and the placid harbor is filled with pretty wooden bumboats. It’s just a ten minute boat ride to the island, but when we disembark on a wobbly old timber jetty, it’s as if we have been transported to another place and another time. Before us the rocky shore is dotted with brightly painted weatherboard houses perched on stilts and big shady trees. Bike shops line the dirt road and a lady in a big straw hat tries to rent me a shiny mountain bike, but I am planning a leisurely pedal around the island, nothing too strenuous, and I choose a pretty pink girl’s bicycle with a wicker basket.
I pass through palm groves and rubber plantations and soon find myself in thick rainforest; sunlight peeps and teases through the leaves, interspersed with drizzly rain. It is disgustingly humid and I feel like I am trapped in a steam bath, the gentle rises in the road have me pedaling madly and I regret not paying the extra for a mountain bike. A giant − almost komodo size − lizard stalks across the road in front of me, and monkeys swing through the canopy high above. Eventually I come to the Chek Jawa wetlands, a conservation area that is home to Singapore’s richest ecosystems. The timber boardwalk starts on a pretty boulder strewn beach, and winds around a seagrass lagoon. In the shallows I spot cowrie shells, shrimp, star fish and a pair of tiny seahorses. It leads on through giant mangroves and mud mounds, built by the illusive mud lobster, then back onto a path through dense coastal forest. I am lost in the moment, reveling in the peaceful and pristine beauty, but the silence, is shattered by a crash as a wild boar comes charging through the undergrowth. Oddly, a few minutes later I come across the same boar (or one of It’s relatives) being hand fed bananas by a man on the path. I reach the parking area and find that it has been overrun by monkeys, one perches on the seat of my bike another sits in the wicker basket. Thunder rolls in the distance and the sky has turned black. I really don’t want to get caught in a tropical storm and once I regain possession of my bike I pedal furiously, passing small farm houses surrounded by fruit orchards, trees laden with ripe durian and fields of tropical flowers. I stop briefly at one of the islands abandoned granite quarries; what was once a vicious blight on the landscape is now an enchanting green lake fringed by coastal grasses, palm trees and forest. Cycling on, the hills and forests give way to flat coastal scrub and I arrive back at the kampoeng with its quaint houses and Chinese lanterns, just as the rain sets in. I find shelter in a quirky restaurant swamped in pot plants and twisting vines and wait out the storm. It’s dark by the time I get back on the boat and the bright twinkling lights of the city beckon across the water. The natural jungle of old Singapore is left behind and I am soon back in the concrete jungle that is modern Singapore. The bus passes through suburbs filled with colonial mansions and then right through the heart of Geyland, the vibrant and garish red light district with sleazy massage parlors, night markets, and xxx girly bars with pumping music.
Little India
Refreshed and showered I head out into the labyrinth of streets that make up Little India which is buzzing with all the trappings and trimmings of the Southern Indian Tamil Culture. The streets are rowdy and chaotic with hawkers selling garlands of yellow flowers and kitch Hindu iconography; Bollywood music blares out from loud speakers. I take a seat in a sidewalk cafe and am soon eating aloo gobi, palak paneer and chapatis, washed down with a mango lassy. The air is thick with the smell of cardamom, and women glide by sheathed in bright saris and laden with gold jewelry. I wander past ornate temples swathed in garish colour and am overcome with nostalgia for my days spent traveling in India. I am easily lured into a costume jewelry shop filled with sparkling adornments, and eventually leave with a bag filled with gaudy earrings, hair trinkets and jingly jangly anklets. I walk on, passing quaint, colourful houses with brightly painted shutters, and intricate floral reliefs. Turning a corner, India is left behind as I am confronted by a busy six lane road and a wall of gleaming skyscrapers.
The Evolution Garden
It’s my last day in Singapore and I make my way to the Botanic Gardens, I love the peaceful sanctuary provided by gardens in the heart of a city and wander through lush rainforest, a sweet little ginger garden, and the largest and most famous display of orchids in the world. But it is the Evolution Garden that really blows me away. This 1.5 hectare area provides a journey through time and depicts the evolution of life through the ages. The entrance is marked by a column of petrified trees and the path leads through different areas, starting with the barren, desolate ‘Lifeless Earth’ 4,600 million years ago. Onwards through time, I pass prehistoric plants and trees that look like something out of a sci fi film, as well as giant dinosaur footprints, and a magnificent grove of Cycad palms, modern survivors from the Jerassic era. Then on through the first flowering plants that sprang from the earth 144 million years ago. It’s a fascinating tour through the history of our planet, and so humbling to see the evolution of plant life over 3.5 million years – considering that humans only appeared 100,000 years ago.
Kampoeng Glam
I have just a few hours left and one item remains on my agenda, and that is to visit Kampoeng Glam – the heart of the Muslim community with streets named Arab, Kadahar and Bhagdad. The breathtaking Sultan Mosque acts as a landmark; it’s design was influenced by the Taj Mahal and it is composed of a mesmerizing swirl of minarets and turrets topped with a shiny golden dome. A pedestrian street lined with tall palm trees leads up to the mosque and the area is imbued with a quiet, lazy charm. Once again I feel like I am in another world. I sit down to have a peppermint tea, the sweet perfume of apple tobacco wafts over me and I notice the people next to me are smoking shisha, the most wonderful of Middle Eastern pastimes. I spend my last hour exploring the alleyways and small shops filled with spices, Persian rugs and rolls of shimmering silks and rich brocades. And then my time is up, and it’s with more than a little regret that I make my way to the airport. A city that I had dismissed as boring and soulless has turned out to be multi faceted and endlessly fascinating and I know that I will be back there soon.
