Some nights are just perfect, you know? Y’all know what I’m talking about? I don’t have a lot to write for day #2 in Singapore, since I spent the day at work and only had the evening to continue my explorations. But man, I had a great night the other night. Just awesome.

I got home around 7pm and took a quick shower before heading off to see what Arab Street was about. ‘Arab Street’ is sort of what they call the Arab section of town, although there is an actual Arab Street as well. I took a cab the short distance to a small area of about 3 square blocks containing little alleys and side streets. Despite the short paragraph I had printed from the interweb describing the area as bustling and lively, with shops and markets selling batiks and clothes and stuff, it was instead really quiet and people were relatively sparse – quite a change from the packed streets of Little India the night before. It might have had to do with the fact that it had been raining earlier, but I also think that part of town grows quiet earlier than other neighborhoods.

I spent about forty minutes walking through the whole area, turning down narrow alleys and side streets, doubling back here and there, and just getting a feel for the neighborhood while I worked up an appetite and looked for a place to eat. There is a huge mosque in the center of the neighborhood, with tall minarets at each corner and a massive dome – all were lit beautifully, and the mosque was surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence that was painted green and yellow. The mosque itself was painted in shades of vanilla, brown, light blue and light yellow. There was an area to the left of the mosque for washing feet, a pretty, blue tiled sort of open-air space with stone stools and faucets at knee-level; some men were washing their feet for the evening prayer. The call to prayer began at 8pm, a loud, haunting sound that emanated from speakers mounted in the minarets. I tried to see whether one of the minarets had an actual muezzin up there doing his thing, but I think he was down below in the mosque, using a mic or something. Makes sense, I suppose.

After thoroughly traversing the neighborhoods and concluding that only cafes and restaurants were open, I selected one on a corner – I believe it was Samar. Man, I had a great night there. I sat outside in a super-comfy leather chair and had a wonderful meal – some Batiti Ma’li, a dish of potatoes (essentially steak fries) cooked in a tomato sauce with onions and spices; a plate of dajaj mahammer, which is chicken breast that is braised then roasted with spices and yogurt; and some basmati rice and Arabic iced tea, which is tea infused with orange and lime juice. Super tasty. I felt so mellow and easy, and everything was just perfect: the slight smell of incense wafting through almost the entire neighborhood, the cool breeze, the excellent food…it was all good in the purest sense of the term. When I paid up, I noticed that there was a) a huge sword on the cashier’s desk and b) a photo of Arafat from back in the day. I asked the woman when she thought the photo was taken, guessing the 70s, and she said, “Maybe the 60’s? I’m not sure. He still looks the same though, but more handsome back then.” It was a funny moment. She had no discernible accent whatsoever. Nothing from Asia, or the Middle East, nothing from Europe…I wondered where she had grown up. I guess I should have asked.

I decided to walk home again this night, especially since it was so pleasant out and my journey was even shorter this time. I strolled down the wide boulevard known as North Bridge Road, checking out the locals and some tourists and stopping off for a couple brews at the 7-11 (the non-romantic part of this post, I guess). Then it was back to the hotel for some mellow classical music and a little reading, and off to bed I went. A truly wonderful night.

Oh yeah. One other thing I didn’t mention in the first post. The morning I left for Singapore, I had both a Whopper and a glass of champagne before 9am. Yes, I did. Yep. Sure did. I know, I’m fucking disgusting. But sometimes you climb that mountain just because it is there….and of all the things that are available in Asia that are not available in the US, a Whopper in the morning just happens to be one of them. So that’s what I had. The champagne was on the airplane, lest you think I had both at the same time….

Chucky