Well, look who it is. In Singapore.
Why Singapore, you ask?
For the otters, of course.
Late last year I read a WaPo story about feral
otters that—once driven out of the city by civilization—have recently moved in
and started rampaging through people’s swimming pools and koi ponds.
“Well, that sounds like fun,” I said.
And then, in April I was chatting with a
colleague in our Singapore office, and I suddenly thought that instead of spending the week’s
PTO I’d booked in August in the District They Call Columbia, I should just
spend it in Singapore, instead. I’ve seen so many photos of the incredibly
beautiful parks; I’ve never been there; and otters on the hoof.
So I booked the tickets—had to fly to Germany
to get here—and found a deal at a hotel very near our office.
I have to say that in the week before I left, I
started getting a bit apprehensive. I mean—I haven’t really been anywhere since
my trip
to Ireland in 2019; why did I pick a completely unfamiliar place as my
first post-pandemic destination? I had to get Hep A and typhoid vaccinations
(my health insurance paid for the former, not the latter). I checked,
re-checked and checked again on the COVID-19 entrance requirements for both
Singapore and the US. I packed way more clothes than I ordinarily would,
because temps here hover around 88F, with humidity at about the same figure.
But otters, man.
(It turns out that there aren’t just otters here; there are otter gangs. Seriously: Google “Singapore otter” and the first thing that pops up is “Singapore otter gangs”. They’re like the Montagues and the Capulets, or the Crips and the Bloods. Frankly, it looks to me like the Marinas are just troublemakers. But see for yourself.)
I consulted with the concierge, who told me my
best shot at seeing otters would be the Gardens by the Bay. He coached me on
using the MRT subway system and I set out.
Even though I’d availed myself of the rain
shower, within about 50 meters from the hotel lobby, I was getting soaked in
sweat. See above about 88F and 90% humidity. Still, I made it to the Gardens,
which required that I take about eleventy-six pictures. Even before I got to
the Cloud Forest dome. I mean—this is what I mean about Singapore’s relentless
cultivation of nature.
I did go along the marina, which was where the
otters should be. I saw the signs, but no otters. So, I bought a ticket to the Cloud
Forest and walked through that.
Note the Chihuly installation.
And I also was fascinated by the patterns of
the dome itself.
And then, as I left the dome and started back
to the MRT station, I saw them.
Otters!
They were not engaging in mayhem; it was
clearly siesta time. And I would not blame them if they were feeling the heat.
I certainly was. But I stood not more than three meters from them. That was
worth at least about half the air journey.
That was my first day in Singapore, because
when I got back to my hotel room, the sleep deficit and jet lag caught up with
me, and I basically slept from about 1500 through to 0730. And, boy, did that
feel good.
So, here’s my gratitude for today:
Traveling after a three-year hiatus.
A decent flight with Lufthansa and an
extraordinary flight with Singapore Air.
Having my checked luggage arrive at my
destination when I did.
A rain shower.
A view of this stadium.
Incredible flowers.
Otters up close and not personal.
This is not chickenfeed.
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