During our rainy Wednesday, I chatted with Dad to let him know that I wanted to get out of the house on Thursday and do something. You may have gathered by now, that as an international traveler, my dad is a bit of an amateur. In trying to get along and not be any trouble, when you ask what he wants to do, his response is “it doesn’t matter.” So Thursday morning I told him that I was planning to go to Chinatown and do some shopping and then go to the Singapore National Orchid garden. His response was that he did that last time we were here. I was quick to respond that I did not fly to the other side of the world to sit in a condominium all day and that I wanted to get out and see some stuff. He was welcome to do what he wanted.
In hindsight, that may have been a little snappy, but I had not gotten much sleep the night before. Oz had a nightmare around midnight and I was awoken by a three year old screaming, “No mama – don’t want!” over and over. I thought that perhaps he had gotten his arm stuck in his convertible bed or something, so after 30 seconds or so, I rolled up off my pad on the living room floor and swooped in for a super hero uncle rescue. However, Oz would not awaken. It was a little like a sleep walking dream –his eyes were closed and he kept calling out. So, I passed him on to Maryana and Jeff, who also had a difficult time waking him. After that I was on high alert for the rest of the night and a little punchy Thursday morning. I was in real need for a bit of alone time.
Dad and I breakfasted at the hawker center. The rhoti prata bread man smiled and waved when I walked past. I am beginning to feel like a local. When we returned to the condo, Maryana was getting Sawyer ready for a play date. She and I made a plan to meet in the children’s botanical garden between 2:30 and 3:00. Dad had to decide, and his decision was to tag along to Chinatown and on to the gardens with me. On the way to the subway stop, I warned him that I am not an expert on figuring out subway system maps, but with a little patience and time, I would get us where we needed to be. Luckily, I had already plotted our journey – once again thank you internet – so we arrived with little difficulty. The sun was out, our pockets were full of money, and there was shopping to be done.
While we were poking through the souvenir shops, I received a text from my brother that if we have time, head to the Maxwell St. hawker center at lunch and look for Tian Tian Hainanese Chicken Rice stall. According to Anthony Bourdain, this stall’s chicken and rice is among one of the 20 things to eat before you die – and you know how I am drawn to a list. So after I picked up some new cologne, I asked the merchant for directions to the center and we were off.
You may remember that dad does not eat chicken – no how, no where, under any circumstances, so I explained to him that he would have to find his own food in the hawker center and that I would meet him by the beer stand at the end of the aisle. He chose some noodles with egg and chili. When I asked why he chose it, his response was that the stall had forks – I may have failed to mention that dad’s chopstick skills pretty much end at stab (to make sure it is dead) then shove into mouth.
The chicken and rice was very tender with a subtle flavor. The rice was aromatic and covered with a rendered chicken stock that pulled the entire dish together. There was also a side of clear chicken broth soup that rocked. I think that after a week in Asia, my American pallet is finally cleansed a bit from the flavorful, but sometimes overly salty or sweet foods I am accustomed to at home as I am starting to really taste the simple flavors in the cooking here. And everything about this dish was simple and subtle. My soul was soothed by it and the icy cold Tiger beer. One of the bad things about dad not eating chicken is that we could not share this experience together, but, most likely, he would have only said it was OK. I, however, thought it was a great success and immediately texted my brother to thank him for the suggestion.
After lunch, we made one more swing through the gift shops and then headed toward the subway – next stop – botanical gardens. When we were last in Singapore, we toured the orchid gardens in the off season – meaning that the orchids were not in bloom. It was still quite impressive, but I wanted to give it one more shot during a different time of year.
It was very hot and we were both a sweaty mess when we arrived at the gardens. But boy, am I delighted that I stood my ground on this one – the gardens were absolutely amazing! The colors were vibrant and exciting. The displays were well placed and carefully thought out. I was in gardener’s heaven. We spent about an hour and a half in the gardens, then hiked back across the botanical park to get to the children’s garden. Did I mention it was a little hot? Dad was a trooper, but he was a moist mess when we arrived.
The children’s garden was a lovely place with little exhibits along a trail. In the center was a sand lot and children’s fountain area. It was a nice respite from the heat and Ozzy had a blast playing with all the other children.
Once everyone was refreshed - Maryana called for a maxi-cab and we headed home. Tonight's festivities were still ahead of us.
