Sumalee. Javier Salazar Calle

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СКАЧАТЬ already knew that. With how rigid you are....”

      It was true that I was, but it hadn't always been that way.

      We went to the right, leaving behind a pedestrian walkway covered with plants full of purple flowers. After a short while we arrived at a subway station. The type of construction changed, and single-family houses appeared, as if it were an area of semi-detached houses, but each different from the other, both in materials and design. A little further there was a junction with another important street called Bukit Timah which was parallel to a stream and had an elevated bridge.

      “On the left is the mall we told you about, Coronation Shopping Plaza,” Josele said. “On the right the botanical gardens.”

      “Let´s go right then, we will have plenty of time to see shops,” I replied.

      We continued until we reached the main entrance of the botanical park or at least one of the entrances. None of them knew how many there were. I read out of curiosity the information to enter. It was opened from five in the morning to twelve at night every day of the year! In addition, it was free except for the orchids area. That was definitely good public service.

      “Why don't we go in?” I said trying to persuade Josele and Damaso to go in and have a look.

      “We have plenty of time to see things more thoroughly. For your first day it would be better to get familiar with the rest of the city. Besides, Josele already visited the gardens,” Damaso said.

      “Is it true?”

      “Of course,” Josele replied immediately. “Make no mistake. I might like to take cool pictures of flowers, but there was more to it. I came on a date with a Japanese woman that was really hot, and I thought bringing her here was going to lead to a sure success. And it sure was.” He winked at us and we laughed.

      Truth was that he was absolutely right. There was plenty of time to see everything, so I gave in without complaining too much.

      “Look!” Damaso shouted. The bus is coming, we could go see Little India, the Indian quarter of the city.

      Josele and I thought it was a good idea and in thirty minutes we were getting off the bus in a whole different neighbourhood. There the demographic distribution took a total turn, with the majority being Indian (or Bangladeshi, because the truth is that I was incapable of differentiating them). The first thing that struck me was that in a park there were hundreds of them sitting on the ground, in small groups, chatting with each other. My friends told me that it was what they did every Sunday. It was their meeting point to talk about what had happened during the week. That said, there was not one single woman. Only men. Interesting. Was it because of their customs, machismo or women were meeting somewhere else? We kept walking until we arrived at a church where a group of Foochow Methodist were praying at the entrance, which surprised me considering we were in an Indian area and one expects to see Hindu temples. This demonstrated the uniqueness of this place. We also saw restaurants, these yes, Indian and, finally, we arrived at the Mustafa Centre. It was a fairly large shopping mall that was open 24 hours. Across from it there were two-storey houses, majority of them had restaurants, jewellery stores and Hindi schools. There was also a temple called Arya Samaj. This one did look Hindu, but I wasn't sure. The entrance had a poster with two men: one bearded with a kind look and the other with a turban and a saint like halo. At both ends of the street you could see the city's skyscrapers, which contrasted with this low area of houses. Everything was very different from what I knew.

      Josele, who had always been more curious about things and who, in addition, was fond of photography and was always looking for unique locations to unleash his vocation, explained to me that these houses were called shop houses. They were old buildings with the upper floor intended as residence and the lower one for the family business, usually workshops, restaurants, or shops. Apparently, they were highly sought after, not only for their historical value or their beauty, but also for their exceptional location. They rented for three thousand five hundred up to almost twenty thousand dollars a month, depending on their location and condition; and their sale price was several million Singapore dollars. A fortune.

      We went into the mall to see what kind of stores they had. It was over two blocks and on the first floor it had a glass walkway above the street that linked the two buildings. Inside there were shops of all kinds: a supermarket, a pharmacy, cosmetics, sportswear, electronics, post office and jewellery stores. They also had visa services for Indians and Malays and a currency exchange office. One euro amounted to almost one and half Singapore dollar. I had gotten a slightly better rate in Spain.

      At lunchtime we ate at one of the many Indian restaurants in the area. One specialized in northern Indian food. Like I could tell the difference between the food from the north and that from the south! I went along with the advice of Josele and Damaso and we ordered several dishes to share. For starter Aloo Gobi, which were spiced potatoes with cauliflower, and Chaat, a type of very crispy dumplings with various spicy fillings. Then we shared Chana masala, which looked similar to a Spanish dish but had a completely different flavour due to the spices, a rice with lentils called Khichdi and chicken Tandori, a roast chicken with yogurt and spices that gave it a bright red colour. All accompanied by a bread called Kulcha and for dessert some rose petals with sugar called Gulqand. Lots of exotic names and food that sometimes was a bit too spicy. I could eat it once in a while but every day I would end up fed up with so much spice. Besides, I wasn't quite sure that my stomach could take it on a daily basis since it was used to a different kind of food. What I was sure of was that I wouldn't remember the name of any of the dishes.

      I asked about the typical Singaporean food and I was told it was also very spicy, but to not worry about it because there were all kinds of restaurants to choose from. I liked spicy food, but only once in a while and not too spicy. I had a friend who liked hot food, but to me it seemed that with the mouth on fire you couldn't really taste the flavour of the food. Anyway, there was also a lot of Chinese influence in their food, which I liked a lot better. I had to try it soon.

      After lunch we returned home. I had to finish unpacking and I wanted to get some rest. I didn't know if it was jet lag or what, but I was exhausted. Anyway, I had received so much information since I arrived in the city and I really wanted a little peace and to plan for the next day and to get into some routine.

      We spent the rest of the afternoon at home, watching some English news on TV and chatting about the things we would do in the coming weeks.

      We had dinner from what we had in the fridge and shortly I went to sleep. Next day I was starting my new work adventure.

Thailand 13

      My thoughts about my stay in Singapore were interrupted when I felt that someone was watching me. I stopped the series of punches I was doing and looked at the cell door. A man named Channarong was looking at me weird. I had heard of him from other prisoners that talked about him, always with respect. His name, as I had been told, meant something like "fighting to win," which was exactly what I was preparing for. I wasn't quite sure why people respected him. I didn't know if he were a member of a mob, a famous fighter or the son of a rich businessman who could pay someone to kill you if you bothered his offspring. The thing was, he had been staring at me quietly for who knows how long. I tried to pretend by stretching my arms and making some stupid moves trying to imitate what in my head would be Tai Chi. I was sure it was too late and that Channarong could tell that I was training in martial arts. He would have to be stupid to believe that what I was doing was Tai Chi.

      I felt ridiculous trying to throw him off, so I stopped and stared at him without saying anything. Channarong fixed his eyes in mine and examined me closely. His face was completely blank. It was impossible to know what he was СКАЧАТЬ