Archives for the month of: November, 2013

Old Mobile Phone

It’s been over a week without a phone. I’m coping. I’m not sure if others are.

1) No ‘Where Are You’ messages.

People don’t know where I am! Maybe I’ll arrive at the station on time. Maybe not. They have no way of knowing and I have no way of putting them out of their misery. Put it this way: I’m adding drama to their lives.

2) No Podcasts.

Hurrah! I’m a citizen of Ireland again, listening to Morning Ireland, George Hook and Arena. Instead of interesting shows from the UK and the US, it’s back to living in the goldfish bowl that is Irish media. Boy, will I have a backlog to get through when I finally get a new phone.

3) The constant need to update my status on Twitter all the goddamn time has greatly diminished.

So many pithy thoughts lost to posterity. You’re so upset, I can tell.

4) Photographs, of which I have none.

A whole haystack went on fire yesterday morning right beside the house. A transformer exploded near the house a few days earlier. Both incidences were as dramatic as you get in this part of the world. We even had fire engines. And what evidence do I have of these momentous occurrences? Nothing. I’ll show you a picture of the scorchings instead over the coming days. It’ll be almost like witnessing the real thing. Almost.

5) Remembering things is fun.

It’s amazing the extent to which I have left the phone organise my life. Without it, every deadline is a bit of a guess. I’m now reliant on people looking angrily at me. I so wish there was a button I could press to stop people looking like that. A Happy Face Button – there you go now. Who wants to invent that for me?

6) Back to using Voicemail.

Did I tell you I hated voicemail? Back in the halcyon smartphone days, I could safely avoid it for weeks on end. Now, it is one of the only ways I can be contacted. “Press 3, then 5, then 1 to continue. At the tone, enter your passcode then press hash. Sorry, please enter that 10 digit code again. Sorry, invalid response. Please try again later”. The designers of voicemail are as close to pure, unrestrained evil as you will find in the world today.

Life should return to relative normality next week. If not, please don’t try to find me and above all, please, please, don’t leave me a voicemail.

Nothing much to report about my last day in Singapore as it was all a big rush to make a police statement about the phone, then pack and get to the airport. As ever, people were super friendly. I’m missing it already.

I saw three movies on board:

World War Z: I wasn’t gone on the first part of the film (any horror flick involving kids always seems dreadfully manipulative), but I got hugely into it. Stunning scenes, particularly the wall breach in Jerusalem. This being an airplane movie, Singapore Airlines cut the scene on the jet. Aww.

Red 2: Awful shite. Helen Mirren, John Malkovich and Anthony Hopkins, how could you? Did you need the money to pay off a drug debt? Did you even read the script in advance?

Man of Steel: So it’s 2013, and the saviour of the human race is still a tall good looking white American guy with great pecks and great teeth. Plus ça change. A rehash of the 1980s’ Superman 2 film, now with whizz bang graphics and Dolby sound effects. Visually spectacular – particularly the spacecraft scenes – but the endless fighting and boo-hoo nostalgia ruined it for me.

Is may be just me, but I think CGI has ruined Hollywood.

Today I managed to get to see much more of the city, taking in Chinatown, the Harbour Front Centre and the Singapore River as part of an evening on the town. 

Chinatown left an impression. It’s a large district of the town, with a diverse food market in the centre. The sights and smells make it a must see. Talking of smells, I got to whiff the delightful odours of the Durian Fruit today (they make pancakes from it). It’s pretty overwhelming. The fruit is not permitted aboard local trains and busses because of its pungency. We also passed by the Sri Mariamman temple – an amazing building in the centre of Chinatown. Close by is the Buddha Tooth Relic, which contains pretty much what it says on the tin.

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Speaking of trains, the Singapore MRT (Mass Rail Transit) system is pretty amazing. Hyper-clean, efficient and railed off by screens to avoid anyone getting too close to the tracks. There are signs on the floor telling people where to stand when alighting the train. The toll gates instantaneously calculate your fare based on the distance travelled – it’s completely cashless and based on a card top-up process. It’s also one big public service announcement, with signs telling people the fines for bringing food and drink onto the trains, or asking people to give up their seat for people in need. 

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It must be one of the only cities in the world where you don’t see people begging. Maybe I was in the wrong places, but I didn’t come across any vagrancy at all – not even packs of teenagers parading their boredom and weltschmertz for all to see. Everyone seems polite, well dressed and civic minded, even the kids. Added to that I saw no stray cats or dogs. Even mosquitos are a rarity in a country that’s only a few miles from the equator.

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We went to the Harbour Front shopping centre for the evening. Across the strait was Sentosa Island, a theme-park / leisure area for the city. It’s connected by cable car and sky-train monorail. The shops are already bedecked with Christmas decorations. I have to say it’s an incongruous and strange sight when the temperature outside is a muggy 30 degrees. From our vantage point in the Queen and Mangosteen pub, we were treated to a wonderful lightning show – no sounds, just regular darts of electricity illuminating the sky.

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It was also the first time I was able to appreciate the Singaporean accent. To my untrained ear, it sounds a little like the Mauritian accent – a mixture of English and other regional accents. 

Finally, we ended up in a bar on Boat Quay just across the river from the Asian Civilisations Museum. We were all quite tired then, so we quickly made our move back to the hotel – the conclusion of our last night in Singapore.

Still no sign of the phone. I’ve no idea where it might have gone. The hotel are doing an investigation, but I am now doubtful anything will turn up. 

All the pity, because we ended up in downtown Singapore last night but I have no photos to post up. We were in a bar / restaurant called La Terrazo, near Chinatown. The area is full of bars and clubs and there was a buzz to the place. It reminded me somewhat of Chicago. Apart from the low houses in this area itself, it’s all modern skyscrapers. Singapore is a high-rise society. Almost everyone lives in a government funded apartment, the cost of which, even subsidised, can be enormous.

Everyone talks about the government here too. The taxi-driver yesterday morning couldn’t stop talking about the government all the way to our destination. According to the BBC, Singapore tops the tables for so many important things: low crime rate, education, health, low corruption – yet has some of the unhappiest people in the world.

Singapore also is one of the biggest cities for gambling in the world, surprisingly close in annual revenues to Las Vegas. Singaporeans themselves are discouraged from gambling and have to pay 100 dollars per night for the privilege of attending a casino.

Many of the expats I have spoken to here love the place. The reason they commonly cite is its centrality. It’s only a short plane ride from Bali, Vietnam, Indonesia and Thailand. Kuala Lumpur is only a few hours up the road. It’s terrific for those of a certain age who want to see the world. 

Tomorrow is my last day here. How time flies.

Oh Christ. No photos tonight. I’ve lost my phone. I’m not sure if I misplaced it in the taxi on the way to work or in the hotel somewhere. It might even be at work, but so far no sign of it anywhere. I’m experiencing withdrawal systems.

Other than this, today went ok. Lots of work again, but a nice meal in the evening in the centre of Singapore. This time we ate at the Crystal Jade Korean Ginseng restaurant in the plush Ngee Ann City shopping centre. I have a love of Asian dumpling soup, so I was in seventh heaven.

What is it about Singaporean taxi drivers? Last night, we were just a little tardy getting into our taxi and before we knew it the car had driven away – a cloud of black smoke in its wake.  The driver was clearly annoyed that we had tried his patience so much. Today we took a cab with a driver who clearly preferred the delights of Siberia to the humidity of Singapore. The cab was absolutely freezing inside. We were delighted to get back to the hotel, so we could start to get circulation back into our hands and feet.

I can’t get over the friendliness of the people here. Everyone I have met is so willing to help. Their attention to detail is impressive too. When I was asking about my iPhone, the receptionist I had given my details to needed to server another customer, whereupon the other receptionist got involved seamlessly, as if they had both communicated telepathically.

Jetlag is having its effect tonight. I’m wrecked now. I’ll be up early tomorrow to put the finishing touches to my presentation tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll hear some good news about my phone.

ImageI’m staying in a posh hotel near the city centre, and as might be expected, the breakfast was out of this world. Every possible breakfast dish from every possible corner of the world seemed to be on offer. I so wanted to stay and eat and get fat and eat more and get fatter.

The traffic was quite light, even at rush hour. Apparently there is a strict limit on the number of cars in the city, and in any case, you pay through the nose for the privilege of owning one. 

Housing is also highly regulated. Even the ethnic composition of each apartment is monitored, in order to avoid ghettoisation. It’s a curious place. 

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Not a huge amount to report for most of today, as I was stuck in a windowless room for most of the working day. It passed by quickly though, and we ended up eating at Mellben seafood restaurant, not too far from the office. The food was delicious. Crabs and prawns and noodles and scallops and more crabs and more noodles. Scrumptious. You would not want to be on a diet. A sign inside the restaurant told us we needed to keep quiet after 10 am, as the noise was problematic for the neighbours. That was us told. 

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First time on an A380! Such a quiet take-off too.

The amount of space you have is enormous. Zillions of TV channels and noise-suppression earphones as standard.

The Singapore Airlines staff could not have been nicer. Very pleasant, helpful staff. Their reputation for friendliness is well deserved.

And the veal dish. Oh my. Melting in your mouth like chocolate…

No turbulence on route, but no view either as lights were down and most people slept through the night. I stayed awake reading a book for most of it. Better to go to bed tired than wide awake.

I watched Pacific Rim en-route. It’s all AARGH and BAAH and RAAR. Did these actors have to shout their way through the movie? Could they not have whispered to balance things up, as it were?

We left Heathrow at sunset and arrived at sunset in Singapore. The plane routed via Russia, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, then south of the Himalayas. I caught a brief glimpse of the mountains en-route.

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No big delays on arrival. Taxi driver was a bit mad though. He also wanted us to pay him in cash – which was a problem. The hotel sorted us out.

Got to my room and had the Best Bath Ever. This could become a habit.

Just as London has Big Ben, and Paris the Eiffel Tower, Cork has Shandon Church. This modest chapel, by no means the largest or most ornate church in Cork, is by far the most emblematic.

I found myself in Cork very early one morning last September. Having a few hours to waste before work, I headed towards St Anne’s Church in an attempt to understand its enigmatic hold over the city.

St Anne’s dates from 1722, its famous bells installed in 1750, it’s clock mechanism a hundred years later. The church is built of red sandstone and white limestone, which have come to represent the colours of Cork City and county. The clock faces, notoriously inaccurate, have given the church its nickname ‘The Four Faced Liar’*.  The large gold-plated salmon, ‘de goldie fish’, on the top is a nod to Cork’s booming salmon industry of the time. Situated a short distance north of the River Lee and a stone’s throw from Cork’s North Cathedral, the narrow streets and alleys around it are a throwback to earlier times. The Butter Museum and the Firkin Crane theatre, Cork’s home of dance, rests in its shadow.

Because of its centrality, its central position and its idiosyncratic design, Shandon is the true heart of Cork City. While the city itself has gone through a transformation in the last few years, with glass and polished marble growing up where dowdy brick and concrete buildings once stood, this symbol of Cork’s heritage remains unchallenged.

Shandon Panorama

* This is the name of a famous Irish pub in New York City, which in turn became the name of a 2010 award winning independent movie.