Text 20051, 108 rader
Skriven 2009-01-24 14:01:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 116
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The Terminal 3 transit hotel is brand spanking new; though
the corridors are spartan, the rooms are pleasantly if plainly
appointed, and I hardly minded that the curtain in mine
opened onto a blank wall. The air conditioning is noisy but
super effective, and the bathroom is nicely done. The big
minus is that Internet costs $8 an hour, whereas you can
get it for free outside, which is what I did.

The main advantage to staying inside the airport when one
lands in the wee hours is that one doesn't have to truck into
town in the dark and check in to an expensive hotel for just
a few hours (or, for the cheap ones that Glen uses, there
might not even be anyone at the front desk, and the door may
well be locked). Just bundle oneself into the transit hotel
and get a decent night's sleep.

Went shopping for cards and stuff in Terminal 2, where I
know where everything is, and then finally headed out.

The guy at deserted T2 immigration didn't wonder at all
why I was 10 hours late leaving the airport.

The MRT to the city ran smoothly. I got out at Outram
Park and decided to walk the mile to the hotel and find
lunch on the way. I'm glad I did.

#3 Crab Delicacy Seafood House, 265 I think Outram Rd.
This place is famous for, as the name would suggest, curry
crab; but as I was alone, I just had a couple interesting
snacks from the menu: fried pigeon was crisp and a little
overcooked but had a hit of ginger in addition to the usual
five-spice. It was served with lime juice mixed with a
little Thai fish sauce (or was it a carryover from the
seafood?). My other course was a small order, two dozen,
steamed whelks of a variety I was unfamilar with. A few
seemed a little bitter, but the rest had that nice almost
clammy taste that good snails have.

From there it was a hop, skip, and jump to the Holiday Inn
Atrium; unfortunately, one of the skips was over the Seng
Poh-Outram-Zion intersection, where there's a ditch around
the roundabout and no safe crossing unless you take a big
detour. I resolved that henceforth I'd drop the 3.60 on a
taxi from the train. Dropped off my bags and showered, then
took a stroll down the river: the upper reaches here (west
of Robertson Quay) have changed quite a lot since I last
walked along them about 8 years ago. In fact, there's
development everywhere. Despite (or because of?) the fact
that 1 in 3 Singaporeans thinks s/he may lose his or her
job (according to the Straits Times of the day before), the
construction biz continues apace. Some of the places I used
to visit are pretty unrecognizable.

Wended my way up to Little India and the Banana Leaf Apolo,
where I rendezvoused with friends Glen and Pat.

The problem with places like this and small groups is that
everything on the menu sounds so good; the inevitable result -
despite our knowing what was going to happen: way too much food!

We ordered a conservative meal, based on the preference of
the ladies for milder spicing. For heat I contented myself
with munching on the chiles found buried in the eggplant.

Vegetable samosas were just what you'd expect but better
than usual; fried marinated prawns were cooked somewhat
hard - good for those who, like me, eat the shells and
heads, but not so good for the meat, and coated in a besan
batter heavy on the turmeric - a different treatment that
might go well with a less delicate meat.

Things that come with: excellent papadums; a fine cabbage
curry that this time was less spicy than usual but with
more asafetida; a second curry, in past experience a dal,
but this time zucchini and eggplant in tomato; rice.

Pat wanted garlic naan, which is fine, because it's quite
good here, but the waiter tried to upsell us to three. We
compromised on two, but one would have been plenty.

Mutton korma was mild, creamy, and yummy, but my companions'
enjoyment was dampened by the use of a very bony cut,
despite the menu's claim that filet would be offered.

Chicken in coconut curry was equally yummy but better
received, as boneless tenders were used.

My choice was baingan bharta, of which I am very fond. This
version was shot full of onions in varying states of
cookedness and was quite different from what I am accustomed
to (but good). It brought the table to "way too much food."

The noise level of the restaurant increased as we sat, owing
largely to a big influx of tourists, and after conversation
became difficult and started focusing on an unflattering
characterization of American dining habits, we left and took
a wander through Little India in the dark. I did this for
the chivalry aspect and the exercise aspect but wasn't so
interesting in the shopping aspect, except that I found 
Breda Royal Lager (the label implies that it comes from
Holland, but the only actual statement of origin is that
it's from the EU) at the 7-Eleven. I'd never tasted it, so I
got one. Very malty - this tasted rather like non-alcoholic
beer with vodka in it. I'm not sure if I liked it or not.

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