Singapore
John looks down the long, brightly lit Orchid Road. He gaze is long, lost in the crowds of people and Christmas celebrations. The day has been long for us - we woke at 5am after four hours sleep, flew to Auckland, and flew another 12 hours to Singapore. It's a long time without a constant stream of movies.
We've come from the spices of 'Little India' - a couple of low boarded houses and shop fronts - and an ice cold Tiger beer, refreshing as the sweat hangs off our skin. Tacky toys and flashing cameras in Chinatown follow, the equally fake mosaic,but the grimy street food embodies some of the people working here. Elderly men, smoking, sift around, watching the line dancers bouncing through the Christmas celebrations.
Back to Orchid and the crowds of people laugh and smile against the backdrop of office buildings and shiny brand names. It's curious, Singapore, apartment blocks and office towers everywhere - the population and small size of the island demand it - shopping malls, food outlets, and perfectly manicured streets. But somehow, something is missing, a flawless society in need of some flaws.
At the airport I have a dream. It is 3am and I'm being woken from the floor of Changi Airport. No one is around. Two men blankly stare at me, holding MP5 sub machine guns, another asks for my boarding pass. They don't flinch as I glare back at them, continuing on, sweeping the airport once more. Except, we are the only people. There is no one else around.
I wake up. I am in Manila.
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