May. 25, 2006 - Sentosa Visit Number Two

Yesterday we went back to Sentosa, the leafy little island just off Singapore’s southern port shores.  It is linked to the mainland by a long bridge and a little further along, by high cable cars. 

Our first trip to Sentosa was made by just me and the girls while Greg was away in Bangkok on business, to break up the time he was away.  It is like a little pocket of rainforest, with warning signs along the windy roads that have images of iguanas and monkeys.  We stayed one night at a lovely hotel, curved and set into a hilltop, possessing a breathtaking view of the vessels at sea going to and from the port.  The hotel had a complex children’s pool with slides coming out of the rocks and a tiny bridge, as well as rather large (well, two foot) lizardy creatures that kept appearing, and gliding monster-like through the water and creeping along the lawned poolside.   The girls loved it all, and I sat by the edge of the pool and watched them for hours.  We took a tentative walk, further down past the pools, to a palm tree strewn beach with little inlets and lagoons.  The water unfortunately is extremely polluted, and was greyish in colour with much floating debris which apparently comes in off the ships and fishing junks.  The sand was blisteringly hot and crunchy and with the absence of a scrap of shade, I soon realised that to swim there would be unwise on several levels.  I dragged the disappointed children away, but not before an intoxicated bundle of young locals in their twenties perhaps, caught sight of us from their huddle under a tree, and two of the girls weaved over to us.  I was momentarily alarmed when they looked set to kidnap the children, but soon realised that they just wanted to hug and kiss them and stroke their blonde hair.  Maddy panicked spectacularly but Kenzie posed for their camera and let them pat her face.  I stood there like Attila the Hun, ready to knock one of them out should be become too enthusiastic in her appreciation for my daughters’ western looks. 

It was very odd being at this resort without a man to order the drinks, scare admiring strangers off, shoo away the lizards, carry three suitcases at once, argue about the bill, feign polite disinterest to a friendly European chef and hail a cab, but with adrenalin flowing just under the surface the entire time he was gone, I somehow made it through without too many mishaps and was elated to get back to Singapore.  Among my moments of sheer lip-biting stress was the heart stopping view of my girls struggling in the depth of the adult pool, which they had inadvertently crossed into.  Maddy was well out of her depth and Kenzie, bless her heart was rescuing her, but was being pushed under the surface by Maddy’s flailing arms and legs.  I watched in horrified slow motion, and everything around me slowed to a dim swirling blur except the crystal clear point where my two children’s half submerged heads were seen just above the water.   After only a few seconds they reached the barrier between the deep and shallow part and climbed onto it, Maddy choking and screaming and Kenzie pale and shocked.  I was close to the edge of the pool and beckoned to them and they ran to me along the shallow barrier wall.  I was in complete control of the part of my brain that had been about to launch my fully clothed body into the water, that was rubbing them briskly dry, that was speaking in an upbeat “isn’t this adventure fun?” voice but I was a spectator to the other part of me that felt physically ill with the scare, and the need to just howl out my fright.  However, no such opportunity existed, so I sent them back into the water, shallow side only this time please little darlings, and sat on my lounger, frozen in my vigilance of them. 

Dinner that night was another moment that I could have done with my husband’s assistance as the restaurant was very quiet and posh.  The meal was an international buffet, which I would have loved to explore in slow gastronomic delight, but in reality was a dash after the children as they clutched huge white china dinner plates and attempted to load up with exotic looking, entirely unsuitable food.  I was terrified a plate would slide to the tiles with a loud crash and the attention would have been more than I could’ve borne, so instead I looked like a mother hen on a caffeine trip as I interfered with each of them as they went between the islands of food.  They were eventually seated at our table and I went off myself to get something to eat.  It was the most amazing array of Asian, Mexican and western food I had ever laid eyes on.  Quite a marvel that they can produce this many different dishes!  After the children had eaten their first course, they wandered off to the dessert table.  I was glad they had not seen this table before this point.  It had at its centre, a free flowing chocolate fountain.  There were many dishes around the fountain of delicacies to skewer and roll through the fascinating sheet of cascading chocolate, but I did not fancy my girls setting up a production line in order to consume as many skewers of dipped strawberries and marshmallows as they could.  So I forced them to each take one skewer (less chance of being speared?) and a pile of sweet things and I dipped the side of each plate under the chocolate until a puddle of the stuff joined the other food on their plates and went back to the table with them.  Alas, they soon desperately needed more dipping sauce, and then more things to dip…and so on, until I gave up and sat there resigned as they went back and forth like greedy orphans, faces wreathed in brown sticky smudges.  They got the stuff nearly everywhere, and the polite half smiles of the waiting staff told me we were not flavour of the month and the sooner we left, the sooner they could plunge the table linen into bleach and mop the floor around our table.

The following day I signed the girls into a kid’s activity programme, which they were enthusiastic to be abandoned to, being completely fed up with their mother’s company.  Having to check out from the room meant no privacy or escape for me, but I checked the bags into the concierge and sat by the edge of the pool, watching the world go by instead.