Full of it in the Fullerton.

The Fullerton Singapore seems to be the place du jour for most of my meetings this week. From regional CEO’s of PR agencies, to Regional CEO’s of Ad agencies. There’s a theme here. And it’s safe from the natives.

The Fullerton used to be Singapore’s post office and as Anne so correctly observed, given that Singapore is no bigger than Oprah Winfrey, who the fuck is sending all that mail? It’s a huge place. And like all good fruits and vegetables at Halloween it’s been hollowed out and made a laughing stock of.

But the birchermuesli is good and if you’ve been more than once they seem to know you (or just know you’ve got more money than sense).

I had said to my first breakfast meeting ‘I’ll be the English guy in the White Shirt with the Blue Tie looking Hot’ and on arrival realised that was the same as saying ‘I’ll be the inbred racist one who’s scared of darkies’ at a Sarah Palin party.

Anyway, after a brace of breakfasts I ended up meeting Anne and Lucy there for drinks. Anne is going through her fabulous dress period right now, and I strolled out onto the palladian balcony overlooking the grounds I was taken aback by her beauty and taste.

Well, actually I kind of stumbled out of the door tripped onto the terrace and laughed albeit before becoming even more red and blurting out ‘nice frock’ – hell the sentiment was there – and she did look good.

Once we’d all donated 2 pints of blood to the resident flying-micro-vampires, we settled down for a drink, or twelve.

Now, I’m a friend of the people – but at other times people can really piss me off. And apart from Anne, Lucy and I, everyone else in that bar was a dick. None more so than the untucked-pale-swearty-shirt-over-diesel-jeans-that-no-man-over-30-can-wear-with-bleached-hair-aussie who also stumbled out on to said terrace and began to shout to his so-called friends instructions on ordering more vittals and liquid refreshment. A class A cock and carbon copy from the book ‘Pricks you Should Avoid at All Costs in Singapore’. He probably knows Ben Langdon.

Anyway, Anne replied back to him some kind words, including ‘bonzer’ and ’shut up’ and he quickly retreated. Thank Christ.

4 hours later, and the win is flowing, the pizza is ordered and I eat an entire ramekin of so called chili powder (where DOES the work ramekin come from?)

We leave the Fullerton, full of fun, and I’m enchanted by the Chinese New Year lanterns in the lobby.

Getting into a ‘real estate’.

This is Anne’s place at night. Mount Sophia (that’s an address, not an instruction). It’s a wonderful and calm and gorgeous and if you’re wondering why the price of oil is going back up, Anne keeps it at a nippy -10 degrees.

Real estate here has taken a bit of a pummeling recently, as the world’s banks recalled their repugnant bloated bankers back to their morally bankrupt hometowns. No doubt that’s caused some panic here in this asian trading post (and left a lot of maids out of work) but I also sense a bit of relief and relaxation as the Rolex wearing cigar chewing insular money men catch their own avian flu – a virus with the symptoms of over-swollen stock value and nervous twitching in the Cathay lounge. It’s hard to feel sorry for the super-rich.

Anyhoo – I digress, what this means is property is a STEAL. No, literally. Everyone I’ve met is furious that when they signed up for their 7k per month 3 beds last year that they are now down to 4.5 and negotiable.

So I’ve clearly spent most waking hours looking and dreaming ‘what if’…  And I tell you, there are some amazing places to live here.

I think for me it can’t be too ang mo, it needs some semblance of culture and shouldn’t be excessive, I know dear reader – change is in the air lah?

The two extremes of cuisine.

So on arrival at Anne’s (I know I digress a bit) imagine my delight at seeing that not only is her place attached to a mall (Plaza Singapura) but within that mall there is both a ‘Markses’ and a Carrefour.

Now, apart from being reminded of some dorks at Euro RSCG whenever I hear Carrefour (which if pronounced correctly sounds like Pierre Lecosse clearing his throat) this Carrefour is a mecca to the homemaker shopper that I am. It took everything I had not to stock up on Glad wrap and plastic storage (did I tell you I’m watching Top Chef over here?) but what I did find was the precise exact same ramen that Ratchat had bought in K town a couple of weeks ago. So I promptly bought 6.

Now, the old me wouldn’t DREAM of having noodles, dried fish, salted eggs or other such delights pre lunch, but the NEW ME adores it. So this ramen was not only a connection home – it was an  ‘all-day  me moment’ as we’d say when we were all titting about for Nescafe.

At the other end of the scale KK had put into my little black book the address for a seafood restaurant called ‘No Signboard’. Apparently named because the founder, when he opened it, could not afford a signboard. Today, that no signboard signboard is laser cut from aluminium, much like the service skills of the authoritarian, panicked, yet simultaneously lazy waitstaff. Anne and I HAD to go. They do great buns (and trust me, I love a nice bun).

On arrival under the durian, we sat and gazed at the construction hell that is the new ‘integrated resort’ – that’s Singaporean for ‘casino’. A purgatory of a place that’s sure to bring in no end of trouble. Anyway, if they want it and can manage it (which I’m sure they can) there’s no doubt the economy will benefit.

The star of the show here is Chill Crab. A dish so Singaporean it will walk slowly through a mall in front of you – ensuring that no matter where you intend to walk, it’s always in the way… but unlike so called Singaporean Mall Dweebs, it’s delicious to look at – and to eat. Well, when I say to eat, you’ve kind of got to be into E.R. and Silent Witness to get through it. It can be quite daunting.

cf. Back of shot – friend buns. Cooked to order, little orgasms of dough deep fried and then dipped into the sauce. Delicious. I had one – as I am a grown up.

This dish doesn’t take any prisoners, you have to hammer, beat, tear and pull to get to the succulent meat within, but fuck me it’s worth it. It’s devine. We have one chilli crab and one white pepper crab – and I loved them both equally.

My only concern would be that it’s not THAT spicy. But the view was incredible, the buns were tight and Anne’s face lit up as I became her personal mortician and extracted the seafoody goodness from within.

I think it must be a mandatory stop for anyone into ripping crabs apart. Which should be everyone.

Sing-a-more!

Arrival, to Anne’s and a long day drinking and relaxing. Before bed at the late hour of 8pm.

Anne’s place is  stunning (or fantabulon as she would say) and she’s a woman who likes her AC on 24/7 so I was confident I wouldn’t spoil.

I put on KK’s shirt and snapped a pic to prove I was wearing it, like a comfort blanket and we headed out for amazing dimsum.

Then to Vivo Mall and a glass or two, then drunkenly spending about 50 dollars on 6 chocolates from a very expensive chocolatey store (Godiva) although I can’t remember eating them.

Then back to Anne’s a thimble of champagne and sleep.

The next morning imagine my horror as I awoke at 3pm. I was panicked. I had missed a whole day and no meetings. But worry not dear reader, I had forgotten to switch my watch from London time. PHEW.

It was time to make meetings. And as my recruiters and agents in NY had said – you need to see people and within 4 hours I had a brace of meetings set up.

It’s funny how when you put your mind to it things happen. People were amazingly receptive to seeing me (maybe I’m not bad at my job – bah!) but here there’s a sense of optimism that hasn’t been crushed by stupid Wall Street Bankers (I said Bankers) and people seem to want you to succeed-  like making a speech at a wedding (thank you Richard).

So off to bed with a Thai Curry (not in the bed, I mean for supper) and another night’s sleep punctuated only by waking at 3am for 20 minutes (which has continued to now).