Slow ride, take it easy

Singapore is lovely and lazy. Because it's so damn hot, we usually just cat around the house, drinking coffee and eating fruit and blowing scrupulously through a stack of New Yorkers until the early afternoon, when we attempt some sort of adventure. Lucy's parents hosted a lovely dinner party for her father's birthday and invited all their kooky scientist friends, and we all became very drunk off an endless vat of champagne and excellent wine and ate the most delicious courses of squid and fennel and sweet corn and red snapper and lamb chops and, for dessert, vanilla ice cream with truffles, followed by an assortment of whiskeys and cigars. I drunkenly poured myself a snifter of Blue Label, proclaimed it tasted like gasoline, and switched back to champ. Let's see, what else have we done? We went to Chinatown and ate heaps of Chinese food for $1.50. A lot of our excursions have been gastronomically based, in accordance with my desire to, predictably, make this trip, if not my entire existence, "a culinary experience." Yesterday it rained so we stayed inside nursing our hangovers for most of the day, and then went to the movies, and then lost ourselves in this wild underground shopping mall, that was connected, via a series of underground tunnels, to another underground shopping mall, which was connected... you get the idea; one could shop for days without seeing the light of day. This place is a trip. This morning I predict we will make a fruit salad, polish off the remains of our "Asian Invasion" filmfest (1/2 of Lost In Translation + Chungking Express), and then decide how adventurous we are feeling.