Wednesday, January 18, 2006
I'm sorry, could you say that again?
Singapore flower
You’re wet and covered with ants.
Vanda Miss Joaquim
The national flower of Singapore, and now a nice haiku.
I’m afraid I'm guilty of generalizing. Not everyone in Singapore is Chinese, not everyone who celebrates Chinese New Year is Chinese, and not all Chinese celebrate Chinese New Year. But, I’m quite comfortable with this observation: Everyone likes boogie. I’ll stand by that one. In fact, I’ll put that one on a table where everyone can see it, and boogie around it.
There are people from everywhere here. Most of the caucasians are Australian. There are a few English and some Americans. As far as I know I haven’t seen any Europeans. But in all fairness, I don’t go running up to other white people, slip them the “whitey” handshake and find out where they’re from. There are people from Malaysia, the Philippines, India, Thailand, Jakarta, Cambodia, China, a bunch of nasty, little dinky islands that I haven’t bothered to learn the names of, Viet Nam, Toyland, Japan, China, and refugees from Funky Town. And boy is it easy to spot the Yanks. They are usually found in the financial district, wearing flack vests and shouting very slowly to tiny people. For the most part they look confused and lost. They obviously haven’t read my blog. If they had, they’d be sliding into Singapore like a hotdog slides into a bun.
Actually, for someone who’s never been east of Berlin or west of Hawaii, Singapore is an easy intro to the ways of the east. So far, everyone is nice enough to know my language. There are a lot of familiar landmarks like Starbucks, McDonalds and Borders Book stores. But there are enough exotic things to interest someone who is loosely committed to a blog.
For example:
...Notice, no knives.
Singapore is an island, and I haven’t seen the ocean yet. I suppose I would have had I been vacationing, but who knows I might have gone to the Grand Canyon instead. No ocean there either. Before I was offered this job I had no real idea where Singapore was or what it was famous for, besides the obvious Singapore Sling. All I knew was that it hung down off some Asian landmass and Dorothy Lamoure played Bing and Bob like a couple saps here. The Singapore Sling was invented at the long bar in the Raffles Hotel. Anyone who knows anything about exotic (girl) drinks will tell you that that’s just one theory. Right Mark? In fact if you google it you’ll find its history before you find the recipe. (But, don’t do it right now, I still have more to say.)
My take on it is, if you want to seriously discuss the origin of the Singapore Sling there had better be one in front of me. So all the drunk historians eventually find their way to the Raffles Hotel and order up one of these babies. They are delicious little suckers, the sling; made out of walnuts and hand cream with just a touch of gin, as far as I know. They are so popular at the Raffles long bar that they have the stuff coming out of taps like water. I saw the bartender make, like, fifty at once. The tourists all take pictures of eachother holding up their drinks. There are so many cameras flashing you’d think the drink was some kind of movie star or something. Here’s my picture:
Sorry, no flash on my camera phone. I feel so left out!
I’m so proud to live in a town that has a drink named after it. It’s a new experience for me. I'm finally on par with my former college roommate from Long Island. He always said that on Long Island they called them “Ice Teas.” I think he was full of it. By the way, no one calls them “slings” around here. The few locals that I’ve talked to about the drink won’t have anything to do with them. They cost too much. $19 a pop! And they’re gone in one sip!! Dang!
The few locals that I know don’t really drink. (Granted, no one drinks like a WASP) But, I don’t blame them. A case of Guinness Stout costs $89.55! That’s marked down from $97.90. That’s $60 US. Now go picture the woman who cleaned my house for $7 per hour. That’s like three beers an hour. If all you did was work and drink beer, (Chuck) you couldn’t even come out even. Imagine the fix you'd be in if you cleaned with beer!
finally,
I'm sorry gecko.
I guess I should check the door
before I close it.
Next time...
Feah! who knows.
Any requests?
You’re wet and covered with ants.
Vanda Miss Joaquim
The national flower of Singapore, and now a nice haiku.
I’m afraid I'm guilty of generalizing. Not everyone in Singapore is Chinese, not everyone who celebrates Chinese New Year is Chinese, and not all Chinese celebrate Chinese New Year. But, I’m quite comfortable with this observation: Everyone likes boogie. I’ll stand by that one. In fact, I’ll put that one on a table where everyone can see it, and boogie around it.
There are people from everywhere here. Most of the caucasians are Australian. There are a few English and some Americans. As far as I know I haven’t seen any Europeans. But in all fairness, I don’t go running up to other white people, slip them the “whitey” handshake and find out where they’re from. There are people from Malaysia, the Philippines, India, Thailand, Jakarta, Cambodia, China, a bunch of nasty, little dinky islands that I haven’t bothered to learn the names of, Viet Nam, Toyland, Japan, China, and refugees from Funky Town. And boy is it easy to spot the Yanks. They are usually found in the financial district, wearing flack vests and shouting very slowly to tiny people. For the most part they look confused and lost. They obviously haven’t read my blog. If they had, they’d be sliding into Singapore like a hotdog slides into a bun.
Actually, for someone who’s never been east of Berlin or west of Hawaii, Singapore is an easy intro to the ways of the east. So far, everyone is nice enough to know my language. There are a lot of familiar landmarks like Starbucks, McDonalds and Borders Book stores. But there are enough exotic things to interest someone who is loosely committed to a blog.
For example:
...Notice, no knives.
Singapore is an island, and I haven’t seen the ocean yet. I suppose I would have had I been vacationing, but who knows I might have gone to the Grand Canyon instead. No ocean there either. Before I was offered this job I had no real idea where Singapore was or what it was famous for, besides the obvious Singapore Sling. All I knew was that it hung down off some Asian landmass and Dorothy Lamoure played Bing and Bob like a couple saps here. The Singapore Sling was invented at the long bar in the Raffles Hotel. Anyone who knows anything about exotic (girl) drinks will tell you that that’s just one theory. Right Mark? In fact if you google it you’ll find its history before you find the recipe. (But, don’t do it right now, I still have more to say.)
My take on it is, if you want to seriously discuss the origin of the Singapore Sling there had better be one in front of me. So all the drunk historians eventually find their way to the Raffles Hotel and order up one of these babies. They are delicious little suckers, the sling; made out of walnuts and hand cream with just a touch of gin, as far as I know. They are so popular at the Raffles long bar that they have the stuff coming out of taps like water. I saw the bartender make, like, fifty at once. The tourists all take pictures of eachother holding up their drinks. There are so many cameras flashing you’d think the drink was some kind of movie star or something. Here’s my picture:
Sorry, no flash on my camera phone. I feel so left out!
I’m so proud to live in a town that has a drink named after it. It’s a new experience for me. I'm finally on par with my former college roommate from Long Island. He always said that on Long Island they called them “Ice Teas.” I think he was full of it. By the way, no one calls them “slings” around here. The few locals that I’ve talked to about the drink won’t have anything to do with them. They cost too much. $19 a pop! And they’re gone in one sip!! Dang!
The few locals that I know don’t really drink. (Granted, no one drinks like a WASP) But, I don’t blame them. A case of Guinness Stout costs $89.55! That’s marked down from $97.90. That’s $60 US. Now go picture the woman who cleaned my house for $7 per hour. That’s like three beers an hour. If all you did was work and drink beer, (Chuck) you couldn’t even come out even. Imagine the fix you'd be in if you cleaned with beer!
finally,
I'm sorry gecko.
I guess I should check the door
before I close it.
Next time...
Feah! who knows.
Any requests?
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]