Eight days in Singapore turned into 12 for me. Someone at the Aussie High Comm in Pretoria had bungled my visa application, causing me to miss my 19 December flight to Perth, WA with Roy. Luckily, and to the huge surprise of all, the visa came through just in the nick of time to allow me to board a flight on the 23rd to join Roy and the family for Christmas .

With my full encouragement, Roy and the second suitcase full of Chrissie presents had gone ahead and taken the flight on the 19th as planned. He’d tenderly given me a Christmas kiss, a New Year’s kiss and even a birthday kiss for January the 17th. After all, who knew how long Slow Sipho in South Africa would take to get his sorry act together?

Endless Wonder in Orchard Road

Happily, Singapore does Christmas very, very well! When I wasn’t concentrating on deepening my duodenal ulcer, I caught up on some shopping in Orchard Road. “Endless Wonder”, by the way, is the theme for the Orchard Road Christmas decorations this year.

I love getting around by bus, and there are all sorts of apps (gothere.sg, SBS Transit and more) that foolproof the taking of public transport.

Fish and Guests

After a couple of comfortable nights at the Pan Pacific Serviced Suites in Beach Road, followed by three nights with hospitable Doug and Jenny Robinson in Cairnhill (that’s them in the top photo with us after champagne brunch at the Ritz-Carlton), our final three nights were with Paul and Salinah Baragwanath.

It’s a well-known fact that, like fish, guests tend to go off after three days. Accordingly, when friends ask us to stay, Roy and I try to linger no longer than three nights. But these amazing friends seemed unfazed by my non-departure and quite prepared to put me up at their luxurious “Baragwanath Hilton” in Upper Bukit Timah for as long as it was going to take for my visa to come through – into the new year, if necessary. (So kind, and you’ve been such great hosts – thanks again, Mr & Mrs B!)

Durian Hunters

There’s always something new to discover in Singapore. This time, I explored a trail near Bukit Timah Nature Reserve, less than a 2km jog from Paul and Salinah’s.

At one of the entry points, I came across a Singaporean man strangely garbed in long sleeves and heavy boots, wearing a helmet with headlamp and armed with a hooked stick.

When I pressed him (no, not physically) to explain, he told me he’d been picking durians* in the reserve. Though the fruit is currently in season, he said, all the best Malaysian produce is exported to China.

*For those who don’t already know, the durian is a large, prickly fruit that is widely adored by Singaporeans and other Asians who are addicted to its yellow, creamy, almost-rotten-tasting tropical flesh. Durian is generally abhorred by almost everyone else, and for the same reason. So offensive and pervasive is its sulphurous smell that you’ll see “No Durian” signs in public buildings and on public transport.

Despite my brand-new white Mizunos  and the rather muddy trail,  I couldn’t resist – I had to see for myself.

Along the way, I encountered a group of four rather shifty-looking durian-hunters, breakfasting on their freshly picked prey. When they offered me a piece I felt somehow compelled to eat it – bravado, I guess. It wasn’t bad – creamy, and only mildly rotten, with that indescribably off taste that stayed with me all day.

It took me ten or 12 years of living in Singapore to eventually become accustomed to the smell of durian. Now, on the odd occasion, I’ll buy a $1 durian-flavoured ice cream from an Orchard Road vendor like this man, sandwiched between two crispy wafers.