Kids in Jaipur
I’m sitting in Singapore airport as a I write this, and the city’s clinical atmosphere bears stark contrast to the contents of this blog. Although muggy outside, my feet are cold thanks to the over zealous air-conditioning; next to me, a ‘Harrods’ mini-store sells over priced cookies and handbags and an attractive and well dressed Chinese couple are drinking cocktails at the bar in front of me (it’s 10am). This blog is about India, a place where the price of one of those cocktails is the equivalent of a month’s wages. Singapore is the cleanest city in the world, everything works and I know there will be no ill effects from scoffing down a tempting smelling Subway from next door to the Harrods. However, Singapore, again with glaring disparity to India, is as bland and soulless as one of those people you meet who class their interests as ‘going shopping on a Saturday and then snuggling up with a take away to the X-factor’. So bland, in fact, (save for a delightful Singapore Sling in Raffles hotel with some friends), after asking a taxi driver what’s fun to do here he sat for a full minute in quiet contemplation before throwing the Universal Studios’ theme park out as an option, laced with a questioning upward inflection, indicating that he knew full well that he was scraping the barrel. He followed this by saying it’s not worth the small fortune it costs to get in anyway.