Singapore
It’s almost dark here in Singapore and yet it’s still wonderfully warm and only slightly humid. It’s an absolutely perfect evening. And now that I’ve sampled The Long Bar and the famous Singapore Sling, I’m keen to explore everything the city has to offer. First up is The Gardens by the Bay and what can I say? It’s a flood-lit feast for the eyes. A veritable fantasyland.
There are enormous structures and exotic themed spaces and a giant bio-dome that looks like it’s floating in mid-air. There are art sculptures everywhere and dozens of ‘super trees’ that are not trees at all but man-made vertical gardens stretching up to fifty metres tall. As the sun disappears, the whole place is starting to light up like it’s Christmastime at Disneyland.
I amble along the undulating pathways through the park, enjoying the ambient atmosphere and inhaling deliciously tempting wafts of food floating on the sultry air. Unable to resist for any longer, I buy a carton of spicy noodles from a vendor and sit on a wooden bench to eat my meal with chopsticks while I gaze around me in wonder at the sparkling lights. It’s difficult to comprehend the reality of where I am right now and where I was just one week ago, which was sitting on a wall in Rishikesh, overlooking the Ganges. Right now, I could be on another planet entirely.
In an hour or so, I’m told the whole of the gardens will be enveloped in a nightly musical extravaganza called the Garden Rhapsody Show. Having already witnessed the equivalent in Hong Kong with the Symphony of Lights Show, it’s something I don’t want to miss. So, happily, I spend the next hour strolling through the spectacularly lit gardens, before making my way across the dragonfly bridge to Marina Bay with its iconic feature: The Marina Bay Sands Hotel. It’s quite distinct because it looks like three tall towers with a boat-shaped top, as if a ship sailed across the bay and ran aground on top of the buildings. I’m told there are restaurants, bars and an infinity swimming pool up there for those who wish to swim in the sky.
Gazing up at the boat-like structure makes me think of Henri once again. He’s now more than three hours into his race and it’s almost dark.
I wonder how he’s feeling right now. I imagine him standing at the helm of his boat, steering through great waves, and once again I marvel at his courage and the bravery of all his crew.
I stroll along the marina waterfront promenade and see that children are still running in and out of the fountains. Romantic couples are walking arm in arm. Foreign tourists with impressive cameras are taking photographs of the very last rays of the sun going down on a far horizon. All along this stretch of promenade, on the paved areas beneath streetlights, under the elevated walkways and on the grassy areas down by the waterfront, there are people on mats practicing various strains of yoga and martial arts.
Some are doing power vinyasas – almost like a chakra dance – set to music. Some are doing zen yoga wearing headphones to cancel out any distractions. There’s also a Tai Chi class, which causes me to pause so I can sit on a bench to watch.
The master is an old Chinese man and he’s small, light, and lithe in his movement, quite different in his presentation when compared to Henri’s precisely focussed poses and power stances. But I’m mesmerised and when the whole class performs The White Crane Spreads His Wings, looking like silhouetted statues against the darkening sky, I find I’m so choked up with emotion I can’t stop tears from brimming in my eyes.
I blow my nose and decide to retreat. The park is getting so much busier and the crowds are making me feel stifled. I walk through the gardens slowly, catching glimpses of the light show going on all around, but feeling increasingly trapped in the bustling masses.
* * *
I get back to my room at Raffles around 8pm and order a club sandwich and a bottle of wine from room service. As I grazed on noodles and ice cream this afternoon, I really don’t have the appetite to sample the fine dining in the restaurant tonight.
I flick on the TV again hoping to catch any updates on the boat race, but I end up idly watching a travel programme showing tropical destinations favoured by Singaporeans for holiday getaways and weekend jaunts. I had no idea there were so many beautiful tropical island paradises just a stone’s throw across the water in Indonesia. All look unspoiled and idyllic with white-sand beaches, swaying palm trees and the bluest waters you could ever hope to see. Some of these islands have lush five-star hotels on them and vast freestyle swimming pools. Others are tiny tropical atolls with private villas, inaccessible except for those who are lucky enough to have their own boat or small private plane, and therefore remain the exclusive weekend lairs of the jetsetters.
Henri told me he liked to take his boat out to far-flung tropical islands and out-of-the-way places in order to discover real peace and quiet. The kind of places where he could take a book and a bottle of rum and sit on the sand pretending to be a castaway for the day. It all sounds to me like a very decadent and exotic way to live one’s life. An hour or so later, halfway down my bottle of wine, I flick through the channels again.
I watch an old movie – it’s not quite as good as I remembered – and then I fall asleep.
I dream of Jon once more, but this time, he isn’t holding out his arms to beckon me into his loving embrace or to twirl me around an imaginary ballroom in a blissful waltz. This time he’s standing in the distance, in a swirling white mist, smiling, waving to me, and blowing me a kiss. I can hear his voice clearly and I distinctly hear him telling me to be happy.
In my dream, I’m distraught and running to try to reach him because I sense he’s saying goodbye to me and that I might never see him again. But it feels like I’m running on a treadmill and getting nowhere while Jon is still smiling and waving until he turns away.
I call out to him. I beg him to stop and wait for me. But my voice is mute, and despite my desperate efforts, I never get any closer to him.
When he steps back into the enveloping mist with a final smile and a wave, I know in my heart that he’s letting me go, and I wake up to find I’ve been crying in my sleep.
He’s still here in my heart, I tell myself. Still safely here in my heart.
* * *
I attend a sunrise meditation and ashtanga yoga session in the hotel’s courtyard to clear my mind, stretch my body, and feel better. With my spirits lifted, I enjoy a delicious breakfast of coffee, juice, and eggs benedict. Afterwards, I set out with even greater determination on my mission to see and experience Singapore.
According to my itinerary, the first stop is, Shopping on Orchard Road.
For a shopaholic, this would have been a paradise: big, bawdy and lined with modern shopping malls. It really is – as a poster I spot claims – where the world comes to shop. I’m pretty sure you could buy anything your heart desired and at great expense.
But I’m not a shopaholic and I’m not that impressed. I browse but resist buying anything.
The next Post-it note is Chinatown’s Street Market which sounds more like my kind of thing. Chinatown is said to be ‘Original Singapore’ so I’m hoping to find suitable gifts here for Pia and my little nieces. I buy a couple of beautiful silk scarves and some small lacquered trinket boxes, a handcrafted bamboo handbag and two silk fans with my niece’s names on them in calligraphy. Okay. Shopping done and my second mission is a success.
I head down to the quayside. The next Post-it note states: A boat ride down the Singapore River. I’d spoken to the concierge at my hotel for advice on this trip before I set out. There were several options but the recommendation was to go for rustic charm and a river cruise on a ‘bumboat’. A bumboat is, I think, the Singaporean equivalent of Hong Kong’s Star Ferries.
At Clarke Quay Jetty, where I can board one of these boats, I’m told to look out for the statue of Sir Stamford Raffles on the spot where the namesake of the Raffles Hotel and the founder of modern-day Singapore first set foot. I make sure to take a photo of him and I enjoy the cruise. The boat isn’t overcrowded, and it’s nice to sit at the back in the sunshine to catch the breeze off the water. The boat is electric and so it’s a peaceful and relaxing river experience – a wonderful way to see the sights from a different perspective – and I take lots and lots of photos. But an hour later, with Jon’s itinerary completed in a timely and, what feels like dutiful, manner, I’m keen to get out of the heat and the sun.
Looking for shade and a more cultural experience I head out to explore one or two of Singapore’s many wonderful museums and art galleries. I stop for lunch along the way, but purposely avoid all those eateries that are busy with tourists even though I’m a tourist myself. I’m more than happy to find a tiny Malaysian café in an almost hidden alcove that appeals to me because it looks like something I would have found in the back streets of Hong Kong.
Inside, there are exposed brick walls and less than a dozen small tables with carved wooden chairs offering comfortable silk cushion seating. Only about half the tables are taken with diners and I’m immediately shown to a table for one in the corner.
The place has the vibe of a casual but chic secret city hangout. I immediately love it and I’m surprised when my first thought in browsing the menu is that Henri would have loved this too.
I order Nasi Lemak, a delicious and traditional spicy dish bursting with flavour served with rice and chilli sauce on a banana leaf. Having my food served on a banana leaf reminds me of meals in the ashram and I find myself smiling at the recent memory.
After lunch, I stroll around for several hours in the cool air-conditioned ambiance of the National Museum. It’s interesting to learn the fascinating history of this island city from the fourteenth century to present day. I follow this up with a visit to the nearby National Art Gallery, housed in a grand neo-classical building that was once City Hall. It’s wonderful.
And that’s my busy day. Adventurous. Accomplished. Successful. Interesting.
But it also felt futile, pointless and lonely. So much so that I now question, what on earth am I doing here?
I certainly hadn’t felt this way while I’d been exploring Hong Kong.
So what’s different? I decide that it’s two things.
The first is that Jon is no longer by my side spiritually. I just can’t feel his presence anymore.
Until today, I could feel him with me every moment of every day. Guiding me. Supporting me. Looking out for me and caring for me. Sometimes I could even almost hear his voice, his laughter, and his encouragement. But I woke up this morning knowing for sure he’s gone. Had he just been hanging around like a guardian angel until I knew my own mind again?
Because that’s the second thing. I woke up this morning feeling upset but also reenergised.
I feel like a different and braver person today. I feel positive, calm.
I feel like I’m breathing properly and I’m thinking about life rather than death, as though a fog has cleared.
I’m seeing things clearly for the first time since the day of my wedding.
And in that clarity, I’ve come to a happy decision.
Singapore is a beautiful city, but it doesn’t make me feel happy in the way Hong Kong does.
So I’ve decided I’m going to kick back and be rebellious again.
I’ve broken my own rules before and today I think I should do it again.
Since arriving here in Singapore, I’ve been racing around like a crazy person, trying to tick off specific tourist destinations while missing out on almost everything else. I haven’t really been enjoying myself. So why am I following this plan and all these notes?
Setting out on Jon’s quest had seemed the right thing to do at the time and, of course, I’m grateful the plans led me to Henri, but now it’s not Jon to whom I feel connected and it’s not his words on repeat in my head.
It’s Henri’s words that haunt me now.
So I’ve decided that I’m going to cancel my flight tomorrow morning after all. I’m not going to Kuala Lumpur to dutifully tick off any more sights and places. I’m not going to travel to Penang just to eat meals and have drinks. I’m not following a nostalgic and redundant honeymoon itinerary. I’m going to stay here instead. I’m going to gamble and take a risk.
I’m going to meet Henri when he sails into Singapore harbour tomorrow.
I take a taxi back to Raffles with a silly smile on my face and, once back in my beautiful suite, I fully appreciate the cool, orderly, and distinguished ambience of a room that yesterday felt like a gilded cage to me. I make myself a gin and tonic from the mini-bar and sit outside on my terrace in the afternoon shade. I check the time on my phone.
It’s early evening. Henri has been sailing for twenty-six hours now.
I reckon he has perhaps another fourteen hours to go before he’ll sail into safe harbour. With my heart swelling with excitement at seeing him again, I try to imagine him out there right now on the sea, hundreds of miles away from land in either direction, having faith in himself and his crew, and bravely taking a chance on the possibility of victory. I see Henri’s brave quest as a fine metaphor for taking a chance in life and winning.