Above: "I think it's this way..."; some of us were happier with the
'ferry' ride than others...
On the first day after the grand prix, Jan and Ray set off on their own to check out Little India. Now I’m not sure exactly what they were expecting but let’s just say they didn’t like the place at all. I suspect the vision may have included neatly laid out gift stalls awash with colourful silks and incense sticks. Or maybe colonial style living – a light tiffin buffet served up by a waiter wearing a maharaja-style white suit complete with turban.
Certainly the vision did not include scruffy side streets, drain stench to rival a sewage works and lots and lots of shifty looking men hanging around on every street corner. Oh dear! All I can say is don’t book a holiday to India then, as from what Dom tells me, real India is like Little India magnified several hundred times over.
Despite this slight setback, Jan and Ray still had the urge to explore, the aim being to find somewhere we could go that wasn’t Singapore but didn’t involve getting on a plane. This pretty much leaves you with a boat trip, which is fine as from Singapore you can get to Indonesia in less than an hour by ferry. Better still, you can get to Pulau Ubin, just off the east coast in ten minutes flat. Well, that’s assuming the taxi driver takes you to the right ferry terminal anyway!
“Changi Point please” I told the driver. “Uh?!!” the driver grunted the usual response as I thought “oh god, not another one of these I’ve-never-heard-of-Orchard-Road” merchants…” “Changi Point” I repeated. “You catch the ferry lei?” – at last the driver was starting to catch on. “Yes, ferry to Pulau Ubin.” After about half an hour we pulled up at this ferry terminal and immediately it was obvious that something was not quite right. The car park was empty and there was nobody to be seen.
Just as the taxi was about to abandon us, a security guard shot out of the building and told us that the next ferry was not until five thirty – a time when I had visions of safely ensconced back in our pool, not just heading out to an island getaway. After some questioning, this turned out to be the ferry to Desaru - a nice place to go if you want a day of golf, but obviously not much use to us. “You need Changi Point…next ferry terminal” the guard told us. “Ah, Changi Point, ah!” the taxi driver piped up in a sudden fit of recognition, as if to say “Durrr, why didn’t you say so?”
Changi Point turned out to be about ten miles down the road, so it was a good job that we checked. We followed the signs for the ferry – a slightly strong word for a glorified fishing boat which seated exactly 12 people and looked like it was last painted in 1972. Ten minutes later we docked on Pulau Ubin to a guard of honour formed by tens of rusty bicycles chained to the boardwalk.
Apparently the best way to get around Pulau Ubin was on bike, so I was slightly concerned to see the state of these bicycles – flat tyres and rust clearly evident. Luckily as we walked through to the centre of the village there were several bike rental shops with more up to date looking models (although if you want the bargain basement price of $2 per day you have to go for a clapped out thing with a makeshift basket made out of half a plastic chemical drum tied to the handlebars).
So what’s on Pulau Ubin? Well, not a lot, quite frankly. The whole place is very laid back, the odd shack or prawn farm providing an occasional landmark. There’s a charming ‘town centre’ where you can while away several hours eating noodles, supping Tiger beer and listening to golden oldies on the radio. There’s a potentially interesting wetlands area (which we never quite got to on account of a torrential downpour and the fact that you have to pre-book, which we didn’t do). Then there’s supposedly a resort, which we were counting on to provide cold beer and non-squatting toilets. It was shut.
There were, however, a large number of mosquitoes which took saucer-sized lumps out of my legs. A week later and it still looks like I’ve had a bad attack of chicken pox on my shins. Still, as a day out, Pulau Ubin does give a pretty realistic idea of what life beyond Singapore’s clean and regulated confines is like. Think Malaysia and the rural districts of Bangkok rolled into one and you won’t be far wrong. Oh, and don’t forget to take a good supply of insect repellent and toilet roll!
Below: Get your bikes here (from $2-15!); Jan samples a 'Jolly Shandy' at the local cafe; simple living in the heart of the wilderness; the view from the jetty.
Certainly the vision did not include scruffy side streets, drain stench to rival a sewage works and lots and lots of shifty looking men hanging around on every street corner. Oh dear! All I can say is don’t book a holiday to India then, as from what Dom tells me, real India is like Little India magnified several hundred times over.
Despite this slight setback, Jan and Ray still had the urge to explore, the aim being to find somewhere we could go that wasn’t Singapore but didn’t involve getting on a plane. This pretty much leaves you with a boat trip, which is fine as from Singapore you can get to Indonesia in less than an hour by ferry. Better still, you can get to Pulau Ubin, just off the east coast in ten minutes flat. Well, that’s assuming the taxi driver takes you to the right ferry terminal anyway!
“Changi Point please” I told the driver. “Uh?!!” the driver grunted the usual response as I thought “oh god, not another one of these I’ve-never-heard-of-Orchard-Road” merchants…” “Changi Point” I repeated. “You catch the ferry lei?” – at last the driver was starting to catch on. “Yes, ferry to Pulau Ubin.” After about half an hour we pulled up at this ferry terminal and immediately it was obvious that something was not quite right. The car park was empty and there was nobody to be seen.
Just as the taxi was about to abandon us, a security guard shot out of the building and told us that the next ferry was not until five thirty – a time when I had visions of safely ensconced back in our pool, not just heading out to an island getaway. After some questioning, this turned out to be the ferry to Desaru - a nice place to go if you want a day of golf, but obviously not much use to us. “You need Changi Point…next ferry terminal” the guard told us. “Ah, Changi Point, ah!” the taxi driver piped up in a sudden fit of recognition, as if to say “Durrr, why didn’t you say so?”
Changi Point turned out to be about ten miles down the road, so it was a good job that we checked. We followed the signs for the ferry – a slightly strong word for a glorified fishing boat which seated exactly 12 people and looked like it was last painted in 1972. Ten minutes later we docked on Pulau Ubin to a guard of honour formed by tens of rusty bicycles chained to the boardwalk.
Apparently the best way to get around Pulau Ubin was on bike, so I was slightly concerned to see the state of these bicycles – flat tyres and rust clearly evident. Luckily as we walked through to the centre of the village there were several bike rental shops with more up to date looking models (although if you want the bargain basement price of $2 per day you have to go for a clapped out thing with a makeshift basket made out of half a plastic chemical drum tied to the handlebars).
So what’s on Pulau Ubin? Well, not a lot, quite frankly. The whole place is very laid back, the odd shack or prawn farm providing an occasional landmark. There’s a charming ‘town centre’ where you can while away several hours eating noodles, supping Tiger beer and listening to golden oldies on the radio. There’s a potentially interesting wetlands area (which we never quite got to on account of a torrential downpour and the fact that you have to pre-book, which we didn’t do). Then there’s supposedly a resort, which we were counting on to provide cold beer and non-squatting toilets. It was shut.
There were, however, a large number of mosquitoes which took saucer-sized lumps out of my legs. A week later and it still looks like I’ve had a bad attack of chicken pox on my shins. Still, as a day out, Pulau Ubin does give a pretty realistic idea of what life beyond Singapore’s clean and regulated confines is like. Think Malaysia and the rural districts of Bangkok rolled into one and you won’t be far wrong. Oh, and don’t forget to take a good supply of insect repellent and toilet roll!
Below: Get your bikes here (from $2-15!); Jan samples a 'Jolly Shandy' at the local cafe; simple living in the heart of the wilderness; the view from the jetty.
1 comment:
No kidding, saw those horrendous bumps on your sexy legs the other day. Hope it got better now... gosh, after so many days, better be alright. Must itch like crazy! poor thing
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