Singa Poor Show

First of all it's worth pointing out that I'm a right grumpy bastard the first few days of travelling. And this sojourn is no exception. Harumph and indeed harumph. Are there two Rs in harrumph?

It may be that the mild rant you are about to read is tempered by jetlag and heat, but even from an objective standpoint, Singapore has yet to really impress. Sorry.

How to describe it. Well imagine this. Go on, imagine it:

Take a Chinatown, any from your average British city and plop it next to any Little India say Brick Lane or Rusholm, ensuring there is a degree of overlap and that, for example, some places sell chicken biryani AND sweet and sour pork.

Now have some Chinese blokes on rickety cycles weave in and out of some Indian blokes sat on the street with one leg tucked under them. Now flank this with some Japanese-style neon highrises and liberally scatter Western iconography (pictures of Beckham and Nokia Mobiles) across the architectural bric-a-brac.

That's Singapore. Sounds interesting admittedly, but it all feels begged, borrowed or stolen. I suspect you can find better examples of everything on show here in it's original indigenous location.

I just thought it would have more of a sense of itself. Never mind.

My judgement is clouded however. My coma-inducing jetlag has pinned me to my bed, and the greenhouse humidity is fostering a walking-through-warm-treacle malaise. This after coming from a Midlands Winter where, the weather girl warned if it got much worse robins would actually freeze to the branch and polar bears would be seen on the streets of Walsall.

Things will get better I hope. Otherwise Singapore can consider itself slinged. No, slung.

Oh forget it.