Flying over Singapore

When you read this I really will be flying over Singapore en route to meet up with Dave in Shanghai. But this post is not about that flight. It's about the Singapore Flyer, which Hillary, her 6-year-old daughter, and I did last night.

The Singapore Flyer is the world's largest Giant Observation Wheel. There are 28 air-conditioned capsules the size of transit buses, each able to hold 28 people. It takes 30 minutes to complete a rotation. It sits 165 meters tall and is just four years old.

We timed it for sunset and it was worth the wait until the end of my trip. Today the sun came out and we saw some blue skies. It was also miserably hot, at least for someone like me who is not used to the intense sun coupled with humidity in the 90th percentile.

From the Flyer we could see as far as Indonesia. The cargo ships stretched out as far as the eye could see. In 2011 the port of Singapore processed 57 million containers. Amazing! We could see hundreds of cranes which unload the containers, the ones that look like those two-legged walkers called AT-ST's from The Empire Strikes Back.

The Theatres on the Bay at the Esplanade are called Durian by the locals because the domes look like the spiky fruit. And the Marina Bay Sands Hotel, the one with the casino up top and the much-photographed infinity pool 55 stories up, stands alone. There's also a DNA-inspired double-helix, curved bridge over Marina Bay.

 The architecture in Singapore is eye candy. The economy in Singapore is booming and there is much new construction going on. Hillary told me that they don't renovate in Singapore, they bulldoze and rebuild. Much attention is paid to outside spaces and art, and it's a visual delight. I especially like the chubby Buddhas by Taiwanese sculptor Li Chen.

The air is as thick as paint.

Hillary & Her Goodies

And it's raining, too. It's not the cool, reluctant, gentle rain we get in California. The downpour was loud enough to wake me through the double-paned windows of my hotel room and is so intense that I can't see across the street. It's warm. The drains can't take the water away fast enough so I'm toe deep in it as I walk. It's windy and the water comes at me from all angles. I'm drenched but again, not cold. The experience is like taking a tepid shower.

I'm glad to be in Singapore.

Hillary's happy face greeted me at the airport and off we went into the heavy air. We dropped my bags at the hotel and exchanged goodies. She received six American magazines, Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies, Kraft Mac & Cheese, earrings and books for her first grader. I received a sun umbrella, hand sanitizer, three types of bottled water, almonds and the local paper. We giggled like school girls and went back out into the moist air.

Exactly where do these go on an Apple device?

Lunch was in the food court at the Ion Orchard Mall. There were more than 50 food stalls on the lower floor and, while my lunch was deliberately forgettable in deference to my stomach that didn't know what time zone it was on (food is food after 20 hours in the air), I was fascinated with the decor: eclectic chandeliers, sculpture, food presentation, bright colors. And people eating ambidextrously while simultaneously talking.

The economy on this island is built around shipping; Singapore's position between Malaysia and Indonesia make it one of the world's busiest ports. There are few natural resources here so nearly all goods are imported. Spending money seems to be the main form of entertainment. The part of the city I've seen thus far is store after store after store. Ion Orchard is Eldest Daughter's every fantasy, 300 retailers spanning all price points: Forever 21, Abercrombie, an all Havianas store, a store with just smart phone earphones, stores devoted to just iPhone cases, Converse, Kate Spade, Dunkin Donuts.

Singapore is an easy place to visit, perhaps because English is spoken here. Perhaps because Hillary is my tour guide. Perhaps because I've traveled in Asia before.

Butterflies

In 48 hours I will be on a flight to Singapore to visit Hillary, a friend from college. She moved there just last summer and I am exited to be one of her family's first visitors.

But I also hate leaving The Pinks on another continent. Natural disasters do happen, you know. What if The Big One comes? One of my friends was stuck in Europe when the Icelandic volcano erupted and also in Hawaii on 9/11. I'm not worried about The Pinks' care; my folks will undoubtedly do just as good a job, if not better, than I would.

I've packed very light considering this trip also includes Shanghai, which is, on average, 50 degrees cooler than Singapore. I'm only bringing a carry on so about half is clothes and the rest is things for Hil and her family: books, food, things like Neosporin which she hasn't yet found a suitable replacement for.

Ahead of me are forty hours on a plane. My laptop has 17 movies loaded on it. I have more than enough work to do.

But mostly I have butterflies.

29 Again.

Why is 29 the ideal age?

I have a few ideas:

1. Many women are not yet buried under kids.
2. Many woman are settled into their careers.
3. Many women still have that youthful stretch to their skin, the stretch that isn't yet droop.
4. Many women are in steady relationships and have the means to travel and do things like triathlons and grad school before entering the heavy-responsibility, light-sleep years of parenting.

I spent my birthday at the happiest place on earth: the ski slopes of Squaw Valley USA with my family. Four feet of fresh snow fell the week before we came up and it was the best day of skiing all year, as was evidenced by the parking lot, which filled at 9am.

My brother and his family joined us on the slopes, and for dinner along with some neighbors and friends from Northstar.

And as a bonus, Squaw celebrated SnowFest and we were treated to fireworks the night before and a full weekend of music and Rahlve's Bonzai Tour of freestyle skiing.

The kids kept their comments about me being the slowest skier in the family to themselves. Mostly.

Happily ever after

In theory.

We know quite a few couples who have split up in the last few years.

When Thing 1 heard of the most recent divorce, quite close friends of ours, she said, "Mommy, does everyone break up?"

In quick succession I rattled off a list of marrieds: Grandma and Papa, Ga and Pa until he passed away, Aunt Michelle and Uncle Phil, Aunt Kristin and Uncle Barry, the Owles, Aunt Janice and Uncle Bob, Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Mitch, Nini and Sydney, our neighbors on both sides, Neeracha and Sean, Thom and Sara, Dave and Jackie, Amy and Mark, Jim and Mary Claire, Uncle Bryan and Sara, and on and on.

It's a hard thing for a child to understand. It's a hard thing for an adult to understand. In time there will be a new normal. At least that's what they say.

There goes the neighborhood.

There are thirty-something homes in our neighborhood. We know all but a few of the neighbors and socialize with several of them. Two are close enough friends that they came to Italy with us last summer.

Something is going on this year, though: a bunch of them are moving. There's no one event driving this. Two are becoming Empty Nesters. Two more are moving to retirement communities. Another couple is retiring and moving closer to their adult children. One is selling so they can turn their wine country home into a family compound and live there full-time.

We've been in this house ten years and don't foresee moving until the kids go to college. Then it's off to the Four Seasons Residences in the city.

Still, it's unsettling because there hasn't been much turnover in this neighborhood to date.

I wish my brother and ice cream SIL would move here. But they won't. They enjoy remodeling too much to buy a home that's move-in-ready.

Finally, a real ski weekend.

Some snow has fallen since Christmas. Not a lot but enough to make a trip to Tahoe worthwhile.

I have missed the mountains. I have missed the snow. I have missed the scent of pine trees. I have missed our neighbors.

We skied. We had dinner with our neighbors. We ice skated at Northstar with friends and had dinner. I'm going to start calling Northstar the northern outpost of our Bay Area suburb. So many familiar races around the rink! Thing 2 waited in line for 1 hour 35 minutes to have her face painted. Who knew she had such patience?!

Now let's talk about the much-hyped ski-through Starbucks, the first one of its kind in the US. It's been featured prominently in the news, even on CNN. Well, it's not so much ski-through as it is ski-up. It's really a window in the Gold Coast Complex. So if you hop off the Funitel, carry your skis and poles down the long corridor and put on your skis prematurely then you can scoot to the window and order your grande, extra-hot Caramel Macchiato with half 2% milk and half whole milk, no whipped cream. And then ski uphill a bit to the bunny hill chair or ski down to the intermediate and advanced chairs. The reality is this: anyone with any ski ability whatsoever takes the back door off the Funitel and bypasses Starbucks and the novice skiers altogether en route to the more challenging terrain.

And, for the record, I saw no one on skis holding a Starbucks cup. So there you have it. The world according to Leslie.

I was sad to come home today.