Singapore – a Century-old Egg and a Long Lifeline

After an extremely interesting – well to me, anyway – meeting this morning, it was decided that this afternoon should be “free”.  I’ve had Chinatown on my list, and decided that today was the day.  So I hopped in a taxi – which, by the way, are plentiful and very cheap here in Singapore – and instructed my driver to take me to Chinatown.  “Where in Chinatown?” was his more than reasonable response.  Not really having any firm idea we discussed the options – “shopping, eating or temple”.  Having previously thought to do all three, he very firmly decided on my behalf to drop me by the temple.  I was expecting a Chinese temple – and in fact know there is one there which apparently holds one of Buddha’s teeth – I was slightly surprised to be dropped outside an “Indian” temple – which I translated as Hindu.  By this time, my driver, who described himself as Singaporean but was probably one of the 75% Chinese population, was expressing a wish that he could guide me around all of Singapore for the rest of my stay.  Since I wasn’t sure quite what this entailed, I refused with a smile, able to excuse myself on the grounds that my free time for the rest of the week is probably at random times.

Chinatown is pretty much what you would imagine.  closely packed streets decorated with the ubiquitous red lanterns, and hoards of people – roughly 50% Chinese and 50% Caucasian tourists.  Just past the Hindu temple is “Food Street” – which is, as you might expect, all about Chinese food.  Everywhere you look there are hot woks with vigorously fierce cooks tossing and mixing combinations of vegetables, noodles, rice and meat – some of which was recognisable, others not so much.  Sometimes there are questions that are better left unasked.  The smell, however, is extraordinary – if you like Chinese food, this is heaven.  Saving the food for later, I headed towards the market area – it is perfect for gift shopping, but you have to be quite firm and say no – there is a level of persistence that is unrivalled.  Unfortunately, because my family read this blog, I can’t reveal what I bought – suffice it to say I will be going home cash poor and gift rich.  One odd moment occurred when I walked past one shop, and realised that I recognised the music – Jingle Bells, Chinese style.  As Forrest Gump would say,  “that’s about all I got to say bout that”.

At one shop a very well-spoken Chinese man of indeterminate age took my hand – politely, not at all threateningly, and asked me where I was from.  When I said “England” he succeeded in reeling off a list of the counties, asking me to say which one I hailed from. It’s fair to say he probably knew all of them – certainly more than I could list – but didn’t include the Isle of Wight, and when I told him that was my home he said sagely “ah…. Hampshire”.  He turned over my hand and said “ah, long life line, that is good”.  I bit back the words “I bet you say that to all the girls” as wasn’t entirely sure how he would take them.  He then proceeded to show me the beautiful fabrics and offered to tailor them to me – an amazing 24 hour service – and this was where I had to be a little firm – the prices were high, although the quality was undoubtedly good, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no when they were delivered.  Nevertheless he was undaunted, and very keen to show me his other shop, selling very nice jewellery.  I may, after a good amount of haggling, have bought a new lavender jade bead for my charm bracelet, but that would be telling.  Keep an eye out for shops that are registered for GST – that means you can claim it back at the airport.  BUT…. don’t do what I do and not have a record of your passport – it’s needed in order to claim.  They only need the number, so a note of that is good.  Fortunately I’m here for a few more days so I can go back and retrieve the receipt.  7% is not to be sniffed at.  Unfortunately I realised at this stage that I didn’t have my phone with me – and in a panic that I had mislaid it, I headed back to the hotel, where thankfully I was reunited with something that is usually surgically attached to me.

More relieved that I should have been – what on earth did we do without mobile phones?! – I repaired to the lounge for something to eat, having abandoned Chinatown before being able to eat.  The “Live Chef” was serving Korean style today – every day is different, and I have been determined to try everything.  A sort of spring roll filled with chicken was on offer, together with some (delicious) sea bass.  This was served with something I didn’t recognise – imagine a scotch egg, with a black yolk, wrapped in brown jelly instead of sausage meat, cut into quarters.  Now imagine that the yolk is dark grey, almost black, and you’ve got it. The jelly is apparently the white of the egg.  Served with a slice of ginger, this is “century egg” – kept for a month and stored in ashes, apparently.  Unusual to say the least, but I took a deep breath and tried it.  It’s interesting – a bit bland, to be honest, and I’d probably not bother again simply because it wasn’t terribly tasty, but still, I’ve done it.  Now I can tick another item off of those silly Facebook “100 foods I’ve eaten” click baits.