Cracking the new journal in Singapore's airport.  We flew in last night and spent the morning checking out some of the city. Tasted the best congee ever at the Crystal Emerald Restaurant on Orchard Lane.  Singapore is Mel Lastman's dream.  An
autonomous, multicultural, self-supporting, natural-ressourceless city with international recognition as a nation state.  The people comprise an ethnic mix of Chinese, Malay and Tamil (who seemingly, as we spotted on our early morning ventures, perform the
drudge work around the place).  English is the lingua franca.  Singapore has built its financial empire (now considered a rising dragon/sitting tiger or some such thing) on the hard work and strict control of its people.  Heavy fines are in effect for littering,
spitting gum and failing to flush public toilets.  The result?  Pristinely clean streets and equally orderly citizens of all stripes.  The general sterility of the place (and relatively high prices) ensure that it remains no more than a reluctant stop-over on the
backpacker's itinerary.

But as far as I'm concerned, the real down-side to Singapore is the handing out of the death penalty to convicted drug traffickers, including foreigners caught with a little stash at the airport.  Yikes.  We did see the soldiers patrolling with semi-automatics (looking all of 17).  Ahhh... the price of "keeping up" with the West.   In our short stay we missed all the main attractions of the island, but we did catch the lush greenery, tasted the best meal we'd had in ages, and bounced on a quick bus tour along winding tropical roads through a country that could fit in Canada's back pocket.

Take off.  Bangkok bound.

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