Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [43]
“And,” Cheryl says, “I bet the menu”—which we never see, even if it exists—“doesn’t blather on about diver harvesting, plumpness, provenance, or other things so common in American restaurant descriptions. You see them in the tank alive and know they’re truly fresh.”
After a few more bites, Bill pauses and glances around again. “You know, this place doesn’t look so bad after all.”
Pleasantly acclimated now, we order Chef Danny Lee’s specialty, the crab bee hoon. To accompany the dish, a waitress brings us rolled-up washcloths, a welcome sight, since none of the other food vendors in Singapore so far has offered napkins or wipes of any kind. Later, when he gets the check, Bill sees the washcloths for a second time, listed as a one-dollar charge. He laughs at the fee for a service that keeps the table manageably tidy for the restaurant, but pays it happily.
When we’re well into our second beer, Spark Plug returns with a brimming platter featuring a magnificent jumbo crab, broken into big pieces over a tangled pillow of vermicelli in a sticky broth flavored with oyster sauce, mushrooms, scallions, ginger, and red chiles. “Apple certainly didn’t exaggerate,” Cheryl says. “How could crab get any better?” Taking turns with the metal cracker, we shatter shells much of the evening, probably even in our sleep later. Our goal is to direct the juices into the noodles, enriching them further with briny sweetness, but the shells go in every direction—including, as she discovers the next day, into Cheryl’s purse. She doesn’t keep the mementoes, but we certainly remember the night and its delight. Rock stars got no glory on us.
Johnny Apple’s article convinced us to go to Singapore on our trip, despite many misgivings about the political climate and the antiseptic, Western style of the city. The clique of autocrats who govern every aspect of life seem a little silly at times—banning the sale of chewing gum for many years, for instance—but they are deadly serious about their multitude of rules. Amnesty International condemns the country for one of the highest execution rates in the world (usually for possession of drugs, including marijuana) and also for its cruel and degrading use of caning as a common punishment.
The courts sentence more than one thousand men a year to a varying number of lashes for many different offenses ranging from overstaying a visa (at least three strokes) to vandalism (up to eight smacks) and robbery (a minimum of six blows for an act committed before 7:00 P.M. and twelve for a later offense). The caning crew straps a fellow to a metal frame with his bare butt exposed and whips him hard enough with a rattan stick to leave permanent scars. To increase the pain inflicted, officials soak the rattan overnight in water. It makes you wonder what these guys do for entertainment after work.
Just saying that probably gets this book censored in Singapore, which puts it in pretty good company, alongside the Asian Wall Street Journal and the Far Eastern Economic Review. Reporters Without Borders ranks the nation 140th out of 167 countries in its 2005 index of press freedom. The People’s Action Party (PAP), which has dominated the nominally democratic government for forty years, takes harsh action against political rivals, from denying them almost any opportunity for public visibility to jailing them without trial as threats to national security. The government controls all local radio and television programming, and the Media Development Authority rigorously monitors the Internet to block Web sites deemed a danger to PAP or public morality. Unless you’re trying to summon the police, forget about private satellite dishes, peaceful demonstrations, strikes, and hanging out on the streets in groups of more than six, which is regarded as riotous behavior.
Some citizens poke fun at all the regulations. A widely