Le trois avril

OK so this is my third message in one day. I can't help it. With free Internet at both Sydney and Singapore airports, it's too tempting. And I've got plenty of spare time before I board my second plane.

I can tell you about my afternoon in Singapore, if you don't mind.

The A380, flight SQ220, lands at about 2:20pm this afternoon. I get off, after spending 8 hours glued to the screen and to the window. I watched "Conversations avec mon jardinier" or something like that, a French film starring Daniel Auteuil and another famous actor, so famous that I forgot his name. It was nice. Then I simply listened to music, watched an episode of Flight of the Conchords, a crazy New-Zealander show, and Little Britain. Tonight, I'll probably watch the Kite Runner. I've just finished the book (I gave Gulliver a little break to get on with Hosseini's fantastic novel) so now I can compare it with the film.

So I get off the plane and book the free shuttle bus to get into town. I'm the only one on the bus and I'm accompanied by Kelly, a charming tour guide (she's about 60, just so you know). She repeats about 10 times that I have to be back at the bus stop at about 7.30pm even though pick-up time is at 7:45pm. No worries.

And so I venture into crowded Singapore. I discover Little India and the Malay quarter. However, the lovely walk ends quickly when an equatorial mix of thunder and pouring rain suddenly turns the city into a swimming pool. Since then, my feet have been making splotch splotch sounds which indicate that the smell in the plane could be quite revolting (and I don't care whether that sounds English or not). I'm not impressed by Singapore. Just another town with huge skyscrapers, like churches to celebrate the love of the Money-God. There are some charming buildings but their beauty is spoiled by those towering buildings in the background.

I find Starbucks, get myself a mocha with whipped cream and a chocolate cake. I sit on an armchair and wish I could dry. An hour or two later, my trousers and my t-shirt are dry. My socks and shoes are soaked. I'm thinking this is not nice. Oh well. Nevermind.

At 7:50pm, the bus picks me up. This time it's a coach. I'm still the only one in it though. Nice ride by night.

8.30pm. I arrive back at the airport. No queue at the checkpoint. Too easy. One stamp, a smile. And off we go to the lounge. A quick chat with the Singapore Airlines ladies and I go to Subway for a quick sandwich. Apparently we'll get some refreshments, a snack and then breakfast on the plane.

I go to the loo (interesting!) and look at myself in the mirror. Doux Jesus, my hair is so long! But I actually like it. I mean, someone has to. Long, curly hair, a la Earth Wind & Fire (dance, dance, dance, oh-oh-oh-oh, dance, boogie wonderland!).

Jetlag has turned me into an online chatterbox. I just can't stop blogging. OK maybe I should stop and get that right lens back on my eye. Somehow, it's gone under my eye-lid. It happens when I rub my eyes. C'est dur la vie.

See you in Cape Town :-).