libertus

And then, with a great “whoosh” (which was probably the air-con on the bus) we arrived in Singapore. Late at night with no Singapore money, no sign of a money changer or ATM, nowhere booked to stay and no clue what to do about it. So we hopped in a taxi, negotiated to pay in Malaysian Ringgit and asked to be taken to “Little India”. That worked.

So then, we arrived in “Little India”, late at night with no Singapore money, nowhere booked to stay and still not much of a clue what to do about it. After walking in to a couple of hotels and being rebuffed with “Sorry, we are fully booked”, a slight hint of desparation began to take hold.

Then an angel appeared. Strange looking one to be sure – an older, very large Indian gentleman with a slightly hunched gait and a rough voice who offered to take us to a “backpacker joint”. We accepted and, after a short walk, we arrived outside an establishment that by it’s sign was an import/export warehouse. But no, it was in fact the home of a friend of our angel who offered homestay accomodation very cheap. We accepted.

After dumping our bags we went in search of money and food. Within minutes we had both. It was refreshing to find truly vegetarian food at 11pm. Chilli pakora, black dhal, vegetable masala and some salad all washed down with a jug of Tiger beer.

On returning to the “backpacker joint” we found the doors closed, apparently locked, and we had no outside key! But not to worry. After ten minutes of banging on the door and pressing the doorbell, the lady of the house let us in. The door wasn’t locked – we just didn’t push it hard enough! So we had our night’s sleep.

This morning we shared breakfast with a small, diverse group of fellow travellers staying at the same place. It is becoming clear to me that travelling is a culture unto itself – a culture where there are few pretenses and people are comfortable being exactly who they are, like it or not. I like it, even though I still find the experience a little uncomfortable. I am forced to ask myself the question “Well, who exactly are you, then?” to which the answer seems to be “Whatever you are now”. The act of piercing the veil of one’s self-image reveals that indeed there is something underneath being covered, something one always had or was, but is strangely unknown.

More about Singapore when we’ve explored it a little. Right now we just need to find a hotel room so that we can have a little more privacy for our last two nights together for a while