We were up at 7am to start our early morning visit to Singapore. Some seven potential coach parties poured into the View buffet restaurant only to find that although we were in Singapore waters the pilot was in no hurry to guide us in. Also there sky was black with heavy clouds so heavy they appeared to lie on the water blocking our view of other ships as well as the coastline. It looked very depressing and we suspected we would get drenched.
However, the weather gradually lghtened, and our mood changed to. By 9am we had docked. Our coach parties were allowed out one at a time and the one Albina and I belonged to went first. The port terminal was truly impressive, and incomporably an improvement on all the other ports we had visit do far. we advanced forward through the lond corridors until we reached the immigration lounge. At first the situation looked normal as we formed a human snake in the zigzag queue awaiting our turn. Although no visas were required the Singapore immigration seemed even more thorough than their Indian counterparts. I noticed looking across the room that some of the passengers had to surrender their thumbprints, while others did not. The occasional person was even rejected and had to go to the back. I was ushered to a lady whose previous applicant from Borealis had been rejected. She looked at my passport and looked at me and then asked me for my landing application number. My what? I told her that the ship's staff had advised us that a complete list of landing application numbers had already been sent to the Immigration Department. She shook her head. She need that number. I had to walk to the back just as Albina who had gone in before me through another Immigration Officer had been alowed through.
I went to the side where some four of five were standing somewhat shellshocked including a lady who was due to fly back to London today on a booked morning flight. A couple of immigration officers came to us to resolve the issue. I managed to be dealt with first. It was a very trickly onlone application for entry. I had to give all the details on my passport, my phone number and my email. Whn it cam to nationality "British" was not an option on their scrolled down list. We tried UK and ended up with Ukrainian. That had to be cancelled and the application started all over again. United Kingdom appeared to be the right response. However that was not enough. We needed to give the county as well, in my case, London. Thy needed to know the name of the vessel on which I had been cruising. Borealis, of course. No good. There was no Borealis and no Fred Olsen on their scrolled down options. As the poor man ran through other names, I spotted the option "other cruise lines" and we opted for that. I was then given a landing card number which he asked me to photograph. Armed with that I marched back to the front of the queue and as soon as an officer was free I barged in. It was the same woman. This time she looked at my passport, looked at the required number showing on my phone and let me through. No thumb marks were required.
By the time I got through out coach was 2 hours behind schedule. Nor was I the last, as others in the same boat as me, kept turning up after me. The guide, poor man, had a much shorter period that he had originally expected and he also needed to avoid a possible afternoon rain shower. Consequently we started our journey with the National Orchid Garden our intended destination.
I had never been to Singapore, unlike Albina. She had visited the place on her way to Bali. But we both watched with fascination the changing picture that passed by our coach window. We had clean and silent streets. No litter, no wild animals, roads, no honking cars, no hazardous driving. It was a contrast not just to India, but also to Britain. Then there was the greenery. Everything was green. Trees,shrubs and beautiful trees eveywhere along the routes or in the gardens of private properties. The apartment blocks all looked neat and wll lived in, with no rubbish on the outskirts, regardless of whether they were private or public. Most actually were public and you could normally tell one from the other because the private ones tended to be behind closed walls. I was told that while Singapore had traditionally been divded into ethnic districts, with the rapid new developments this was no longer possible. So places were allocated there according to a formula. 75% Chinese and 25% Malay. The streets were not as busy as in India because 75% of the population of 5.6 million feel obliged, in the interests of ecology, to commute by the local subways, many of which cross the islandon overhead flyovers. I had a twenty year old guide book to Singapore which listed 3 subway lines. Now there are six.
There were massive development projects. The large cranes near where Borealis had docked would be moved to a new cargo port further east. The land so released would be added to the current development of new houses, offices and shopping centres. Former visitors to Singapore could not believe how much had changed in the last few decades, and even years. Old colonial propertiers and the original small houses of Chinatown had been disappearing, and this had caused an outcry not only from local residents who could be ignored, but from outside tourists and from UNESCO. So there is now a policy of retaining at least 7000 houses in conservation areas,although often this meant gutting the building and leaving only the traditional frontage. History and housing are constantly on the move. The old guide book I mentioned is now totally useless. It might just as well be a guidbook to Pompeii.
As much as 25% of Singapore is land recovered from the sea. These now include exciting new initiatives, such as the massive cable car link from the main commercial centre to the top of Mount Faber which even goes over the top of the port area and over the Borealis. Then there is the sensational Supertree Grove in the Gardens by the Bay with their vertical gardens some 40 to 50 metres high, and the Marina Sands Skypark which appears from the distance like a boat that has been stranded on top of three skyscrapers. We only saw these form afar but they were to take your breath away at the sheer audacity of the architecture. Yet with each new building projects the ecological requirements are not neglected. This is effectively now a green city, a city and an extended garden all in one.
We arrived at the National Orchid Garden and this was a further feast for the eyes. Not only a mass of green plants and trees but a violent display of the brightest colours. Purple, lilac, blue, orange, red, yellow and hundreds of shades in between. The terrain was hilly but the paths were well kept as we slowly proceeded up the hill listening occasionally to the guide's explanations. At the top of the hill was a house from the plantation era which showed pictures of prominent people, including the Queen and Margaret Thatcher, being shown the latest hybrid bloom bearing their name. We kept discovering new paths as the whole park was one giant labyrinth, but one from which nobody wanted to escape.
However on our way dowm I came across Mick, one of our older passengers. He is very weak and elderly and moves at a snails pace as he walks with his pair of sticks, counting his steps. He always needs to help to mount and get off a coach. He is under instruction from his doctor to walk as much as possible so as to strengthen his anles. He is very determined and climbed the steep steps to the inner chamber of the Taj Mahal on his own. Yet now I found him in distress. He had been steadily climbing the hill way behind us, got tited and decided to get down the ill. On the way his head, and specifically his straw hat, had got caught in the low branches of a tree. Mick could not free himself, despite many minutes of trying and in this struggle he had exhausted himslef. He could barely stand. Slowly I manged to dislodge his head and held him up by his arm. He clutched my arm panting and exhausted but I was worried I could not help him. The guide found us tried to hold him up from the other side as we continued doen the hill. Some passing strangers went forward at our request to the main lobby to fetch a wheelchair which they kindly brought us. We managed to park the old boy in the chair. The guide hurried back to the group and I slowly wheeled the poor gentleman back to the coach. Others helped him get back on.
We went on a drive through colonial Singapore and then Chinatown. We drove past buildings that had been her since the prehistory of Singapore. Admittedly that is not very long ago. However, some of the landmarks around the mouth of the Singapore River still remain, as pristine as ever, most notably the iconic Raffles Hotel, the National Museum, the National Gallery, Fort Canning Park, St. Andrews Cathedral and several other churches. Not forgetting of course the Singapore Cricket Club. With all this rapid change in Singapore and despite the temptations of rocketing real estate, the cricket club grounds first set up in 1852 still remain. Our guide mentioned these building as we passed, but so rapidly that we did not have the chance to even take a photo. Similarly we roared through Chinatown and past one of those over the top Hindu temples radiant with colour and extraordinary human imagery. Again, too quickly to take a photo.
Finally we stopped at a coach park on the outskirts of Chinatown and were given 45 minutes to do a bit of shopping. Albina took advantage of that to buy some shoes and a dress and I bought a further couple of souvenirs for friends. Sharon joined as we sampled the atmosphere of a Chinese market, full of genuinely practical goods, not just the souvenir racket. We noticed one curious shop selling paper versions of various valuable household products, including alcohol, mobile phones, coffee. We sensed that these paper products are items to be burned as sacrifices to obtain grace and favours from whatever deity they were intended for.
The last stage of the coach visit was to the top of Mt. Faber for a panoramic view of the city. It was also the far end for the cable station that carries people 100 metres above sea level from Mt Faber to the Harbourfront. I guess that view from the cable cars must be sensational, if you had the head for such sites. Unfortunately (or fortuately) we did not have the time to take a cable ride. We stopped to take in the view and Albina and I helped ourselves to a double portion of luxurious ice cream at the restaurant.
We heard the ringing sound of a bell from time to time and decided in the last couple of mintes before the coach left, to investigate. We were amazed. Under a sign saying Poland's Bells of Happiness we saw two large bronze bells, one older than the other. with children swinging the clapper by a long rope. On closer inepection we found that the two bells were inscribed in English and Polish and were presented by two celebrated Polish tall ships used for training. The older one was from the "Dar Pomorza", and the newer from "Dar Mlodziezy". What an extraordinary and unexpected find at the highest spot in Singapore. They are considered bells of good men, particularly to newly weds, who arrive here before their wedding to ensure good fortune and a happy marriage. Of course, we rang the bell for good luck and I took a picture of Albina holding both the clappers.
The coach took us back to the ship. Albina was too tired to do anything. After having high tea in the Vues restauarant she settled down to a book and spent the rest of the day in the cabin.
I decided that I need to pay another visit to the city tomorrow to pick up on what had been missed because of the delay to our earlier coach excursion today.
My quiz colleagues had gone on a late "Singapore by Night" excursion. I was left on my own for Quiz Night. I ploughed on nevertheless and got seven answers right out of 15. One that I got wrong irked me considerably. How many As in the first name of the singer who's surname is Streisand? Answer is two. Her first name is Barbra, not Barbara. Well, you learn something new every day.
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