SINGAPORE, THE CITY IN A GARDEN

When we planned this trip, the goal was to see more of Australia and to go finally to Bali.   That Singapore was the most logical way to get home was a happy accident.  We hadn't been there, we knew it was a destination in its own right, and we wanted to see it.  Thus, we planned an additional two days to insure that we would get more than a passing glance.  I'm so glad we did.  

On the drive into the city from the airport, the streets are lined with bougainvillea, every building looks brand new (which is more about maintenance than about age), and the architecture as you get nearer the downtown is simply sublime.  And parks and pocket gardens everywhere. 

The two pictures above are the view from our hotel room.   At night, the lotus style building (the center of the first picture) is equipped with a light show that illuminates each lotus leaf in colorful, geometric designs.  The unusual tri-towered building is the Marina Bay Sands Hotel and the platform on the top has a infinity pool that runs almost the entire length of the building.  It's worth Googling.

Singapore, a city/state of 5.6 million people and surprisingly only the 19th smallest country in the world, has one of the lowest crime rates in the world.   It is one of only three city/states, the other two being The Vatican and Monaco.

The next morning we were greeted by our Singapore guide, Desmond, a native Singaporean both full of pride and well informed about his beautiful city.  We drove around the city agawk at the glittering steel and glass and noted that not so much as a stray wad of paper litters the sidewalks.  

As you may have heard, Singapore has rules--lots of rules.  Graffiti is not allowed and of course no littering.  The rule about not being allowed to chew gum is apparently true, lest an errant blob of gum should end up on the sole of someone's shoe.  And he reminded us of the young American who was caned for spray painting several cars back in the nineties and how the incident received international attention, including pleas for lenience from President Clinton.   It became quite a cause célébre, threatening to ruin the diplomatic relationship between Singapore and the U.S. and in the end the boy's caning was reduced from six strokes to four.  But he still got caned.  Rules are rules.

Hearing Desmond tell the story, Tom and I kind of lost the sympathy we had felt for the boy at the time.  It's not only the rules that keep Singaporeans in line; it's pride--pride in the beauty of their city and the smooth way in which it operates.  Traffic moves politely and methodically, without the typical horn honking and lane switching which is the norm throughout the rest of Asia.  The government requires the repainting of government housing every so many years which explains why everything looks so new.  Singapore dazzles and glows.

Desmond took us to three areas of the city which differ dramatically from what I've just described.  First we went to Arab Street, which is more than one street--it's the whole area which celebrates Muslim culture in the city and is dominated by a huge mosque with a golden dome.  Very colorful and interesting.  And clean.

Arab Street

This shop sells only saris.

The approach to Sultan Mosque

The Mosque sits in the center of a large plaza with cafes and shops lining the periphery.  

Several blocks are covered with Street Art.  NOT graffiti, Desmond was quick to emphasize.  This is one of the only areas of the city where painting on the building walls is allowed.


Next we went to the Indian quarter, which has a completely different character, and finally to Chinatown with a very old Chinese temple--right in the middle of the city.

The next day for a change of pace, Desmond took us to a small island, about a 7-8 minute ferry ride from the mainland.  Called Pulau Ubin, it was a granite quarry, now a lake with mangrove jungle and boardwalk for walking through it and viewing the many varieties of trees and plants.  We saw a large monitor lizard just hanging out and a wild mama boar with her young'un wandering through a sea of parked bicycles.  Pulau Ubin is a popular spot for hikers and bicyclists escaping the atmosphere of the city.  At the end we stopped in a small cafe for a fresh coconut with straw and spoon.  It was so delicious I was ready to scrape at it with my hands after eating as much of the flesh as I could extract with the spoon.  Nothing like the brown, hairy coconuts I've had in the past. 

The approach to Pulau Ubin.

Mama boar lost among the bikes.  Baby is right behind but I didn't want to irritate her.

And a Buddhist temple right in the middle of the jungle.  They were preparing to celebrate something and the roast pig garnished with crab was the centerpiece.  The styrofoam container spoils the mood somewhat but it all looked delicious.

The world's most divine coconut.

That creamy stuff is actually the first layer of the coconut meat.  You scrape it with the spoon and eat the top tender layer. I could eat one right now.

And now we are home after six hours and then twelve more in the air.  Thank you for accompanying us on our fascinating cultural exploration of Australia, Bali and Singapore! 

ANOTHER KOMANG STORY

Now we are on the plane after 2 ½  days in Singapore, another eye-opening and amazing leg of this journey.  I will be already home when I blog about the jaw-dropping splendor of Singapore.  Ironically, airports and planes provide the best time to blog but there have been very few of those until now.  But now I have time, so please indulge me as I tell another charming story about Komang.

The day I asked him how he was able to spend so much time in America, and he told us about his benefactor, the kind man from New Jersey, we learned that he had spent some time in Boulder and even Evergreen, Colorado, not that far from our home in Beaver Creek.  A couple of days later to prepare for our day in his village, he was giving us a heads up on the day’s itinerary and he said that he would be cooking lunch for us in his home.  “Oh my,” I said, “you are a man of many talents, you cook as well!”

He smiled and answered that yes, cooking for us was no problem because one time he had cooked single-handedly for 350 people!  Where?  In Estes Park, Colorado!

It seems that he was staying in Boulder with some friends of his benefactor, and this couple had also visited Bali.  Just like the man in New Jersey, they had fallen in love with it.  Thus, after their visit, they had taken on as a project an orphanage in a small town, and to raise funds for it they had planned a large banquet in Estes Park with Balinese food and entertainment.   I didn’t ask how it happened that Komang was going to be there for this event, but in any case it was to occur several nights hence and they were very excited.  Through advertising as well as word of mouth, they had sold 350 tickets to the banquet and would raise a substantial amount of money for the Balinese orphanage.  Somehow they had found an area caterer who was capable of cooking authentic Balinese food, and they had found enough Balinese dancers and gomelan players to provide the music and dance.  Gomelan are those gong type instruments that you would recognize as the background of typical Balinese music along with eerie sounding flutes and other stringed instruments.    

In spite of the difficulties in arranging a Balinese feast in the mountains of Colorado, the couple had done it and excitement had reached a feverish pitch.  But one evening, with just two days left before the event, the caterer cancelled!  He and his entire team had been in an accident and the injuries were such that the event was impossible.  The couple was devastated.

“Komang!” they said, “what are we going to do?  We can’t hire anyone else in this area to cook a Balinese feast.  We have 350 people coming in two nights!  The tents are rented, the dancers and the band are ready and we have no food!”

Komang was speechless.  His first thought was to simply cancel the party.  The wife cried, the husband was in despair. 

“We advertised, we sold all those tickets, the orphanage is counting on us!  It would be a disaster to cancel,” explained the husband, close to tears himself.

“Well, in that case, I will cook for you.  I am a Balinese cook, I know I can do it.  The only thing I ask is that you give me what I ask for.  I need complete access to the Asian market to buy supplies.  That must be first thing in the morning.  I need at least ten people to help me prepare and to promise to do everything the way I tell them to do it.  And I need enough money to buy what I need which may be more expensive at the last minute.”

Komang couldn’t believe that these words were coming out of his mouth.  What was he thinking?  Three hundred and fifty people???  He was used to cooking for his family!   But the couple’s intentions were pure.  The orphanage was in need.  The couple had already contributed money to it, but they couldn’t be expected to contribute as much as the banquet would raise.  And so he stifled his misgivings and assured them that he could do it and they should not worry.

The couple was ecstatic.  They trusted Komang and promised that they would provide whatever he needed.  The party was a go.

The next day Komang went with several volunteers to the Asian market in Boulder and bought everything he would need to cook a typical Balinese meal like he had done many times in his home village.  To estimate quantities, he simply multiplied what he would normally cook for ten people by 35.  Simple!  For example, he would provide three chicken sates for each person, x-number of sates can be made from one chicken, and so forth. 

He must have been up half the night planning the purchase but I didn’t ask him that.

The hastily gathered volunteers carted the many boxes of chickens, rice, vegetables, fruits, coconut oil and whatever else was required to Estes Park where I assume space had been provided to prepare the food.

All day Komang supervised the preparations.  He instructed the volunteers how to chop the vegetable and slice the chickens.  It was late at night when the volunteers went home and Komang returned to the couple’s house for a bit of sleep.

The next day, at the crack of dawn, Komang was back at Estes to supervise the cooking of the food.  He never stopped for one minute, not to eat, not to rest, not to wander off for a few minutes of solitary escape.  He worked right up until people started to arrive.  The music was playing, drinks were served and when it was time to eat, everything was ready. Throughout the meal, Komang continued supervising, filling in where needed and making sure everything was as he had prescribed.  Probably the menu was pretty much the same one we were served at Komang’s home with his wife and his brother and sister as his team, but we didn’t talk about that.

They raised more than $4,000 for the orphanage even after all the expenses had been subtracted.   And another unspecified amount in donations from the well-heeled Colorado guests. 

The couple couldn’t have been more pleased nor grateful.  They told Komang that he had saved their respective skins, not to mention their reputations, and that he was entitled to half of the profit as his payment.    Komang refused.  How could he accept payment and take the money out of the mouths of the children in his own country?  He told the couple to donate the entire amount to the orphanage and he was very happy that he could be of assistance.

I have probably left out some of the salient details, but once again, I completely believe Komang’s story.  You couldn’t make up a story like that, not for all the fried rice in the world.

VISITING THE BALINESE SCHOOL (Part II)

Here are a few pictures of our lovely lunch with Komang, Nanica and Brother and Sister.  Komang's son, Giga, was there too, but his two older brothers are away at college.  Giga is a sweet 9-year-old who waited for lunch to be ready by jumping around the driveway on stilts handmade by Komang.

Note the concentration on the part of the Sous-chef

Crushing the lemongrass into a paste took some doing. 

And the final result...

Helping in the kitchen is Komang's sister whose name we never did get.  

On the ride back to Ubud, we could see that preparations for the Day of Silence were reaching a feverish pitch.  Tomorrow was the holiday eve and everything had to be ready for the celebrations which would occur in every village in Bali.  The Ogoh-Ogoh--the giant monster/demon figures--sat randomly at the edge of the road and carts of flowers, fruits and vegetables were at the ready.  Tomorrow we would leave Bali and not have the opportunity to experience either the day of celebration nor the Day of Silence the following day.  But with Komang’s vivid descriptions and stories, it would be almost as good as being there.