This mirage city built on sand and sea is quite indescribably bizarre. My initial romanticised exotic impression on arrival at the airport – subtle wafts in the air of what resembles the scent of my favourite Nag Champa incense – quickly turned sour after spending forever at immigration and on the way to the hotel. An unusually tiring journey by air for seven (plus two) hours. The port-side hotel’s friendly staff then quickly restored my good impression (I’m such an easy mark) with their wonderful professionalism, lovely attentiveness, and beautiful little canapés (吃, what else?). So much sand in the air that the view from the cab looked almost dreamlike, the strange, cachophanous mixture of architectural styles, and those incredibly elegant men dressed in impeccable “veneer white” from head to toe (and stay white!)… Perhaps tomorrow morning my mood will be lifted more by admiring all those beautifully glassy blue and green eyes, and olive skin glistening under the sunlight (reminding me of my SOAS days).
* * *
The smell of frankincense permeating in the air, stronger and stronger; the intoxicating Middle Eastern music, and the calls to prayers filling the dome... All of this is making me seriously light-headed and "I just want to go to sleep..." Then, a few hours later I woke up to face the bitter and cruel realities, of airport security, argh~~~ And those people in a hurry to friggin' go nowhere... don't they ever find themselves just a tad moronic? (Pardon my semi-French here...) Changi, at times like this how I do love coming back to you...!
* * *
The sweet nightingale
sings like a lyre
the flower-filled meadows
are laughing for joy;
a flight of birds soars up
from the enchanted forest;
the maidens’ chorus
promises a thousand delights.
~Carmina Burana; cantiones profanae.
(Alys Clare translation in the author’s book “The Enchanter’s Forest.”)
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