Fat Bird in Bugis, Singapore

"The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." Lucille Ball

"Meet me at the Bugis MRT station around 7:00 p.m.," said the text. It came from a very good friend of mine, Darren Ng. He is one of Singapore's native sons and an acclaimed travel blogger at SAFRA and Explore Life Lah!  It was my first Saturday night in the Lion City. When I travel I like to go where the locals go, and Darren promised not to disappoint.

The hawker stands and shophouse restaurants were packed that night. Arriving just the day before, I was still negotiating between time zones on both sides of the International Date Line. I put myself in Darren's hands as he led me from the cavernous and quite-crowded MRT station to the busy, noisy streets above.

We ended up here:

 

Fat Bird is located off Liang Seah Street in the Bugis section of Singapore. It turns out that Bugis has a very, very colorful history. From the 1950s to the 1980s it was renowned as a haven for transexuals. 

The original 'Bugis' people were seafarers from South Sulawesi province in Indonesia. For a time in the 20th century it was the party-hardy place to go in the Lion City. 

Those days have since gone by as redevelopment was ushered in change. Go to this link for a YouTube clip that tells a bit about the history of this colorful neighborhood (English subtitles included).  

The atmosphere was Asian style bohemian, casual and free-spirited at its best. I loved it. I could get used to this! This is a great place to meet your friends for dinner that is unpretentious and reasonably priced. 

Sure, the tables were excruciating close together. But it took little time and effort to befriend our neighbors and join in the evening's culinary festivities. 

The interior of Fat Bird is light and airy. It's a great place to meet your friends for free-flowing conversation for hours. We never felt rushed to leave. Note that each of the tables has a gas burner that cooks your dinner and keeps it warm for you. I suppose I've had a sheltered life since I never encountered anything like this until I relocated to Honolulu. 

Darren and I took a table on the sidewalk -actually within inches of passing traffic. Singularly offbeat and exquisitely appetizing, I learned that this was home to one of the best braised kampong chicken hot pot establishments around. The picture shows Darren doing what Singaporeans do best. I dared not interfere. You think I'd fly eighteen hours from Hawaii to do so anyway? Of course not! 

Yummorama! The soup itself was creamy and smooth. "Oh so onolicious! ("Ono" means 'good' in Hawaii) 

Patrons can personalize the essence and hotness of the broth from mild to hot-hot-hot. I love my heat turned up high! I thought it might help deal with the jet-lag. Darren asked, and I did not decline. Good thing we drank generous amounts of Tiger beer and water! 

This was marvelous -simply marvelous. The chicken, veggies and rice made for a delightful symphony of flavors and textures. I loved the extra kick the spiciness provided. It went well with the total Bugis festive atmosphere surrounding us. I was so satisfied I offered (some might say threatened) to move in. Ha ha ha ha! 

Would I go back for more? You better believe it. Perhaps I'll see you there! I sure hope so! 

Only in Chinatown: Hotel 1929, Singapore

“There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern.” Samuel Johnson

Luck was on my side. My flight from Tokyo landed at world-famous Changi Airport in Singapore. The time was 12:20 a.m., Friday, March 7. I had been traveling for over eighteen hours from Honolulu. The first thing on my mind was getting a problem-free taxi ride to my first accommodation, Hotel 1929 in Chinatown. 

There are people who rate Singaporean taxi drivers as among the worst in the world. That surprised me since the city-state is about the size of the Hawaiian island of Molokai. How could you get lost? What could go wrong? (Stay tuned for my comments in an upcoming post about my island-hopping excursion with Darren Ng and Hoh Siow Har on Sunday. Oy vey!)

In my case nothing went wrong when I jumped into the taxi waiting for me. When I told my driver that Hotel 1929 was my destination he grinned and said, “No problem, sir.” I was elated. 

Hotel 1929 is nestled among the shophouses of Singapore's Chinatown.

This was my room. Yes, a bit small. It was functional and comfortable. The air conditioning brought welcomed relief from the smell of Sumatran haze and tropical temperatures. 

This was the glassed-encased bath area. The sink was on the outside facing the bed. 

I chose Hotel 1929 from various selections on hotels.com. I wanted to stay in a shophouse converted into a boutique hotel. There are many of them in Singapore’s Chinatown. I wanted to show my support for the preservation of these historic buildings. Keong Saik Road is lined with such historic shophouses, many of which have been reused as boutique hotels, restaurants, and more. 

My driver was quite lively and gregarious. He even handed me bottled water for which I was grateful. We cruised from the airport through nearly deserted streets as we discussed everything from the pungent smell of ‘haze’ in the air, the current drought (the worst in 154 years), landmark buildings and more as if we were old friends. This was not bad at all. 

We quickly arrived at the hotel. I bid farewell to my driver as he handed me my luggage. Two of the hotel staff were on hand. They were waiting and expecting my arrival. I was warmly greeted and called by name. Checking me in was done most efficiently. I was in my second-floor rear section room in no time. 

This is a delightful, small boutique hotel. My room was modest and practical. After all, I was not planning on staying in the room much of the time. 

I’d describe the decor as modernistic and trendy, but not overwhelming or tacky. I was amused by the glass-walled shower and toilet section. That, too, was functional and it worked fine with me. 

When I travel an important item is WiFi and it worked very well here. I was delighted to signal my Facebook friends that I had arrived safe and sound. 

This outdoor living room was a nice treat. Located outside my window it is a nice setting. The only drawback was that the air conditioning system was nearby, so it was a bit noisy. 

My four-night stay came with an all-you-can-eat breakfast. It was what we would called ‘continental’ with a variety of Western and Asian selections. 

The surrounding neighborhood features a lively variety of restaurants and bars. The famous Maxwell Food Centre and Chinatown Food Street were a five-minute walk away, for example. 

Getting reacquainted with the Lion City meant asking the staff for directions, questions and so forth. At all times when I needed everything from a map to what restaurants were open -if anything- at 5:30 a.m., the staff were smiling and ever-helpful. 

Location! Location Location! This was one of the best things about staying at Hotel 1929. Both the Chinatown MRT and Outram Park MRT (subway) stations were a few blocks away. 

I loved the row upon row of shophouses that lined the narrow streets of Chinatown. I noted a welcoming coherent, harmonious and logical flow to the streetscapes, something I find comforting in historic settings. 

Inside and out, the serenity of the façades of the shophouses coupled with art and personalized, warm service made my stay at Hotel 1929 a pleasant one. 

Yes, I was a happy-camper at Hotel 1929. 

On that first morning I probably slept four or five hours. Feeling a bit excited about my arrival, I ran out before breakfast to survey my surroundings. I used New Bridge Road as the path for my morning explorations, finally ending up near Riverwalk along the Singapore River. 

Here are my first photos:

None of the restaurants or hawker food stands were open yet. 

The Year of the Horse was prominently on display from the recent Chinese New Year celebrations. 

Uh oh! It looks like these Chinese New Year horses took a tumble! 

This is a fine example of the typical shophouse architecture seen throughout Singapore's Chinatown and elsewhere. 

This is one way to dry your laundry. The air here is so warm overnight and hit during the day that it makes sense. 

Worshippers were here bright and early. 

This is the entrance to Maxwell Food Centre

I took this photo at about 5:30 a.m., more or less. This is the Singapore River with Parliament House in the foreground and the stunning Marina Sands Hotel in the distance. This was the first time I had seen the hotel. I thought it was out-of-this-world. 

Still a Wonder: Thian Hock Keng in Singapore

I got lost. My flight had landed at Changi Airport only hours before. 

Did the fact that I lost my bearings particularly matter? In retrospect? Not really. After a seven-year absence from Singapore I correctly assumed that my initial explorations of the Lion City would be ill-predicted. By that I mean that I'd spend the first day or two wandering around and simply making up my journey along the way. 

The smell of "haze" from burning fires in Sumatra filled the air. But as I rounded a street corner lined with traditional shophouses the distinctive, pungent aroma of burning joss sticks filled the air -and then there it was: 158 Telok Ayer Street. 

Dignified. Splendid, yet understated. Exquisite in its exactitude. A meticulous connection to Singapore's engaging past like no other. 

The initial sight of Thian Hock Keng delighted me. At last! I would be renewing an acquaintanceship started nearly ten year before.  

As an historian I've toured many historic churches, synagogues and temples. My family even built a few, such as the Second Congregational Church in my ancestral home in Greenwich, Connecticut USA. The stories told and untold make for compelling analysis and exploration. Thian Hock Keng was clearly outside my traditional comfort -much to my satisfaction. 

In a city-state that bustles with action day and night this beautiful oasis of calm and serenity has been here since 1839. Once upon a time the nearby area was the waterfront. It was at this historic spot where early seamen and migrants from China's Fujian province would pay their respects and express their gratitude for a safe journey and arrival. 

I thought about my own ancestors in Connecticut and what their lives were like. Living in homes that still grace our roadways on land they farmed in relative safety, I juxtaposed them with the precarious, formidable journey faced by those early migrants from China to the shores of an island colony founded by Sir Stamford Raffles just twenty years before. It was a time when whatever semblance of law and order existed on the seas still posed severe challenges for those who risked it all for a better life in a young, struggling colony. I felt humbled. 

Not a single nail holds this temple together. Surrounded by modern skyscrapers and now far from the shore, the mysteries of this place were forcibly compelling to me, but in an inspiriting,

serene way. 

This Chinese guardian lion seemed to smile. These are found in pairs in front of temples. They are said to have robust, legendary powers -with safeguarding benefits! 

I consider this temple to be an architectural masterpiece. I loved the ornateness of the roof details, the Chinese scripts on the red columns, the red lanterns, the serenity and symmetry of the courtyards, such as the one pictured above. 

The most important element of this temple is that it is still alive with worshippers. Indeed, this is a functioning temple and not a tourist haven. Photography is not permitted in the areas where worshippers pay their respects, just as generations have done so here for 175 years. 

As I wandered among the courtyards, doorways and soaked in the cornucopia of Chinese traditions around me I found myself at time feeling emotional. At the time I was surprised and unsure why. 

But I came to understand that I was witnessing an intersection of my own, albeit indirect, reunion with Chinese civilization through my father. My wanderings triggered thoughts and buried feelings of my late-father, who passed on four years ago. 

Dad had never visited Singapore, but he was stationed in China after World War II. I could picture Dad in his youthful early-20s meandering among similar temples in Tianjin and Beijing. Years ago he told me stories of his wonder and astonishment at the ancientness of those temples, of an encounter with a civilization far older than our own. I felt teary-eyed at times in a way I have a hard time articulating in words. 

I also thought about my friends in Singapore and their ancestors who made the difficult, even treacherous journey to come here. I felt a commonality with them, with their progenitors and mine so long ago. The experience of reuniting with Thian Hock Keng reminded me that despite cultural, language and other characteristics we, together, are part of a chain of history that started so long ago. And, together, we had history to celebrate, to connect with through smiles, curiosity, and the exquisite pain of tears of separation and joy that proved to be an unexpected gift. 

It was all so poetic. As I departed the front gate and turned to look one more time I felt grateful. You encounter all kinds when you travel the world. One of the guides nodded and smiled as I re-entered the modernity of Singapore. He bade me a safe journey. That was nice.