Interview: Tom Meighan of Kasabian
Outspoken frontman Tom Meighan tells Ric Stockfis about growing up, the making of Velociraptor and living forever.
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What do you think of the start-up scene here?
Singapore is amazing. There was no other place in Asia that even made our shortlist. It delivers a great place to network with like-minded individuals and provides excellent access to events and resources that can help start-ups get off the ground.
What’s wrong with the online travel market right now?
Searching for and booking travel online is a chore. It’s time consuming and frustrating and, even at its best, it’s a middling experience. From my perspective, travel sites simply stopped improving a few years back. Consumers have been trained to expect less.
How would you like to see things change?
I’d like to see the market move from a supplier focus to a customer focus. It should be fast and simple to search for flights and hotels. All crucial information for making a decision should be at consumers’ fingertips.
Are there any travel sites you do like?
Among the smaller players there are some more interesting sites. Hipmunk is trying to do things differently. Another favorite, more narrowly focused on members’ only deals in the luxury market, is Jetsetter.
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I love being back. I haven’t felt bored since returning home six months ago.
Being able to say “jialat” and have people know what I mean was one thing I missed. The others were local food and predictable weather.
I was a bit of a troublemaker at school. I would try anything to get out early, including cycling to school every morning just so I could make a quick escape after flag-raising, and escaping to sleep in the sick bay during class.
I’m the type of traveler that doesn’t plan. I go and figure things out when I’m there.
My husband and I want to pull each other’s hair out every other day. Seriously. However, working together has made us closer than most. We see every aspect of each other. And we know what each other’s strengths are, and how to harness them to function as a team.
My three wishes would be to be healthy, wise and always hungry—for food, and for learning and growth.
Rude people make me angry.
We once got stranded in a boat at night, in choppy waters off Koh Phi Phi. Instead of calling for help the boatman called a friend to chat. We finally rowed our way back to shore. Lesson learned— always check that your boat is equipped with lifejackets and a flashlight. If possible, make sure your boatman is not crazy either.
We got too old for hostels and too tired of staying in dinky budget hotels. And we were renting out our place whenever we were away, but the process was cumbersome and frustrating. So we set up Roomorama.
The hardest part of starting this business has been educating the public on what Roomorama is about and how it makes it safe and reliable to rent an apartment or home while traveling.
If I were president of Singapore for the day, I’d reinstate my old salary of $4m a year. Haha.
Perfect bliss is traveling with my husband and dog.
My parents are my role models. They have shown me the importance of working hard and being humble.
I’d tell my younger self to listen to your older advisors when they caution you, because they’ve been through it before and it will save you some pain and suffering.
I feel proudest when I mention Roomorama to someone new, and they know of it independently of me telling them about it.
The best advice I ever received was that you’ll make mistakes—just pick up, move on and make sure you learn from them.
Free-spirited, adventurous and sociable. That’s how my best friend would describe me.
If I wasn’t doing this, I’d probably be trying to convince everyone to recycle and reuse their stuff. Everyone needs to do their part!
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Whether there’s any truth to the rumor that certain mass market retailers intentionally over-roast their beans so that a straight-up black coffee is less appealing than its more expensive, milky cousins, we can’t be sure. But to judge from the number of alternative venues that have opened here in recent months, from the almost standing-room-only Coffeesmith to the 140-seater Brunetti, there’s clearly a growing appetite for something crafted with real care. If the language on the menu at many of these newcomers is any indication, Singapore has fallen firmly in love with “Third Wave” coffee.
When Melbournian Michael Ryan first arrived in Singapore, some eight years ago, he was dismayed by what happened when he ventured into a café. “I ordered a latte,” he says, “and it came in a gigantic glass with a handle. I thought to myself, ‘I’m going to do something about this one day’.” He might not have realized it at the time, but others were already working toward the same goal, among them Highlander, which began offering barista classes as far back as 2004, and another Aussie, Ross Bright, the unofficial godfather of Singapore’s specialty coffee scene.
It was Bright, now Master Roaster for Spinelli and a host of independents, and a World Barista Championships-certified judge, who spearheaded the original Singapore Barista Championships here in 2007, to kickstart recognition for the guys behind the counter and show that coffee could be something other than what people were used to (the over-sized chainstore coffee that Ryan mockingly calls the “bucketccino”). And in the last year or so, this movement appears to have reached a tipping point. Ryan finally opened his own spot, Jimmy Monkey, back in July, and he’s learning the art of roasting from Ross Bright. His is one of more than a dozen new coffee outlets to open this year; some roasting their own beans, others making a point of using local roasters, and all talking up their shiny new machines, microlot beans and alternative credentials.
In fact, there are now so many of these artisan and (mostly) indie coffeeshops here that two locally-based fans, Erik Posthuma and Luke Norman, were moved to launch a coffee trail concept in September. The free Disloyalty Card (find them on Twitter) encourages coffee drinkers to collect stamps from eight different venues (Broers Café, 40 Hands, Jewel Coffee, Jimmy Monkey, Loysel’s Toy, Oriole, Smitten and SOHO Coffee) and claim a free coffee when they’re done. Before you get any ideas, this isn’t about saving money—you’ll spend far more on transport than you’ll save!—but is instead aimed at building appreciation for the scene; a riff on an anti-chainstore concept launched—only semi-seriously—in London two years ago by 2009 World Barista Champion Gwilym Davies.
As for why this was the year Third Wave coffee finally went mainstream, Ross Bright explains that it has taken time to manipulate local preference away from darker-roasted, sweetened coffee. “It was difficult,” he says, “to get people to understand that sourness is actually a positive; that you lose character when you roast dark. But that’s definitely changed over the last five or six years.” He also suggests that in terms of barista talent, “Singapore has really kicked things up in the last two or three years,” and is now competitive on a global scale. (He rates Singapore’s talent as second only to Thailand in SE Asia, and the latter’s end product suffers because they can’t import raw beans.).
And if the sheer rate of openings this year came as a surprise, the folk behind the counters agree that it was bound to happen here sooner or later. Says Michael Ryan, “There’s always been an interest in real coffee here. We notice it more recently because there are more people getting in on it. Maybe it’s the fact that the trend is happening so powerfully in Australia, and it’s not that far away.”
Evidently, there’s never have been a better time to be a coffee drinker in Singapore. But all this talk of Third Wave is certainly no guarantee of quality. (You could buy beans hand-picked by Bono himself, but if they were roasted too far away or too long ago, or you put them through a crappy machine, the drink in the cup won’t be up to much.) Meanwhile, a movement that began as a celebration of the collective enjoyment of coffee has long since been globally co-opted by canny marketeers. That’s not to say any of the newcomers here aren’t well-intentioned; but it will inevitably be some time before we see how broad and sustainable the market for premium coffee really is, and who is truly committed to growing the scene. And that’s before you factor in a global recession, with consumers looking to spend less, not more, on premium products.
Perth native Harry Grover opened 40 Hands to instant acclaim in Tiong Bahru in October of last year. (Perhaps it really does take Aussies to convince Singaporeans that coffee can be cool.) He’s a fervent supporter of the Third Wave movement, explicitly rejecting the commoditization and commercialization of the coffee experience, and “supporting ethical organizations and roasters [to] support the growers,” and his hope is that these new spaces will “help lift the standards in Singapore, not just for the small percentage of people patronizing these kind of places, but by creating awareness of the investment that goes into making a good cup.” Nevertheless, he warns that, “If they are coming on board to ‘ride the new coffee trend’ then they will help create a bubble that will burst when the market matures.” It is vital, he says, that they “stay true to their aims.”
Ross Bright sounds an even more blunt warning. “These independent guys are running around paying high rents. The business models here and in Australia are completely different. Over there, you rent a place for five or seven years, build it up as business and flog it off. Here, after three years, the landlord’s telling you to renovate and, if you don’t renovate and aren’t prepared to pay another 20 percent, you’re out. So, if you can’t make your money back in the first two or three years, it doesn’t really work.”
There’s nevertheless real excitement about what a mature coffee market here might look like. Keith Loh, Managing Director of Oriole and a former Singapore Barista Champion himself, would like to see more local innovation. “I still feel that we’re not looking to ourselves to forward the understanding of coffee in a Singapore context, we’re still internalizing a lot of Western concepts, whether they work or not,” he says. “Let’s ask ourselves, ‘What makes us stand out? What is the Singaporean palate?’ It’s a lot more delicate, we have a far greater range of taste experiences.” In fact, he cautions against a headlong rush to import the Australian model wholesale. “If we keep following everyone and not developing concepts of our own, we’ll never be able to stamp our mark.”
Loh is putting his money where his mouth is, with an on-site research lab and training school at his new Oriole Coffee Roasters. And already we’re seeing innovation in terms of consumer experience, with the likes of Harry Grover opening a gourmet coffee bar inside bistro Open Door Policy, and local boys Papa Palheta stepping up their game. Their pop-up tasting space The Steeping Room ran for just three months over the summer, showcasing different varietals and methods of preparation. Coffee geeks who managed to find the space off Waterloo Street were able to compare and contrast two different coffees via the Steeping Series (with the $35-for-two price tag indicative of the quality on offer); learn more at intimate, after-hours Steeping Sessions; and enjoy brews prepared by guest baristas. More recently they launched Must.Drink.Coffee, a pilot program for a coffee subscription service, with just fifteen lucky lab rats paying $99 to receive at least five bags of beans delivered to their door over the course of three months. In a neat crossover with another geeky subculture, delivery was made by local fixed gear cycling crew Fixpatrix.
Toby Smith (another Australian!), who recently opened an outlet of his gourmet coffee brand Toby’s Estate at Robertson Quay, thinks the potential for Singapore to break new ground is very real. “Australia,” he says, “is still obsessed by the Italian way of doing things. The market there is very heavily milk-based. And they refuse to drink iced drinks, even in the heat. But here, new ways of doing things aren’t a big deal. New is nothing. People embrace it.”
This idea of Singapore as a pioneer is a popular one. Ross Bright would like to see Singapore become the model for specialty coffee in the region: “Because then what we do is take the model into Manila and Jakarta and KL and build from there.”
Nor can the trickle-down effect of all this Third Wave talk of sustainability and growers’ cooperatives be discounted. When a 20-plus outlet chain like Spinelli can run an organic month (as they did in October) and market coffee produced through youth development schemes in Colombia or under the Rainforest Alliance banner, then it’s clear not just how far we’ve come in recent years, but also how things might continue to evolve.
Victor Mah of the Singapore Coffee Association, which puts on the Barista Championships each year (the next one is scheduled for Mar 2012), notes that the scene is still new and consumers need to be educated. “Despite the interest and growth in specialty coffee, the backbone of the coffee industry is still the traditional kopi tiam kopi as it is a cultural part of Singaporean lifestyle, and the most affordable drink locally.”
But even if coffee of this sort is never going to be mass market, it’s hard not to concur with Keith Loh when he says, “It’s a great goal to have, a day when specialty coffee eventually renders itself obsolete.”
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Trains aren’t always easy to love. Ask someone on a packed BTS carriage what word first springs to mind when you say “railway” and chances are it’ll be anything except “adventure.” But some people appreciate that there’s something rather special about railways; something about their gloriously straight lines and the private path they carve, something that captures the imagination like no other form of transport can.
Asia actually offers some of the world’s most exciting train journeys; whether it’s taking a Shinkansen through the heart of Japan, or peering out from a pressurized cabin as you’re whisked up to Lhasa. Here, though, are three rather more unusual railway adventures, by turns romantic, remote and mysterious. All of them offer a perspective on the final destination that you simply won’t find by any other means.
One glimpse of the teakwood-panelled, open-air observation car at the back of the train and you’ll realize there’s still nothing else quite like this. Actually though, it’s not the luxury that impresses (though it certainly helps) or the cozy twin bed cabin (we barely spent any time there), so much as just how darn fun the whole thing is.
Like food? Like making new friends? Then you’re in luck. You don’t have to interact with anyone other than your travelling partner, but if you’ve any sense you’ll welcome the opportunity to dine with different people at every meal. And boy, are there a lot of meals—rich, three or four-course fine dining affairs that fill half the day (and that’s not counting breakfast in bed). The rest of the time is best spent in the observation car, drinking gin and channelling your best Somerset Maugham. At Butterworth, and again at the River Kwai, you disembark for a short tour of the sights, but frankly you’re all too conscious that this is time you’re not spending in the piano lounge with a glass in hand. And the scenery? That’s pretty good, too, especially once you cross the Thai border; if you’re lucky, the train slows down for a better view of the sunset. As you’d imagine, it’s mostly couples on board, and the average age hovers around 50, but younger folk and even solo travellers won’t find themselves short of conversation (or food)—we certainly didn’t. It’s not cheap, but if money’s no issue (or you’re looking to break the bank for a once-in-a-lifetime trip), it’s unforgettable for all the right reasons.
Singapore-Bangkok on the Eastern & Oriental Express is a three-day/two-night trip. Prices start at US$2,320 (B72,000) per person (based on sharing a cabin) and include all meals and tours. Doing the journey in reverse takes four days/three nights (same prices). Log on to http://tiny.cc/4a7ag for scheduling info and more.
Boarding the train in Pyongyang is a rather special moment. For the first time since entering North Korea several days earlier, you’re separated from your escort and reunited with your mobile phone. You can also look forward to the best part of a day taking in the countryside all the way north to the border, with a quick stop at a railway station microbrewery (yes, seriously) along the way. The train rattles through largely undeveloped countryside, criss-crossed by footpaths and ordinary people doing ordinary things in this extraordinary country. All in all, it’s by far the most satisfying part of the trip, since you’re free to just watch the world go by, freed from the tour bus commentary and the need to have every photo you take pre-approved.
It’s pretty comfortable on board, too (though if you come to North Korea expecting fine Egyptian cottons and ensuite showers, you’re either deluded or else good friends with Kim Jong-Il). If you’ve ever travelled hard sleeper in China you’ll know what to expect: Narrow, but comfy bunks and a lively dining car (a good chance to share the dubious grain alcohol you bought on a whim in Pyongyang; the one with a snake carcass coiled at the bottom of the bottle).
It’ll be getting dark by the time you reach the border, and you have the option of getting off and spending a night or two discovering the charms of Dandong, on the Chinese side of the Yalu River. Think Kim Jong-il memorabilia, a Museum to Commemorate Aiding Korea against US Aggression, and a Canadian-run cafe serving “The Best Coffee This Side of the Border.” Or else you can sleep through the night and wake up the following morning in Beijing. Compared to where you’ve just come from, it’ll seem like the most liberal city on Earth.
Koryo Tours (www.koryotours.com) can solve all your North Korean needs (there’s no such thing as independent travel there). Their last tour of 2011 runs from Nov 19-23/24 and costs €990 (B41,850)—it’s the cheapest one of the year—including an air ticket from Beijing and the train journey. Stop-overs in Dandong cost extra. Thai Airways (www.thaiairways.com) flies direct to Beijing, where the tour starts, from around B22,205.
The train that’s left is a rusting wreck, but the 7km of abandoned track that runs across the tranquil islets of Don Det and Don Khon in southern Laos’ 4,000 Islands archipelago (yes, it’s just as amazing as it sounds), is still quite an adventure, even if you’re no rail buff. Built by the French in the late nineteenth century and abandoned around the time of WWII, it stands testament to their attempts to transform the Mekhong into a navigable waterway. They were ultimately defeated by the nearby Khone Pha Pheng waterfall (Asia’s largest), a still awe-inspiring sight, all the better appreciated if your plans for imperial expansion don’t hang on it.
Nowadays the erstwhile rail line is a pleasantly sedate place to stroll or cycle (no rails remain) amid rice fields and jungle, with the chance to peer across to Cambodia at the southern end, and the arched viaduct connecting the two islands making for a popular photo spot. “Popular” is a relative term though; this southern section of Laos sees far fewer visitors than Luang Prabang and the like; even if the three-way draw of the railway, the falls and the (unlikely) prospect of catching sight of an Irrawaddy dolphin guarantees a good number of Thai day-trippers mingling with the backpackers.
Lao Airlines (www.laoairlines.com) flies direct to and from Pakse for around US$300 (B9,000, including taxes). From Pakse it’s a 2.5-3hr bus ride (B250) to Ban Nakasang, which is a quick boat ride from Don Det.
Once you’re finally there, stay at the Sala Don Khone (www.saladonekone.com), a restored French dispensary building a short walk from the viaduct, offering suites, converted outhouses and even floating bungalows, from US$35 (B1,085) per night. It sure beats slumming it in a fanless, one-room hut like the gap year kids.
* Since 2009, there’s been a short section of track from the Thai border towards Tha Na Laeng in Vientiane. But there’s not a whiff of romance to it; and it’s over before you’ve even begun. So we’re ignoring it. Fun fact: The only other Asian country without a railway is Bhutan.
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Trains aren’t always easy to love. Ask someone on a packed MRT carriage what word first springs to mind when you say “railway” and chances are it’ll be anything except “adventure.” But the crowds that turned out to lament the loss of the KTM line earlier this year proved that, deep down, most of us know there’s something rather special about railways; something about their gloriously straight lines and the private path they carve, something that captures the imagination like no other form of transportation can.
Even if the old line is now gone from Singapore, Asia offers some of the world’s most exciting train journeys; whether it’s taking a Shinkansen through the heart of Japan, or peering out from a pressurized cabin as you’re whisked up to Lhasa. Here, though, are three rather more unusual railway adventures, by turns romantic, remote and mysterious. All of them offer a perspective on the destination that you simply won’t find by any other means.
While it’s true that the romance has gone out of the start of this legendary journey (taking a bus up to Woodlands just can’t compete with boarding at the majestic art deco Tanjong Pagar station), one glimpse of the teakwood-panelled, open-air observation car at the back of the train and you’ll realize there’s still nothing quite like it. Actually though, it’s not the luxury that impresses (though it certainly helps) or the cozy twin bed cabin (we barely spent any time there), so much as just how darn fun the whole thing is.
Like food? Like making new friends? Then you’re in luck. You don’t have to interact with anyone other than your travelling partner, but if you’ve any sense you’ll welcome the opportunity to dine with different people at every meal. And boy, are there a lot of meals—rich, three or four course fine dining affairs that fill half the day (and that’s not counting breakfast in bed). The rest of the time is best spent in the observation car, drinking gin and channelling your best Somerset Maugham. At Butterworth, and again at the River Kwai, you disembark for a short tour of the sights, but frankly you’re all too conscious that this is time you’re not spending in the piano lounge, glass in hand. And the scenery? That’s pretty good, too, especially once you cross the Thai border; if you’re lucky, the train slows down for a better view of sunset. As you’d imagine, it’s mostly couples on board, and the average age hovers around 50, but younger folk and even solo travellers won’t find themselves short of conversation (or food)—we certainly didn’t. It’s not cheap, but if money’s no issue (or you’re looking to break the bank for a once-in-a-lifetime trip), it’s unforgettable for all the right reasons.
Essentials: Singapore-Bangkok on the Eastern & Oriental Express is a three-day/two-night trip. Prices start at $3,500 per person (based on sharing a cabin) and include all meals and tours. Doing the journey in reverse takes four days/three nights. Log on to their website for scheduling info and more.
Boarding the train in Pyongyang is a rather special moment. For the first time since entering North Korea several days earlier, you’re separated from your escort and reunited with your mobile phone. You can also look forward to the best part of a day taking in the countryside all the way north to the border, with a quick stop at a railway station microbrewery (yes, seriously) along the way. The train rattles through largely undeveloped countryside, criss-crossed by footpaths and ordinary people doing ordinary things in this extraordinary country. All in, it’s by far the most satisfying part of the trip, since you’re free to just watch the world go by, freed from the tour bus commentary and the need to pre-approve every photo you take.
It’s pretty comfortable on board, too (though if you come to North Korea expecting fine Egyptian cottons and ensuite showers, you’re either deluded or else good friends with the regime). If you’ve ever travelled hard sleeper in China you’ll know what to expect: Narrow, but comfy bunks and a lively dining car (a good chance to share the dubious grain alcohol you bought on a whim in Pyongyang; the one with a snake carcass coiled at the bottom of the bottle).
It’ll be getting dark by the time you reach the border, and you have the option of getting off and spending a night or two discovering the charms of Dandong, on the Chinese side of the Yalu river. Think Kim Jong-il memorabilia, a Museum to Commemorate Aiding Korea against US Aggression, and a Canadian-run cafe serving “The Best Coffee This Side of the Border.” Or else you can sleep through the night and wake up the following morning in Beijing. By comparison with where you’ve just come from, it’ll seem like the most liberal city on Earth.
Essentials: Koryo Tours can solve all your North Korean needs (there’s no such thing as independent travel there). Their last tour of 2011 runs from Nov 19-23/24 and costs €990 ($1665)—it’s the cheapest one of the year—including the train journey. Stop-overs in Dandong cost extra. Singapore Airlines fly direct to Beijing from around $660 return (including taxes). From Nov 24, you’ll also be able to get there with Jetstar, with return flights starting at around $350 (including taxes).
The train that’s left is a rusting wreck, but the 7km of abandoned track that runs across the tranquil islets of Don Det and Don Khon in southern Laos’ 4,000 Islands archipelago (yes, it’s just as amazing as it sounds), is still quite an adventure, even if you’re no rail buff. Built by the French in the late nineteenth century and abandoned around the time of WWII, it stands testament to their attempts to transform the Mekong into a navigable waterway. They were ultimately defeated by the nearby Khone Pha Pheng waterfall (Asia’s largest), a still awe-inspiring sight, all the better appreciated if your plans for imperial expansion don’t hang on it.
Nowadays the erstwhile rail line is a pleasantly sedate place to stroll or cycle (no rails remain) amid rice fields and jungle, with the chance to peer across to Cambodia at the southern end, and the arched viaduct connecting the two islands making for a popular photo spot. “Popular” is a relative term though; this southern section of Laos sees far fewer visitors than Luang Prabang and the like; even if the three-way draw of the railway, the falls and the (unlikely) prospect of catching sight of an Irrawaddy dolphin guarantees a good number of Thai day-trippers mingling with the backpackers.
Essentials: It’s not easy to get to the 4000 Islands from Singapore. Currently, the least painful option is to fly to Pakse with Malaysia Airlines (stopping in KL and Ho Chi Minh; watch the timing, it varies vary between seven and 20 hours for a single leg) for around $1400 return, including taxes. Or you can head up to Bangkok [from $260 return with Jetstar] then use Lao Airlines (although we had more luck calling than booking through the site) to get you to and from Pakse for $700 (including taxes). From Nov 24, Lao Airlines will be flying direct from Singapore to Vientiane, from where you can take a short connecting flight to Pakse. From Pakse it’s a 2.5-3hr bus ride ($10) to Ban Nakasang, which is a quick boat ride from Don Det.
Singaporeans do not need a visa for Laos and visa on arrival is available for most other nationalities, though check with the Lao consulate (#13-04/05, Goldhill Plaza, 51 Newton Rd., 6250-6044) before you set off.
Once you’re finally there, stay at the Sala Don Khone, a restored French dispensary building a short walk from the viaduct, offering suites, converted outhouses and even floating bungalows, from US$35 (S$30)/night. It sure beats slumming it in a fanless, one-room hut like the gap year kids.
* Technically this is no longer true. Since 2009, there’s been a short section of track from the Thai border toward Vientiane. But there’s not a whiff of romance to it; and it’s over before you’ve even begun. So we’re ignoring it. Fun fact: The only other Asian country without a railway is Bhutan.
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I came here in 1986 as Marketing Manager with Singapore Airlines. Our biggest problem was trying to get anyone to come here. Their perception was that it was all green, clean, and boring. Getting them to stay more than two nights was a nightmare.
I always thought, “What’s wrong with that?” You get here and you think “Everyone’s having a nice life. Let’s not tell too many people.”
Nowadays, you can’t get rid of people when they come to stay at your place.
I remember going to the first wine bar in Holland Village—it was called Palm’s. To go to a wine bar here back then was very adventurous.
Working for an airline, you fly first class and live in economy. When I went to work in hotels, I was living in first class and travelling in economy.
There’s a guy in my wife’s first novel—In the Shade of the Tembasu Tree. Hal Leadbitter is a bit of a desperado, who screws half the world. Even my mother asked “Surely Mark’s not Hal, is he?” I had to tell a lot of people I’m not him.
Everyone we know thinks they’re a character in the book.
If I were President, I would mandate that the government cease their active practice of forcing home tenants to vacate their premises of many years on the pretext of renovation. We have big regrets about that happening to our old house in Bukit Batok.
Now we live in a bit of a secret little place on the West Coast; it’s an old building but the apartments inside are great and it’s smack bang on the water. The strange thing is that our son now lives there on the seventh floor, our daughter’s on the tenth floor and we’re on the fourth. It’s Greedy Tower.
I remember you used to have to take a ferry to get to the Beaufort Hotel on Sentosa. A year ago, I was walking through Resorts World, looking for lunch. There was a Japanese restaurant with a set menu for $700. I looked inside: It was absolutely empty.
I don’t think I know any high rollers.
My plan one day would be to work wherever I feel like working. I don’t need to be in a particular place.
If I can just go for a surf in the morning, with all the other five o’clock people, and then go drink coffee and read the paper, that’s fantastic.
Some people come here and get a bit carried away with themselves. You can kid yourself pretty badly as an expat.
I started what became the Wanderers rugby team here. In our first season we went quite well and won a couple of games. The next year we got serious, and won the competition undefeated. I was 43 at the time. It felt great, but you can’t kid yourself that you could do that elsewhere. Try that in England and you’d be killed in about 15 seconds.
Life is creating memories. And if you have the opportunity to keep creating interesting new memories, why not? Singapore enables that to happen.
Living here has been life-altering. For the better; for us, for our children and for anyone that we’ve had anything to do with.
We’ll leave one day. And I’ll miss mixing and mingling with like-minded people, in a quality environment.
I don’t think I’ve been brainwashed too much.
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