There is a mystery of traveling that brings an intensity and presence to things that might in our ordinary lives seem, well ordinary.  What would normally be a begrudgened, half blind slap at the blinking, buzzing, evil that summons the monotony of another day, is now somehow, a great admiration of the earliest hours.

The loathsome morning hours generally only tamed by dark swirling caffeinated bliss, instead is seen as a precious glimpse into the untold whispers conversed between the forbidden lovers of dusk and dawn.

The air feels different on your skin, the smells are richer, the colors more deep and vivid,  you get a feeling that anything is possible, and all the rules of your regular life no longer apply.  It was riding that vacation high when I excitedly boarded a boat destine to enjoy the underwater magic this island is known for. Grinning widely it took maybe an hour for the physics of my life to catch up with my enthusiasm.

The day was bright and warm like high noon on a midsummer day back home, even though it was just nearing 9 am here. I closed my eyes enjoying the wind on my face and giggled when the soft warm breeze was replaced by the startling cold wet lashing of the gigantic sheepdog tongue that was the Indian ocean lapping at me from over the side of the boat as we set off.

They took us out to a popular dive spot called Japun. It shared the same name as the cheerful flower offering that sat leading the boat safely through the water.

I normally steer away from any standard touristy locations when I travel, but I have to admit to being decidedly less adventurous when it comes to the water. I swim like an injured bird tangled in fishing line and prefer to be able to gasp deep cool gulps of actual air when I decide to panic, so I have gone sparingly on the water sports in my life thus far.  Climbing into the booties and fins easily, I squeezed my head into a mask so tight that not only was there a water tight seal, but I was pretty sure the suction may actually pull my eyes out of their sockets like those deep sea fish whose eyes literally pop out when they are caught and raised to the surface.

Snorkel in position I took a confident leap of the side of the boat, more because I am a ridiculously competitive person and not actually because I was the least bit reassured by the fact that people 2x my age in either direction were easily swaying through the water. Feeling like I was doing lamaze coaching I repeated ‘slow even breathes’ over and over in my head, and then I forgot.

I didn’t actually forget to breathe, but I did forget to be anxious and hyper vigilant. I was surrounded with a school of fish, literally all around me. They were calm and swaying and seemingly oblivious to my mass within their group. Honesty side note: I did have a national geographic moment remembering how predators will just enter schools of fish with mouths open collecting their yummy morsels, and I may have extricated myself from the group with some level of anxious urgency. But other than that I was surprisingly calm and at peace.

I could spend pages describing in detail the subtle variations between the sunshine yellow angelfish and the plump eerily-still resident that remained on the floor between the coral gloating over his shades of brown camouflage that made him nearly impossible to make out, but for me it wasn’t about that.  It’s true, it was like getting to climb into the cleanest, most varied, and well-stocked salt-water aquarium in the world, but more than that was the silence. It isn’t like anything I’m familiar with.  There isn’t the simple sound of chirping birds, or crickets, or geckos, or frogs. There is no breeze rustling leaves, no lawn mower or traffic in the distance, no mumblings of a conversation a few tables down…It was silent. I heard only my breath hollow in the plastic tube and I wanted to be still. I wanted to be a visitor with no footprint or impact. I was small, and humbled, and amazed…and still. I swayed with the easy flow of the subtle currents like the fish below me. They didn’t battle upstream against the force of a raging river; they just flowed and allowed the ocean to redirect their coarse. Rocking gently in the water made me reflect on my life and how, so often, I ‘decide’ on a specific coarse never considering the more natural ebb and flow of my journey. The fish were sometimes still, but never stagnant. Always in gentle motion, but never off balance.

I enjoyed the feel of the water on my skin and the buoyant nature of the tropical ocean, right up until my previously ignored physiology wrenchingly reminded me that I get fiercely seasick. Who knew you could get seasick while actually still in the water. Head pounding, stomach churning, I quietly begged for a speedy return to my bed and western pharmacological buffet.

Just another example of great balance. With great peace, great disruption, both equal in fond appreciation.

I woke at my usual pre-dawn hour on my last day in Singapore. The haze was at an all time high and redirected my idea of a morning walk into a leisurely breakfast.

I couldn’t help by be excited by the idea of finally getting to Bali, but I was sad that my boyfriend would be continuing home to SFO, then Pennsylvania, then Europe and it will be a month before I see him again.  We both love to travel, and I am actually quite fond of traveling alone, but he is a joy to travel with and Bali just seems a place for lovers.

My momentary longing aside we made our way to the airport amongst a sea of masks busy with their daily goings on. Mainstream movies being one of my many guilty pleasures, I looked around feeling like I might be on set to one of those big Hollywood blockbusters about the next plague or the next zombie coming.

These men, women, and children trying to make their way through the now dangerously high pollutant air, I’m sure would not be amused by my careless thoughts, and I had a moment of shame for my lightheartedness. I am very lucky and have no respiratory or other medical conditions, but the emergency room nurse in me easily imagines the suffering that has been wrought via this smoky fog. It takes very little to take a person from living their simple day on autopilot to a horrified gasping that brings little relief, desperately aware of every breath and terrified there will not be a next.  These fires and this haze of dense campfire memories are no joke to the millions who live here…and I am made small once again by my own thoughts.

I quiet my mind, silently wish health and wellbeing to these warm kindhearted people, and make my way to Changi airport.

Today I decided to do the quintessential tourist thing…postcards. My personal tiny twist is I like to go pick out a few postcards for the area, which, of course, always showcase the most beautiful and/or recognizable touristy spots and THEN I go visit them. It’s my own little 50-cent tour guide. So instead of the lovely depiction of the botanic garden, I instead grabbed the first unrecognizable image and flipped it over to ensure that it was, indeed, in Singapore. I flashed the card to the nearest taxi driver and he said “Chinatown”.

As with any postcard, this image would either showcase an unbelievably amazing once in a lifetime moment that only a paid photographer would have privy too, or it would fall dismally short of capturing the energy and presence of the true place. Considering what I had witnessed so far from this larger than life urban metropolis, I feared the former. As I approached the street corner of the “Buddha Tooth Relic Temple’ I knew I had underestimated the magic within this city/country once again.

I was just in time for ceremony and I was welcomed in lovingly. This temple is half spiritual practice and half museum allowing tourists to wonder around the ornate perimeter throughout ceremonies as well as between.

The main hall was covered from floor to ceiling with amazing statues and ornate design.  Each floor gave way to a rich expansive museum coexisting with quiet prayer areas throughout where both locals and travelers can find their moments of peace.

The 5 stories to the temple rose high into the city sky with the top being an open roof garden complete with prayer areas, fountains, and the largest prayer wheel in the world.

The temple and the kind people who resided there offered me, and every wary heavyhearted traveler, respite, a sense of compassion, and a moment to truly remember to breathe.  Like the gardens of yesterday morning, this place will remain with me and remind me that there is beauty everywhere…you simply have to remember that you see what it is you look for.

The skies have been dark and grey, not due to the urban smog that I originally believed, but because of fires that have coated the city in a thick haze.  As unfortunate as I suppose that should be, I found the 6am morning air reminiscent of childhood campfires and I caught a slight yearning for smores. I would feel like an awful person save the fact that I learned the fires are intentional for the purpose of clearing and not a danger to home or person.

At 6am I had already been up for hours and was eager to start the day. With the sun not rising until 7 it seems the locals get a leisurely start on their work day usually commencing around 9am, I am told. The benefit of the late start for the worker bees is that I could drag Geoff out to the amazing Singapore Botanic Garden.  

Only a few miles from the urban monster that had threatened to eat me whole yesterday, we found a sanctuary of rainforest greenery. I was suddenly transported into my kind of wonderful…rich fragrant flowers and trees towering into the distance with draping vines that beg for the 10-year-old inside me to grab a hold and swing across.

Some of the best aspects of this particular garden was that it is open 5am to midnight, it is free to the public, and it is a locals favorite. As we weaved our way through the vast expanse of this beautiful treasure and the dawn sleepily opened her eyes to the new day, we were privileged observers to the daily meditations, tia chi, and assortment of morning practices of the wonderfully kind and purposeful people here.  

After a rejuvenating walk, we quietly took our leave and navigated the refreshing (and when I say refreshing I mean dripping sweat down my back included with a damp smiling under-boob sweat stain on what I thought was a loose enough shirt to mask my less than feminine ‘glistening’)  2 mile walk home.

Quick shower, Geoff off to work, and I am out into the city alone for my next adventure.

I found Sentosa via a very posh cable car ride across the bay (which I highly suggest, I can only imagine the view gets even better on a clear day!).

Sentosa is a wonderful island resort. It has all the amenities of LA complete with warm weather and American prices. It is a perfect island to bring a family on holiday where the kids can’t live without the giant dressed up plushy characters, a true Universal Studios, waterslide parks, zoos, dolphin shows, and a myriad of amusement park rides without the Disneyland lines. It is a play-day for all.

Personally, I was looking for some local volleyball that I heard congregates on Siloso beach, which just so happens to co-exist with this tourist extravaganza.

Sadly, on arrival to the beach, a very friendly local kid told me that they were doing some new construction and had taken down the local courts. The hotel replaced them with some temporary courts available only to hotel guests. He smiled brightly and said “These days you couldn’t find a local here unless he is getting paid to be here…like me.” His grin was infectious and I was again amazed by his nearly perfect English and genuine nature. He welcomed me to a shady beach lounger and suggested I take the beach route rather than the usual tourist track when I made my way back.

Even here, surrounded by water and palm trees, the urban melodies of construction and traffic fill the dense smoky air and the waterfront view is littered with gigantic ocean liners.  This is a land of economic and technological growth, filled with intelligent, driven people who are carving their place in the global economic pie.

I sat for awhile and then, trying to get into the spirit of things, found my way past the zipline to the trapeze. How wonderful!!! I once had a dream that I was a circus performer on the moon where, of course, I was weightless and graceful. I Bee-lined towards the answer to all of my childhood dreams, only to find it to be one of the ‘under construction’ project. Oh, well…definitely something to add to my shakabucket list! From there I wondered finding my afternoon calling from a hand written ad for a free ‘fish foot exfoliation’ with the Underwater tunnel exhibit. Unique and interesting I decided that would be my adventure for the day.

Looking into the clear water rich with a speckling of poppy-seed swimmers I had a moment of giggling that I hadn’t realized was with my outloud voice until I looked up to find 2 very conservative looking men staring at me (in a culture that condones very little eye-contact). Stepping into the pool the little critters pounced. Tickling my sensitive toes and climbing all the way up my submerged legs and partially out of the water with their complete dedication to the task. Being a bit of a tom-boy with less than feminine feet I sometimes feel a little uncomfortable subjecting the pedicurist to my callus covered cave feet, but somehow this was ok.

Day One: Singapore

            I have to admit that Singapore was not necessarily on my ‘must see’ travel short list and I did not do my due diligence to prepare for my journey. Reading nothing and not being a very seasoned traveler, I began my voyage relying heavily on the fact that I was traveling this first leg of the trip with my boyfriend Geoff and that I heard that Singapore was a safe city. So safe in fact, that I was told that it was illegal to chew gum or spit on the sidewalk. Sadly, that makes it relatively risky for a gum smacking, bubble blowing, pre-teen behaving girl like myself, but I thought is was worth the risk considering I already shelled out the cash for the ticket and it just so happened that Geoff was working in Singapore this week and had a seat on the same flight!

            So sharing a 15+ hour flight with your boyfriend to an unknown land sounds like a romance novel fantasy, right? Well, let’s just say we didn’t exactly have seats together. He sat 35 rows in front of me reclined, with feet up, and resting for his busy workweek and I, well, I was Santa Cruz zero-boundaries friendly and shared my lap with my neighbors elbow, half his meal tray, and possibly a bit of his drool while he fell in-and-out of fitful sleep (although, I’m still clinging to the possibility of a random in-flight rain storm that, although fairly unbelievable, quieted the little germ-a-phobe voice that allowed me to continue to wear the same clothes throughout the 20+ hour travel day).

            Arriving in Singapore I was amazed by the beauty and efficiency of the airport and immigration process. My last trip “out of the country” was to the loud, crowded, bustling, nightclub style airport of Puerto Vallarta, but this airport looked more like a well-kept museum and hosted a similar scant number of visitors. The process from exiting the plane through grabbing a taxi out of the airport took only minutes.

After checking in to the hotel and a quick wardrobe change it was off to explore. When I say ‘explore’ don’t be confused by the inevitable leap to images of lush rain forest or beautiful countryside, instead I found myself lost in an urban jungle trying to make my way through an ocean of humanity. The buildings climbed the skies all around me with Vegas style blinking billboards scrawled across their sided. Cars and busses scrambled inching forward through the traffic, wedging themselves edging between each other and honking the familiar language of dense population. The streets were populated like New Years Eve in Times Square meets Black Friday. The endless shopping malls embraced one another as far as the eye could see with every possible recognizable American name brand and advertizing. Starbucks, 7-11, Coldstone, Gap, Victoria Secret, Prada, Chanel anything you could ever want to find in any mall or high-end shop in the states are all conveniently located just a few short flights across the world.

Usually, when I travel, my first moments are spent trying to find the similarities of the place I am visiting with my home. Maybe it is a need to ground myself in the familiar or find some common ground to sooth the secret fears that creep up in my mind when I’m faced with the unknown.  Today I was scrambling to find what about Singapore was different. I know there is a unique culture, interesting architecture, and endless things to discover and learn, but for now, at this moment, I am over stimulated, over tired, and over whelmed with the chaos of the concrete construct of commercialism engulfing my senses like napalm. A good nights sleep, fresh perspective, and a decent travel book might make all the difference…