Singapore: Taking oxymoron to a whole new level

As I’m writing this from Singapore’s Carlton Hotel, I’ve come to the realization that most of what I’ve heard of the little country from others who’ve been here have been confirmed. What I also realize is the fact that some of these things I’ve heard have much darker implications that I initially thought, which sort of warps the image I had for the island nation.

I got here for work, expecting a pretty packed schedule like the last time I got out of my birth country for work. But no. We had to find our own way out of the airport and to our accommodation. We had to sort out our own transport and food, and that hurts when you come from a country which currency is close to three times smaller, and shrinking; a meal at a fast food joint here could pay for two back home.

As a result of this kind of independence that I don’t think anyone can appreciate, our schedule was pretty lax. No ‘get to the lobby by 6pm so we can go the restaurant and have dinner by 7’ nonsense, which results in a wounded wallet and a ton of free time. No ‘get ready by noon because the event starts at 2pm and we have the traffic to deal with’ either, since the gig was held in the hotel itself. And because of this unexpected amount of free time, I got into contact with a couple of friends, one whose family has moved here since before the person in question got to college and the other who moved here for work after graduation. Because of the short notice, none of them could play tour guide (and sort out my meals) for me, so I was left wandering the streets while looking for lunch and dinner. And what I saw was quite shocking.

There are many things you hear about Singapore, chief among them are the fact that the people here live very fast-paced – and there for stressful – lives, and if you can afford a car here, chances are you can afford the country. The latter was painfully obvious; there are more taxis than there are cars, and in the few cars that are around, you’d be about as lucky as finding a needle in a haystack without hurting yourself if you could find one occupied only by the driver. Almost everyone carpools here, unlike back home where almost everyone insists to be the only living organism in their car.

And the reason this is possible is because the public transport system is great. Getting around using the MRT was an experience very different from the LRT back home. While the latter made you wait so long you could finish reading a book, the wait for the MRT never took me longer than two minutes, and the average waiting times don't seem to exceed 10 minutes. The trains themselves were great too. The public service announcements were fully automated, and at every stop, you are reminded to mind the platform gap. You are informed of a fork in the transit’s journey a few stations beforehand, and are reminded to get off and wait for the next one that goes to your destination. Some of the train cars even indicate which station it is in, which stations it will go to and on which side will the doors open.

All that said, the road traffic light system is a total mess. It’s such a mess, you’d think your hair when you just woke up was the most orderly thing in the world. Imagine this: you’re at a crossroads, and you’ve got the green light to either turn left, go straight or turn right. But so does the bunch of people on the opposite side of traffic. This means that if you were turning right, you might have to stop in the middle of the junction of there was oncoming traffic going straight, or worse, turning right as well. Add walking pedestrians into the mix and I’m very surprised that I’ve yet to encounter a traffic accident.

There is an equally surprising upside to this though. Because of the chaos that is the traffic light systems at junctions – or it may well be another reason altogether like, maybe law enforcement – there is no jaywalking. I hesitate to say absolutely no jaywalking because I saw a pair of people doing just that yesterday, on the way back to the hotel for dinner. Save that pair, absolutely no one crossed the road, even when there were no oncoming vehicles for a good minute. Everyone waited for the green man in the box on a stick. Some sticks even tell you to speed up when you see the green man flashing and a timer shows up above his head, and don’t bother beginning to cross if you haven’t already when that happens.

Also, when you are out and about, you notice the little things that make this small country so much better than its neighbours. Half the escalators I encountered had a sticker by the side that said “keep left” which allowed those who were in a rush to overtake the slow walkers. A bit like in traffic, really, only here people actually do it naturally, without needing to be told. Or honked at. You don’t see the lovey-dovey couple blinded by their mutual infatuation that makes them think that the escalator belongs to them and they can stand wherever they very well please. Well, you do, but most eventually realize that they’re being uncourteous.

Which brings me to the dark implication about the people’s fast-paced and stressful lives. Throughout the day, and especially at night, you see properly dressed people standing around – some even squatting around – on the streets with their cigs alight. I found this to be a little disturbing, considering there are more women that do this than men. Even the women in their skirts are smoking on the streets while squatting (try getting that image into your head), instead of going to some café and have a proper seat. I was half thinking that they were whores, but when I walk past them, I overhear their conversations and most of them involve how they plan to either go on an eternal holiday or strangle their co-workers and bosses with their own intestines. It is still a disturbing sight nevertheless, to see people who are dressed up quite nicely – some of them quite obviously fairly well-to-do too – behaving like homeless people. And speaking of which, there was one camping behind the hotel I am staying at, with his cardboard mattress; a sight I never thought to see here, but I suppose I should expect this in every single country in the world.

So yes, while the collective minor differences do ultimately change the experience – though I can’t quite decide if it’s for better or worse, I find Singapore to be quite like Malaysia. If you don’t know the place, you’d think it’s paradise on earth, but when you get down there and experience it for yourself, it feels just like any other place in Southeast Asia. Just like an outsider would find Malaysians polite, locals would know that they are so only to the fair skinned and without black hair. To their fellow locals, they are about as polite as an old timer prison inmate is polite to a newcomer, i.e. the rudest, possible imbeciles you can find on the planet.

And on that bombshell, adieu to y’all.

P.S.: Sometimes, I miss my childhood innocence that allows me to be really excited whenever I go on a journey, especially if it's to a place I've never been to before. Now, while I'm able to appreciate the differences more, the experience ends up being mellowed by the similarities that I find instead.