Salamat, Singapore!

'I don't want to say it,' Chef D said.
'Say what?' I asked.
'That they're taking the piss.'
That was our response to our room in Singapore. It's practically the size of a shoebox; in fact, our shoes on the floor get in the way because there is so little room for them. Our bags on the floor only just fit in between the wall and the bed. I have enclosed a picture of the entire room, taken from the back of the bed at one corner and pointing towards the far corner. We have actually spent many nights in smaller, crappier rooms, but they were in Japan when we expected it, or in placed like Laos where it was a charming and romantic bamboo hut over the Mekong river (never mind the pigs out the back and the chickens foraging underneath. That is what we backpackers like to call charm: the rural idyll.) I think it's just the price paid for the room which irritates. Nevermind; the waitress at breakfast (where the 'cereal set' was cocopops, and the orange juice some sort of fluroescent powder of sugar, colouring and preservatives in water) sang 'twinkle, twinkle, little star' to our girl and danced around the table for her, which makes all souless rooms somehow seem lighter and brighter.  SP, our little Goodwill Ambassador, charms the pants off everyone where ever we go. I think it's the blonde curls, which have gone even curlier and more ensnarled in the humidity.
I like Singapore. We haven't spent much time here in the past, but I like to daydream about living here for a while, one day (unlikely). Every spare pocket of land sprouts a little garden. And these gardens don't huddle, or cower by the roadsides. They spring up, and spill out in verdant and luxurious growth. I always find myself taken hundreds of photos of plants whenever we travel, and here is no exception. We've already been to the Zoo and Sentosa Island, and tomorrow we are going to the Botanic Gardens. My camera will probably burn out there from overuse. What is it about orchids that makes me go ahhhh...?