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The longest direct flight in the world is from New York City’s JFK airport to Singapore-Changi, a 9,526-flight-mile journey that takes almost 19 hours, with four pilots switching off to complete the trip. This may not sound like your idea of a great time—but I happen to love flying. Being on the plane gives me peace. The bustle of the airport and the mix of all the freaks in transit just work for me, and I love overpaying for bottled water. When I received an invite to visit Singapore, I jumped at the chance, in part just to take the Singapore Air flight. Not for the satay, excellent in-flight service, or Le Labo amenity kit, but simply to prove to myself (no one else cares) that my body and mind could take it. I finished Keith McNally’s memoir in one sitting—the power of flight.
I didn’t sleep a wink, so I felt adequately insane by the time I deplaned and meandered through the Changi airport. I met my driver, Seah, who escorted me outside into the stifling humidity, which, after a full day of no fresh air, felt like a damp, warm hug. I settled into the backseat of his car—a late-model white Camry with a tasteful mocha leather interior—for our ride to The Standard; the radio was tuned to Gold 90.5 FM, a station that played hits from every era. The first few I recognized—Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” and Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love.” But after Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam’s “Lost in Emotion” came one I had never heard. The words were in English, but something felt different. I pulled out my phone, opened the Shazam app, and quickly learned it was a song called “The Actor” by a band with one of the worst names I have ever heard, Michael Learns to Rock. With time to kill, I hit Wikipedia and learned that the band was from Denmark but was huge in Asia because of their drug-free clean-living image.
Singapore is beautiful. It’s a new city constructed in a jungle, so it feels lush and immaculately clean. Depending on what neighborhood you’re in, the buildings range from very modern to old-world traditional. There is no trash on the sidewalks, homeless encampments, or horn honking. Things are efficient and regimented. Vaping is illegal, and smoking is relegated to particular areas. After twelve hours of much-needed sleep, I asked Seah to take me to the mall. Growing up in Atlanta, another place with stifling humidity, malls are my culture, and Singapore has some of the best in the world. They were almost interchangeable, lined with designer stores of impressive scale, restaurants, and people actually spending money. Marina Bay Sands, the OG, is part of a massive casino resort and has a man-made canal running through it where you can take a gondola ride. I was constantly impressed; everything about these giant shopping hubs ran smoothly, and everything was in its place.
The food is the main draw for many people. The famous hawker stalls offer every local delicacy you can imagine, in a sweaty, laid-back setting. Pull up a stool and start eating. I went to check out Dover Street Market, located next to a place called Culina that reminded me of my beloved (and now shuttered) Dean & Deluca. It had a fantastic grocery selection and a restaurant where I could adhere to my diet while eyeballing the wild looks of the DSM employees on break. At Far East Plaza, an older mall that attracts locals, I walked in circles, trying to locate a coffee place I had found online. After what seemed like an hour of walking in circles past Thai restaurants, nail salons, and eyebrow-threading stalls, I finally stopped at one of the many alterations stores and asked for help, and I wasn’t disappointed. The cold brew, my first since I arrived, hit hard.
At Burnt Ends, a restaurant where everything is cooked on a two-oven, four-ton brick kiln, I met an older couple on holiday from Atlanta. They loved it and excitedly told me about their visit to the botanical gardens and plans to cruise through Asia for a month. They were so positive and upbeat; it was infectious and made me feel good about another 19-hour flight. Post-meal, Seah took me back to Changi for my 1 AM return flight; the dial stayed on Gold 90.5 FM. As we pulled into terminal 3, a different Michael Learns to Rock song came on. I realized this Danish band and the reasons for their popularity summed up Singapore for me as well: Clean, polite, somewhat familiar, and maybe a little too safe. It’s a long way to go, but I am glad I did, because there is nowhere else quite like it.
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