Whoo-hoo!

For the sake of sanity, even the most devoted parents need a night or two away from their little ones. Before moving into our new place, Brad and I decided to take advantage of the Treetops babysitting service one more time and kick up our heels for an evening on the Singapore River… to those who have been here, the Clark and Boat Quay district, where the pedestrian-only streets are covered by massive umbrellas pumping out AC and vendors hawking kitschy jewelry are situated at 10-foot intervals.

So. Freakin’. Cool.

The evening begins with us still pretending to be upstanding parents in their 30s, drinking wine at a beautiful little bar on the waterfront… but a couple of hours and couple of stops later, we give up the hoyty-toyty act and find ourselves partying it up at Seven Inch, an absinthe bar with psychedelic painted walls and a string of live bands. You know, the kind of environment where you have to shout to the person standing less than a foot away from you in order to be heard.

In case you’re wondering, the answer is no, neither one of us partook in any absinthe. My 16-month old doesn’t believe in sleeping in past 7:15am, and I hate to think how much even a taste would have cost if I’d been so inclined, considering Tiger beer (the Singapore equivalent of a Bud Light) costs $11/pint. YellowTail wine? $35/bottle. Excessive drinking isn’t really a problem here, as you can probably guess.

Anyway, Brad and I are having a ball, treating ourselves to vodkas and whiskeys and nodding our heads along to a pretty fun band. We situate ourselves by the pool tables and watch the groupies pile up around the stage, going scream-crazy every time the lead guitar player shakes his head and douses them in his sweat. Creepy. This band is the most current version of Sum 41, and Brad and I (as killjoy 30-somethings) snort with laughter every time the singer tries to say something profound or funny or cool—or worst of all, a combination of the three—between sets. (Of course, in first grade when we were asked who our favorite singer was and all the girls said Madonna and all the boys said Michael Jackson, I said Neil Diamond. Actually I said Needle Diamond because I was not only confused about which direction the mainstream was flowing, I was also spelling challenged as a child, so maybe I'm not the best judge of who or what band is cool by everyone else's standards.) But whatever, Brad and I are still having a blast out partying like we're back in college again. And a nice feature to watching a band surrounded by Asian groupies is that you can stand at the back of the room and still have a totally uninhibited view of the stage J

Perhaps the funniest moment of the evening for me came at the end of the band’s set, when the drummer pushed his way through a pack of screaming, clingy girls to see Brad. “I’m so glad you made it, sir!” he said, vigorously shaking Brad’s hand while moving in for one of those one-armed guy hugs. “We really enjoyed your seminar yesterday and are so honored you came to see us play!” I can’t really describe the look on Brad’s face. Blank and hysterical (for me).

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” says Brad. Realizing his mistake, the drummer backs away, apologizing. Then Brad turns to me and says, “Great. I’m like Professor Dumbledore in this crowd.”

The next day we decide we absolutely must do some furniture shopping, if we plan on sleeping on something other than a hard floor this week. What better place to go than Furniture Mall? Seems appropriate. But 4 floors of nothing but furniture stores can get a bit overwhelming, so we decided to take a break after only 3 stores and get some lunch.

We didn’t realize until we got back outside that Furniture Mall is in the Arab District. It is beautiful, with palm lined streets and cafes teeming with men smoking hookahs and women draped in scarves. For a brief minute I question whether or not—in light of recent and not-so-recent events—this is a safe place for three Americans to be walking around. But like I said, it lasted all of a minute. Everyone smiles and nods hello, and when we stop for some drinks (and a lunch of Indonesian beef and tofu, which our daughter gobbled down… coolest 1-year old EVER), a couple of Arab men come over and begin playing with Dagny. Several Australian women in our hotel complex have been complaining the last week or two about how inappropriate they feel it is for the Asians and Muslims to stroke their children’s hair and tickle their arms. I can honestly say it doesn’t bother me in the least. I think it’s wonderful, and a welcome change from the somewhat standoffish nature of Americans when it comes to being overly protective of their children. (When I was touring with Barnum & Bailey for my book, one of the clowns told me they aren’t allowed to put their arms around children for pictures anymore because too many American parents freak out and threaten lawsuits… so sad.)

To sum up the weekend, it was a lot of fun—and in the week ahead, I can’t wait to get moved into our new place! Here are a few pictures of the Quay street umbrellas I mentioned, the Singapore River, an awesome up-the-nose shot of Brad and I partying, and the Arab District.

This poster in the restaurant where we ate lunch cracked me up—underneath "Please Stop At Two" it says "I'm On Strike." It was sponsored by the Chinese Government, go figure!