You're Not in Singapore Anymore

What a different a five hour flight makes.

We arrived at midnight in Chennai after the longest flight pattern I've ever traveled. LAX to Taipei, where I was lucky enough in our hour stop to find a Starbucks open at 6:30 AM, hopped back on the plane for a nine hour layover in
Singapore. If Foxwoods is the largest casino out there, Singapore Airport is its sister in size.

From full size gym and swimming pool to XBox center and live Soduko to massage & sleeping lounge to shopping galore, one can keep themselves entertained and fed for hours. Being adventurous types, we cabbed it to town where my traveling companion, Katy Leigh described memories of dancing with the snake charmer at the world famous RAFFLES hotel & long bar twenty years ago at age 8. So, off we headed into a pristine, lush city, where chewing gum is illegal, where garbage is not to be found, and an architectual mish mash of British and Asian culture. Although it was a weekday, the city resembled a ghost town. We found the inhabitants later at the mall where people rushed around shopping for Levis and Nikes. I thought Singapore would be quaint, but maybe I was mixing up my imaginary pre-WWII Asian port cities from movies like "Empire of the Sun" and "Indochine".

Chennai couldn't have been more different.

Bleary eyed and stunned by the hour wait through customs, we were barrelled out to
hundreds of family members and other greeters lining the barriers at the arrival doors to the international terminal. Our driver led us to his "MaxiTaxi" and joined the throngs of vehicles in what seemed to be a late night drag race on the narrow strip towards the outskirts of downtown Chennai. Five cars and/or motorcycles competed to fit into a two lane road, horns at a constant sounding, more for safety issues than for aggravation. "Just letting you know I'm next to you" or "Just letting you know I'm passing you" that sort of warning. The brightly colored trucks and tuk tuks display a painted "Sound Horn" sign on the back as invitation. Even with darkness surrounding us, I kept the window open and took in the energy. Cows lined the sides and medians of the road, trash was swept into piles or tossed to the side of the road, cars and bikes passed each other, people on foot wove in and out of the constantly moving traffic, Bollywood movie signs were tied to palm trees every few yards.

We arrived at the Astok Hotel, a drab little place with lots of men standing around shaking their heads at us. We were not in Los Angeles, nor Singapore any longer.