Arriving in Singapore after a 5-hour flight and there is a
palpable difference in temperature and humidity. There’s a constant film of sweat on my face
and arms and a distinct smell of mushrooms in the flat we’re in belonging to
Pat Murphy. She’s a lecturer in
film-making at one of the colleges here.
From Ireland, Pat is a follower of Ringu Tulku Rinpoche and her flat is
full of books on Buddhism. In her
bedroom is a small shrine and pictures of various deities.
In the compound there are flats belonging or more probably
rented by ex-pats. At the centre is a
large outdoor swimming pool the water of which is warm and inviting. I’m in there quickly to get cooled down.
Getting around the city seems complicated with lots of
highways and districts to cover in the two-weeks we’re here. We are in the western enclave of Tanglin, a
very twee spot to be in without wheels. Taxis
to the rescue. After driving around Oz
for a couple of months I do miss the freedom of riding in a vehicle. On the other hand, driving here is crazy, but
not as crazy as other places I’ve been. Buildings are a surprise, ultra-modern malls, most of them
called plazas which puts me in mind
of a dance hall by that name up in Eglinton Toll in Glasgow where some suburban ladies from south came for rough trade.
 |
| CITY SKYLINE |
