We finished on press Thursday night, around 3 a.m. I arrived at the hotel around 3:30 a.m. and was able to get a good amount of sleep before we were up and facing our last day in Singapore. We took advantage of this day by spending time on Arab Street and in Little India. In the Arab district, we ate lunch at a hawker center...





... and then we walked around the market.

The markets are fascinating. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but I absolutely love going to all markets (fresh, seafood, super) when traveling. They are so revealing of a culture -- and so much fun. However, the market in the Arab district may have triggered the slightest desire to return home... or at the very least, pizza.

Like every day in Singapore, Friday was a very hot day. The outdoor markets that boast all sorts of dried fish and seafood were smelling especially pungent and my stomach was in no mood. Both Ryan and I were giddy and grossed out. It just smelled so bad. (Literally, when I look at a couple of these pictures, I can smell that place and I gag a little.) But we still enjoyed ourselves, and we took a lot of pictures. Click to enlarge.


What is this?


Mussels...



Little Fish... These were actually on my plate when I ordered a local breakfast. I didn't eat them.

Without the Food Network or the Travel Channel, many Asian foods that would have otherwise baffled me were quite familiar. Still, some remain exotic enough to unnerve me (shark's fin and durian) but others have become very enticing. Ever since I first saw them on television, I have longed for steamed buns (stay with me, I'm still talking about food). So, imagine my excitement when we went we walked into a 7-11 and saw this:


7-11s are everywhere in Singapore. In some instances, we counted three 7-11 stores on one block. They are as common as Starbucks are in US cities.

I held back on the convenience store steamed bun, as I wanted my first experience to be a bit more authentic. So, on Wednesday, October 1st, Ryan and I went to a food court (slightly different than a hawker center, it is air-conditioned and a bit, well, cleaner) and ate steamed buns, wild mushroom and spinach dim sum, and chicken feet.




The wait was worth it. Those buns were delicious! Since I've always associated them with dumplings, I expected them to be more like a thick dumpling and less like bread. But just as their name implies, they were soft and bread-like; like a bun. The wild mushroom dim sum was excellent, and the chicken feet... they were tasty, but there wasn't much to them.

Ostrich and wrasse weren't the only new foods I tried in Singapore. There were many new experiences!

Whenever Ryan and I ate in town, we ate almost exclusively at hawker centers. These are open-air complexes that are made up of rented stalls from which individuals sell their food. Hawker centers are similar to a food courts, as we know them in the States, but they are typically outside and you will not find commercial restaurants there. The food is fresh and often made right in front of you. It is a common and inexpensive place for locals to eat. Each time we at at a hawker center we were the only tourists there.

Day One: I ate dumplings that were made-to-order and so good. 10 dumplings, $3 Singapore dollars / $2.00 USD. Ryan ate duck and rice, also for $2.00 USD


Above: Man making my dumplings...
Below: My dumplings!



Hawker Stall

Steamed Fish Head!


To be continued...

I have a weeny stomach. Ryan tells me this all of the time. But I try not to let that hold me back. I still love almost every type of food, and with the years, I have become more and more adventurous. I have learned that the best food isn't always cooked in the most sanitary of places, so, I travel prepared with a purse filled with every type of intestinal remedy. (And when I forget and start to panic, Ryan typically has me backed up... because he knows me that well.)

Honestly, I wasn't too concerned about my stomach the first time Desmond, Sarah, and I dined together. Though the fish was new to me (again, I'm sorry fish) and each dish prepared in a Cantonese style, the ingredients weren't wildly different from ingredients I am accustomed to: noodles, rice, steamed greens, deep fried tofu, braised beef.

Dinner was another story. The first dish presented was a platter of prawns. Shrimp! I love shrimp! (I still can't grasp the difference between shrimp and prawns. Is it really only a size issue?) But these buggers were not pretty. With their heads on, beady black eyes staring into space, and spiced with that sweet mystery spice that seems to be in every Singapore dish, I started to feel uneasy. But I couldn't turn back! With Desmond, I had established myself as a culinary adventurer. Desmond seemed so excited that I was willing to try whatever he ordered... and honestly, I was proud to wear that badge.

So when he suggested ostrich, I didn't bat an eye.

The dish arrived and it looked quite good! The meat was dark, sauteed with a light (soy? teriyaki?) sauce and topped with green onions. It also tasted great. But as I chewed, I grew more and more anxious. My thoughts flitted back to the best night I've ever spent in Verona, Italy, in which I dined with friends/colleagues Claudia, Steven, and Daniel at Antica Bottega Del Vino. That night, I ate cavallo (horse meat). It was very good; prepared in a style I'd never expected: dried in paper thin slices, and then shredded and served in the shape of a nest. I thoroughly enjoyed the dish, but the entire time, I was horrified that my stomach would soon be cramping and with embarrassment I would have to return to the hotel. But it never happened.

Even though I'd been spared in Italy, I still worried and worried about the ostrich. I believed my fears had been realized when the room started getting really warm. Soon, I was sweating. Not profusely, but enough to worry. Immediately I asked for directions to the rest room.

Now let me set this up: We were dining at a seafood restaurant in the more remote industrial area of Singapore. By day, the place was hopping, but at night, so much as the sound of a rustled napkin could be heard by the chef, in the back, in the kitchen. Because we were, literally, the only patrons at this particular time, we had about 5 to 6 waitresses taking care of our every need. If I took a sip of tea, within seconds, a waitress was pouring a refill. If I dirtied a dish with, say, 2 shrimp, immediately, a waitress was switching my dirtied plate for a clean one. All eyes were on us. It didn't help that Sarah and I were caucasian. Clearly, we were tourists.

So when I stood up and asked for directions to the rest room, all eyes were on me. I concentrated my full attention on not passing out (as I felt like I would at any moment) and I made my way to the back of the restaurant.

Oh, Asian bathrooms. Why oh why would one choose a squat-toilet when you have a normal, western-style toilet just feet away. It is beyond me. However, almost every bathroom I went in (aside from the hotel bathrooms) had the option of a squat-toilet, or western-toilet. I never tried the squat toilet. Girls shouldn't have to aim. (There was one of those really advanced toilets in the Tokyo airport that has all sorts of buttons and options: music, water sounds (should you need to cover up any sounds of you own), warm water for your bum, and others. I have a picture of one that I will post.... yes, I took photos in the bathroom.)

Anyway, I spent a few minutes in the bathroom at the restaurant, ran my wrists under cold water, and returned to the table. It was then that I had to admit to my fellow-diners that I wasn't feeling well. As I assured a very concerned Desmond that it wasn't the food, I was simultaneously and silently mumbling prayers to any god listening that it really wasn't the food.

Turns out, the gods (or God) was listening. It was jet lag. It hit me like a hammer in the face. I returned to the hotel for a couple of hours to rest and was as good as new.

Once again, I survived adventurous eating.

On Monday morning, September 29th, Sarah McLaughlin (no, not that Sarah McLaughlin, Sarah my associate from Giles publishing in London) and I met up with Desmond, our print rep from Singapore. Over the course of the following four days, the three of us spent many, many hours together. My schedule for the first two days went like this:

Monday - Began at 10:15am, had a break to shower and refresh at 7:00 p.m. then worked through until 7:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning: 21 hour shift with no sleep.

Tuesday - Was able to sleep at the hotel from 7:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m. (1 hour only!) then we worked through until 6 a.m. on Wednesday morning: 22 hour shift with no sleep

So actually, that adds up to 44 hours worked with one hour of sleep.

Obviously, shifts like this bring you close to your coworkers. For every lunch and dinner break, Desmond took us to a new restaurant. He was intent on helping us to experience the local flavors.

The first day we went to lunch at an upscale restaurant that served food prepared in the Hong Kong and Cantonese style. Desmond ordered for us, as he would at each meal. The spread was incredible. Dish after dish arrived, each one new and delicious. We started with a fish that was cooked in two ways. First stir-fried with a brown sauce, and secondly, steamed with vegetables and tofu. It was delicious, but it wasn't until I returned to the States and did a little research that I realized exactly what type of fish I was eating.

We were dining on wrasse. Wrasse is a coral reef fish, and a highly controversial catch.

The grouper and the Napoleon wrasse live in the Coral Triangle spanning the waters of Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, Timor Leste and the Solomon Islands. They are dwindling in numbers and their disappearance could seriously upset the eco-balance of the coral reefs there, says the WWF.

After Hong Kong, Singapore is the second-largest consumer of these fish in the region, noted the leader of the WWF's Coral Triangle Network Initiative, Dr Lida Pet-Soede.

Read this entire article here.

In order to protect the delicate balance of coral reefs, the World Wildlife Fund is asking that we cut down on the consumption of wrasse. From now on, I will comply. (Sorry fish! You were tasty!)

As far as I know, I didn't eat anything else controversial. I skipped the shark's fin. Not because of my morals, or because it wasn't offered to me, honestly, I was just concerned about my stomach.

To be continued...

The second part of our Sunday was spent at Boat Quay (pronounced KEY.) One of the very interesting things about this area is the very large umbrellas that were constructed over the streets. Even the monsoon season can't shut down the clubs.


The area is a fairly new construction that is made up mostly of restaurants and clubs. While exploring we came across this bar called The Clinic. Very unique.