The God of Wealth
English is the official language here, though Singapore’s primary ethnicities are Chinese, Malay, Tamil, & Eurasian. Nearly a full fifth of the population are expatriates, mostly here for business.
As such, Singapore hosts the most densely mixed variety of religions I’ve ever seen. Indian women in parrot-bright saris, Tamil men with flecks of gold leaf at their foreheads, Sikhs in colorful turbans, Muslim women in flowing hijab, Buddhists burning joss sticks, Christians, even a synagogue, &—finally—nothing. People who are openly not religious.
After all, business is the primary religion of Singapore. It’s an idealized extreme of capitalism here. In the Chinese temples, they literally worship the god of Wealth. Among many, many other gods. Here's a picture of him:
The god of Wealth is very busy here. New businesses sprout up all the time. On Clarke Quay it’s all high concept & quick turn over. Everything looks big budget, shiny & new. Illuminated metal lotus leaves umbrella the narrow strip between quay-side clubs. The air is so bath warm, the night sky so mottled with colored lights, that I wasn't always sure if I was inside or out.
Take the C-Clinic bar, for instance. This corner joint is set up to look like a hospital clinic. Appetizing, no?
Outside you sit in waiting room-like benches with silver cushions. White scrim partitions separate the low metal tables. Brightly colored drinks (many of them blood red) are served from tubes running down from real IV bags, which hang on IV poles along the sidewalk. O2 tanks blow misty, refrigerated oxygen outward from the doorway, through which orderlies in white can usher you to be seated at operating tables, complete with big circular sets of adjustable lights overhead. Silverware arrives on instrument trays.
Does anyone have good associations with hunger or eating & hospitals? Maybe just the desire to drink.
We settled instead at the Kandi Bar, in candy-apple red seats outside, a live drumming performance just across the road. My Singaporean host ordered me a mojito.
The God of Wealth has been good to my hosts as well. My first night away from Indonesia I stayed with a gracious couple we’d met on a bike ride in Ubud, Bali. I dropped my luggage at KK’s general medical practice—called: The Medical Practice—where one can have one's body cured, depilated, impregnated & Botoxed. Maybe all at once? Singaporeans like efficiency.
Her penthouse apartment is huge, pristine & empty of the ‘stuff’ that clutters my own house. The guest shower alone was a stone garden complete with potted plants, windows on two sides (one opening oddly into the bookless, teak library) & nearly as large as my Jakarta study.
A wall-eyed Pekingese dog named Puffy guards the domain. In our absence, it deposited solid statements about its solitude on the parquetry & marble.
They have just purchased "landed property" however, a rare thing indeed in the world's second most densely populated nation. This means they'll soon have a house with a yard.
LCT's first order of business, he says, is to get a Labrador.
As such, Singapore hosts the most densely mixed variety of religions I’ve ever seen. Indian women in parrot-bright saris, Tamil men with flecks of gold leaf at their foreheads, Sikhs in colorful turbans, Muslim women in flowing hijab, Buddhists burning joss sticks, Christians, even a synagogue, &—finally—nothing. People who are openly not religious.
After all, business is the primary religion of Singapore. It’s an idealized extreme of capitalism here. In the Chinese temples, they literally worship the god of Wealth. Among many, many other gods. Here's a picture of him:
The god of Wealth is very busy here. New businesses sprout up all the time. On Clarke Quay it’s all high concept & quick turn over. Everything looks big budget, shiny & new. Illuminated metal lotus leaves umbrella the narrow strip between quay-side clubs. The air is so bath warm, the night sky so mottled with colored lights, that I wasn't always sure if I was inside or out.
Take the C-Clinic bar, for instance. This corner joint is set up to look like a hospital clinic. Appetizing, no?
Outside you sit in waiting room-like benches with silver cushions. White scrim partitions separate the low metal tables. Brightly colored drinks (many of them blood red) are served from tubes running down from real IV bags, which hang on IV poles along the sidewalk. O2 tanks blow misty, refrigerated oxygen outward from the doorway, through which orderlies in white can usher you to be seated at operating tables, complete with big circular sets of adjustable lights overhead. Silverware arrives on instrument trays.
Does anyone have good associations with hunger or eating & hospitals? Maybe just the desire to drink.
We settled instead at the Kandi Bar, in candy-apple red seats outside, a live drumming performance just across the road. My Singaporean host ordered me a mojito.
The God of Wealth has been good to my hosts as well. My first night away from Indonesia I stayed with a gracious couple we’d met on a bike ride in Ubud, Bali. I dropped my luggage at KK’s general medical practice—called: The Medical Practice—where one can have one's body cured, depilated, impregnated & Botoxed. Maybe all at once? Singaporeans like efficiency.
Her penthouse apartment is huge, pristine & empty of the ‘stuff’ that clutters my own house. The guest shower alone was a stone garden complete with potted plants, windows on two sides (one opening oddly into the bookless, teak library) & nearly as large as my Jakarta study.
A wall-eyed Pekingese dog named Puffy guards the domain. In our absence, it deposited solid statements about its solitude on the parquetry & marble.
They have just purchased "landed property" however, a rare thing indeed in the world's second most densely populated nation. This means they'll soon have a house with a yard.
LCT's first order of business, he says, is to get a Labrador.
posted by Anne E. Campisi at 7:16 PM
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