Secret Royalty On Tour

Waking up on a non-significant birthday, alone in Singapore on a muggy early morning, was more than fine by me.

It was a day of possibilities in a life that remains studded with them. And I think that’s about the best outcome I can ever ask for, whatever number I’m quietly ticking over.

Perplexity and I worked on a walking itinerary. My brief: art, architecture, some history, some commerce and a rooftop bar suitable for a woman alone.

The itinerary disintegrated, of course, around 30 minutes after I started wading through the muggy 30-degree soup. So I reverted to my favourite travel sport: watching people watch whatever they think is interesting.

I saw some extraordinary art and some I was less inclined to like, some ambitious architecture that hit the mark. I saw a lot of dewy caramel-coloured skin. I saw manners and kindness, people getting on quite well, thank you very much.

I asked a few different Singaporeans about their lives. They said they loved their country and felt happy to feel safe. I found that fascinating, how safety has quietly become the new cornerstone of happiness.

Then the monsoon rains swept in, so I ducked into a very conveniently placed grand hotel for a glass of something with bubbles. Waiting for a cab by the lobby afterwards, I watched a parade of stealth wealth slip by, big black vans with shiny people inside. Then my cab arrived, emblazoned with advertising for Beauty and the Beast. So good and so completely incongruous. I guess this made me the Beast of The Fullerton Hotel.

Earlier in the morning, I read a sculpture description that summed up the day for me, the wandering, the lack of pressure, the gentle pleasure of going nowhere in particular:

“The freedom to come and go at will is a graceful flow of the soul.”

Today had exactly that energy, a slightly damp, mildly chaotic, quietly perfect birthday.