NOTE: I recommend you turn up the brightness on your computer screen - the pictures are kind of dark. Also, remember that you can click on the pictures to make them bigger.
It's amazing how much differently you experience a city when you're aimless and alone. Today, I went souvenir shopping in Chinatown with a group of friends. Around 6:30, they decided to head to Little India for dinner, but I wasn't hungry, so I decided to head back to the dorm.
At first, I felt odd being alone. I didn't want to go straight back to the dorm: I was out and about, and it felt like a shame to simply return to my room and close myself in. I didn't know what to do, though - I wasn't hungry, I didn't have a notebook or a book, or anything to use as an excuse for just sitting down somewhere. So I walked towards the metro station and decided that if I saw something worth seeing, I'd stop. Soon, I embraced the idea of rambling aimlessly, and I felt it embrace me, and it actually felt relieving to not have to keep up a conversation or worry about negotiating the next destination. It's amazing how much more you see when you're not focused on the people you're with.
I came to the riverfront (remember the pictures from a few posts ago?) and looked around. Which way to go? To my right, the newly-constructed, just-opened-yesterday Marina Bay Sands resort (the three buildings with the giant ship on top of them - see: Day Four: Scavenger Hunt, Part II) stood against the mauve-streaked sky. The river glistened like melted pennies, and the buildings of the colonial district (see: Tuesday, the 8th: Parts I & II) peeked out from the opposite bank.
I took an underpass tunnel to my left to cross under a busy road. An old, bearded man sat on a seat inside, playing some sort of flute. For a moment, his wistful, melancholy airs were the only sound, and it was like the city outside the underpass ceased to be.
Then I emerged on the other side of the road, now opposite Clarke Quay (my favorite place ever - because of its name, of course). The sun was setting behind the skyscrapers and pastel storefronts, and the indigo clouds twinkled with gold and pink splashes. There were people everywhere: waterside restaurants buzzed with early evening guests, corny music played over sporadically placed speakers, people screamed as the Reverse Bungy (see upper-right corner of the picture below) catapulted them into the air. People lined the quay, watching the bungy riders and waving at the tour boats as they passed.
There were families, couples, friends, loners, locals, tourists, expats, Chinese, Caucasians, Indians, Malays, adults, children, and everything in between sitting on the concrete steps leading up from the water. Some were reading, some were talking, some were photographing with big, trendy cameras, and some were just sitting, like me. Both sides of the river were teeming with conviviality and that warm, orangey-pink feeling that always seems to accompany waterside sunsets.
The weather was perfect - humidity was low and there was the subtlest of breezes. It was the kind of warm that's so pleasant, you don't even notice it unless you make a point to think about it. Two Chinese women next to me snapped pictures of themselves with their phones. An Indian couple on my right shared a meal and waved at the people on the tour boats. A young, trendy Chinese guy in skinny jeans and wielding an SLR kept repositioning himself and peering through his lens. Two little girls talked and giggled, teasing each other. A 30-something white man sat reading a book, looking up from time to time.
This was the backdrop, and it was more than romantic - even for a single guy all by himself. It was mellow and peaceful at the same time that it was lively and vibrant. It was soft and warm and welcoming, like a kind smile or a hand on your back.
And this is when I definitively fell in love with Singapore.
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