Small Country, Large City
Singapore
Singapore unfolded before me as a city of gleaming towers and
immaculate streets, a place where order reigned so completely it felt
almost sterile. The strength of the Singapore dollar made every
purchase a calculation, even electronics—items I had expected to find
at bargain prices seemed more costly than in Malaysia.
The metropolis was vast, modern, and astonishingly clean, yet its
perfection left me restless. High-rise buildings dominated the skyline,
boulevards pulsed with traffic, and shopping malls glittered with
designer stores. Even Little India, which I had hoped would carry the
chaotic charm of its namesake, felt overly organised, its vibrancy
contained within neat boundaries.
Singaporeans hurried past with electronic devices pressed to their
ears, their pace relentless, their attention divided. McDonald’s, KFC,
and 7-Eleven appeared on nearly every corner, lending the city an air
of “Little America.” It was efficient, prosperous, and polished—but for
me, soulless.
I found myself ready to leave almost as soon as I arrived. Singapore
was not so much a country as a vast city-state, the smallest nation I
had cycled through, and yet one of the most overwhelming. My
impressions of countries were coloured by mood, by weather, or by
the company I kept. Perhaps on another visit, with different
circumstances, I might see another side of the city. But for now,
Singapore was a brief chapter—an interlude of glass and steel, a
place I passed through rather than lingered in.