Singapore Redux

Sunday 11 September 2011

Singapore Redux

Hello, Friends!

Singapore sucks, if you're poor.

My first brush with the city was as a 22-year-old who was sent to The Arts House at the Old Parliament to represent my Manila-based theatre company in a series of workshops that had mostly people who were twice - thrice - my age. The topics were esoteric and the diction, even more so. I was asleep throughout more than half it, which was awesome. It more than made up for my sleep deficit throughout uni.

I had zero money - and zero is, like, nothing - so I had no means of entertaining myself after the workshops. My meals were cup noodles that I had dutifully crammed into my luggage. Well done, me! I had prepped myself well. At least I was billetted in a swish hotel that had a nice gym, sauna and pool. Snobbish digs, pauper eats - made me feel like a proper artiste, honestly! I was living life like a character in RENT - it was so glam!

So although Singapore seemed pretty sterile to me back then, it wasn't necessarily such a bad thing. I marvelled at the people's discipline with keeping their city germ-free. I mean, I could eat my cup noodles off of the pavement, if I chose to - that's how clean it was.

Luckily one of my very best friends in the entire world, Ryan, lives in Singapore. One night, Ryan and I went out to, well, go clubbing. Even in Manila, clubbing wasn't really my thing. Honestly, I preferred to entertain myself with quickies under Gonzaga Hall chapel's staircase whilst my classmates got drunk or whatever in Il Ponticello, or just Ponti for short. But when one of my good friends, Frankie, heard that I was gonna go to Singapore, she pressed a tiny disk into my palm.

"Valium," she whispered, eyes darting about. "Take it before you go clubbing in Singapore. You're gonna have so much fun," she promised.

And so, there I was with Ryan in a gay disco called Happy. Back then, Happy had just been named "Singapore's Hottest Nightspot" by Wallpaper* Magazine, so it instantly appealed to the pretentious person inside of me. Of course I popped the pill just before I left my hotel. And by the time Ryan and I got to Happy, the club's pink "h" logo, which looked like bunny ears, had become full-fledged rabbits before my eyes. They were vibrating, jumping, fornicating. Shit, this Valium stuff is awesome! But dammit! I couldn't stand up "straight." Get it? Ha, ha...

We didn't stay long in Happy because I was so... well, happy. So Ryan took me to Towel Club, instead - a sauna. The receptionist was a young boy wearing a singlet. He looked like he should be skinny, except he had terrifically bloated biceps and pecs. How that happened - and if the vision were still just an effect of the pill - I couldn't honestly tell. Anyway, we were refused entry because neither Ryan nor I had a membership. The twinky-huge receptionist asked to see my passport, which I had left it in my hotel room. Of course.

"They sometimes fear that they're gonna get raided by cops," Ryan explained. I hadn't realized until then that bumfun between men was illegal in Singapore. How could it be wrong when it feel so right?

So Ryan and I ended up just having a Coke at the 7-11 close to my hotel, then said our goodbyes shortly afterwards.

I've gone back to Singapore a number of times since then. Thank goodness I've discovered more of the city's charms now that I'm older and with a little bit more pocket money to burn, natch. I do love the hawker centres! I love me a knock-your-palate-out-sweet Kaya toast; a huge bowl of super-hot, flavoursome seafood laksa; icy desserts - everything!

And so when my friend, Johan, prefixed his Singapore group trip invite with "WE WILL FEAST," I was hooked.

Singapore, The Hyperactive Gay Boy™ is back.

With Affection,
James