Back to the future

March 8th, 2011

A four-hour trip takes me from Malacca, Malaysia, to the Little India district in Singapore. My main concern is finding budget accommodation in Singapore—a bed in a dormitory for less than S$25. I sleep most of the way. I am awakened by a gentle touch from the bus driver:

“Sir, please proceed to the Malaysian Immigration Office.”

We have reached the border. Everything seems fine and in accordance with the law. I leave the terminal and re-enter the bus. Five minutes later, we stop again:

“Singapore Immigration Office. Please take all your belongings, as they need to be scanned.”

I pick up my backpack, leave the bus, and step onto the escalator. A large sign reads: “Death penalty for drug traffickers under Singaporean law.” I shiver and wonder if someone, somehow, packed something into my backpack.

“Do you have any liquids inside your backpack, sir?” asks the security officer at the scanner.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, I have no liquids inside my backpack.”

I should have known by now—there is no need to complicate things.

“I wish you a pleasant stay in Singapore, sir.”

“I’ll do my best, thank you.”

I find a bed for S$22 in Little India. I couldn’t be happier to drop my backpack and get ready to explore the country. Little India, as the name suggests, has very little of India itself. Yes, there are Indians everywhere. Yes, there are shops, advertising signs, and restaurants. Yes, people walk on the road and traffic seems to lack order. But India is so much more than this. There are no cows blocking traffic, no monkeys stealing sunglasses from tourists, no piles of garbage, no burning plastic on the roadside, no children running around, no colors, no tuk-tuks or rickshaw drivers, no traffic jams or honking, no street food stalls, no one asking you, “Where are you from? Where are you going? Why don’t you come to my shop? What do you want?”—very little indeed.

With no better plans, the first thing I do in Singapore is take the MRT (the city’s metro) to the famous Orchard Road.

“You have arrived at Orchard Road. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform,” announces a sultry female voice with a British accent.

I ascend countless escalators until I finally exit the MRT station—only to realize I am still underground, inside what appears to be a mega shopping mall called ION. I get a headache straight away; my body doesn’t cope well with air-conditioned, multi-level concrete buildings. Dazzled and confused, I finally escape the underground, fashionable prison. My first impression couldn’t be more overwhelming: after six months of traveling through Singapore’s neighboring Southeast Asian countries, arriving on Orchard Road from underground feels like traveling 75 years into the future.

I am motionless, speechless. My neck bends until my head almost touches my back. Keeping my nose parallel to the sky, I slowly attempt to look around. Massive shopping malls are everywhere. Six traffic lanes—three in each direction—cut through the city. On the wide sidewalks, rows of tall trees alternate with well-kept flowerbeds and designer benches. Singaporeans with iPhones and shopping bags walk in and out of opulent malls. Eye-catching glass windows display gigantic photographs of Western models wearing Prada, D&G, Gucci, Boss, Nike, Adidas—every brand you can think of. If you can name it, you can find it.

I walk straight ahead, thinking, I should take some pictures, but everything feels like too much. I don’t even know where to look. Everyone I pass is smartly dressed, attractive, and rushing somewhere. I feel like a drop of water on a painting. With my flip-flops, smelly clothes, and long, unwashed hair, I could easily pass for a vagrant who has just woken from a long sleep. I must have walked for over 30 minutes, and the shopping malls seem endless, each one outdoing the next in extravagance and cutting-edge design.

At the tourist information center, I gather details for the few days I will spend in the country. It’s 6 p.m., and I’m still wandering around—this time with a map and a goal. I want to see Singapore’s skyline from above. I’ve been told that one can climb to the fourth floor of the Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay, a stunning building on the north side of Marina Bay, and enjoy breathtaking views for free.

I reach the place and once again struggle to navigate a maze of escalators. The effort is well rewarded. As I step onto the rooftop, I am greeted by spectacular views of Marina Bay and the southwestern skyline of skyscrapers. I take countless pictures and wait for sunset. Later, I head inside and catch a free Cool Classics concert in the main hall, listening to contemporary interpretations of Handel for cello.

Around 8:30 p.m., I stroll around the bay. It is a warm, humid night in Singapore. I walk south toward a gigantic white, lotus-shaped building—the ArtScience Museum. Street lamps, spotlights, skyscraper windows, bridges, walkways, trees—every object emanates artificial light. It is so impressive that I stop every ten steps to take snapshots.

March 10th, 2011

I have little time left before heading to the airport. I’m flying to Perth at 17:50 from Changi International Airport. My Singapore experience is coming to an end—but not before a visit to the largest bookstore in the country.

I love bookstores. Like a bee around a hive, I can spend entire days wandering their shelves. I usually stick to the Graphic Design and Photography sections. I love sitting on the carpeted floor with a pile of carefully selected books, scanning them one by one. Time and space fade away as I travel inside my blissfully ignorant world. I’ve visited many impressive bookstores in Europe, but I assure you—none rival the one I am about to enter, neither in size nor in quality.

Located, of course, on Orchard Road, this bookstore is absolutely unbelievable. The graphic design and photography sections alone contain more titles than an entire European bookshop. The latest book in the Design New Arrivals section is from February—last month. It’s early in the morning, there are very few people around, and I have a hundred square meters of design books entirely to myself. It feels like browsing Amazon with your fingers, nose, and eyes.

Although Singapore seems far ahead in almost everything, it is deeply comforting to realize that books not only still exist in the future—but that they have more space than ever.