Excursions, II

The language section of our Lonely Planet guide book reads: "You're unlikely to spend much time in Singapore without finding yourself at some point staring dumbly at someone, trying to work out what on earth they are on about." I came pretty close to this experience when I tried to take Sam on a half-hour boat ride last week.

I walked up to the river cruise kiosk just as a boat was pulling away. "How long until the next boat?" I asked.

"You buy ticket, boat in 20 minute time." (At least, that's what I think the old man said. I'm afraid I can't do the exchange proper justice.)

Okay. But what if I leave and come back and miss the next boat, would the following boat then be 40 minutes from now? (The brochure says they run every 15 minutes.)

"You buy ticket, boat in 20 minute time."

Right. So should I wait until I get back to buy a ticket?

"You buy ticket, boat in 20 minute time."

So whenever I buy my ticket, no boat will appear for 20 minutes?

"You buy ticket, boat in 20 minute time."

Sigh.

It was late in the morning, I had errands to run, and there was no way Sam was going to hang out in the heat for 20 minutes. We left and I tried again the next day.

As we walked up to the kiosk the following morning, I had not seen any boats coming or going. I asked when is the next boat.

"You buy ticket, boat in 20 minute time."

Of course. 

It was earlier in the day and I was prepared with Sam's snacks, so we waited. Twenty minutes came and went. Finally, a boat pulled up. I collected our things and we moved toward the landing. The young assistant ran out to stop us, explaining they needed to clean the boat. We waited. I saw no cleaning happening. Another boat pulled up, unloading a Japanese tour group. Again, we were not permitted to board. (There was one other tourist waiting with us.) Sam was now jumping impatiently as his whining escalated. Then, both boats pulled away. WTF?!

I took Sam to stand outside the kiosk and let them listen to his whining, now bordering meltdown. I politely said, "You said it'd be 20 minutes..." The young assistant rushed out, Okay-okaying me, and called over one of the boats that had been tied up to the quay this entire time. Double WTF?!

The boat ride itself was pleasant enough, save for Sam declaring "All done" seven minutes into it. The driver (I wouldn't call him a captain) looked to be about as old as the refurbished bumboat and bopped along to '80's pop music. Taking both Sam and me by surprise, the assistant (I wouldn't call him a skipper) wordlessly lifted Sam on and off the boat and down and up the steps to the quay. We cruised up the river to see the famous Merlion fountain (Singapore's symbol--a lion's head on a fish's body) in the bay and then back. It's always interesting to see a city from a different perspective, especially when the river is so integral to the city's character. Sam has also decreed a "No photos please" policy. Every time we aim the camera at him, we elicit shrieks of "No no no!" which is ironic because when he sees the camera on the table, he points to it and says, "Cheeeese" with his biggest goofball smile.

On Thursday, on the recommendation of one of the front desk clerks, we took a taxi to the Jacob Ballas Children's Garden. Aimed at children 12 and under, it's operated by the Singapore Botanic Garden. Sam spent a good half hour in the sand playground, hitting the chimes and sitting on the digger. I was then able to talk him into exploring the hedge maze, which, once he grasped the concept, he enjoyed running through. We broke for snack in the outdoor café outside the park, and when we reentered, we never made it past the water section. At first, there was no one around, so we played with the old-fashioned water pumps and, after I figured out how to turn the fountains on, Sam just put his hand through them.

Then other kids started showing up, and I realized how woefully unprepared I was. The moms stripped all their kids down and outfitted them in full-body rash-guard swimwear. Big towels were pulled out. I should at least have had the sense to strip Sam down to his diaper, but I thought, "Oh, he's not really getting into the fountains. He's fine." There were some watering cans and plants laid out, and we occupied ourselves with refilling the cans at the pumps and watering (and overwatering) the plants. 

Then Finn woke up and I had to go feed him on a bench. Each time I looked up, Sam was a little bit wetter, until finally, I saw him backing into the fountain spray like you would in a shower, water pouring over his hat.

When it was time to go, I stripped him down, blotted him with the cloth diaper I carry around to burp Finn, gave him a fresh diaper, and he rode home in the cab in just his sandals.