Day 11 - Hong Kong to Singapore

My alarm clock woke me up, as planned, at 4am on the morning of day 11. I got dressed quickly and got my bags together, placing them out in the hall whilst I donned my kilt for the trip. I then checked the whole room (it didn't take long) to ensure that nothing would be left behind. Then I left the keys on the bed and locked the door behind me. Time to go. I dragged my bags (as quietly as I could) past one of the guys that worked at the hostel, Ajibike. I then headed for the lift, and waited as it took its sweet time, as ever, to go up and then decide to come down. The lift would be one thing of Hong Kong which I wouldn't miss. When I was finally at the bus stop, I was witing for the night bus to the airport, and a taxi pulled up. He wouldn't accept that I wanted to get the bus, and kept trying to offer me a ride to the airport. After an exchange of words which are unrepeatable ina public blog, he finally left. I waited for about 15 minutes for the bus, and I was glad when it came, as it was air conditioned (it was quite humid even  at that time in the morning). I placed my large bags in the luggage rack provided, and found seat. Just a bit further down the road, someone else got on, airport bound, and she wanted to pay cash, but couldn't find the right change. Flying Scotsman to the rescue! I moved down to the front of the bus anb found some loose change. Well, I wouldn't be needing it. Once she was paid, she sat down and we got talking. Rachael was from Edinburgh, and she was going to the airport to fly back on the 0830 flight. We chatted about our travels as we travelled to the airport and, when we arrived, we were trying to decide which was the point to get off. I was anxious at trying my tactic of waiting to see where everyone else got off, but was saved by someone who could obviously see our struggle, and told us when we were at the terminal. We found trolleys for our bags, and headed to the departures area. We split, promising to meet up again after check in, and the Scotsman headed off to try his charms on another unsuspecting check-in girl. It worked again, and I got another exit row seat. Brilliant! I also got away with having one bag just over 23kg, but she said it would be okay because the average was under the limit. Then I headed off to find Rachael, and found her at the BA check-in desk. We headed though to the security check, and I prepared to be frisked, as the kilt's buckles always set off the alarm. The search actually turned out quite funny, since the woman wielding the metal detector wand turned out to be five-foot nothing. She had to stand on tip-toes. Once we had been proven not to be terrorists, we heaed to find some food. Rachael said she was not hungry, and went to starbucks, and I headed upstairs to find some sustenance, which came in the form of a scrmbled-egg sausage tray with tomato soup (curious combination) and tea. I took this downstairs only to find that Rachael had dissapeared. I remembered her flight was gate 40-something, so I headed to the other end of the terminal, which had a bad effect on the condition of my as yet uneated breakfast, as the lid in the tea turned out to be ever-so-slightly loose, allowing tea to spill out onto the tray. Thankfully, the tray survived the trip, and I reached gate 41 to find Rachael not there. So I headed back to the other end of the concourse for one last check. upon reching there, I found that Rachael had been sitting on the side of the concourse opposite Stabucks and, of course, I hadn't been looking that way. I settled down to eat my (not slightly tea-flavoured) breakfast, which was actually not bad. The soup, although an unusual addition, brought something new to the table. I didn't actually drink the tea, though, as i realised that i hadn't asked for milk. I also had a slight mishap involving scrambled egg and kilt, which resulted in a quick rush to the toilet to prevent staining, which seemed to be successful. After breakfast had been consumed, Rachael's flight was getting close to boarding, so we grabbed our bags, and I decided to show her the easier way to get from one side of the termianl to the other. A purpose-built underground railway. Nifty, eh? We reached Rachael's gate, and by the time we had exchanged email addresses, she had to board. Then I headed off to gate 29 for my turn, which came quite soon after, as we were told to start queuing just as I arrived, and so I ended up second in line to board. This changed when th guy infron was taking forever to find his boarding card, resulting in me being first on the plane. Upon boarding, I was accosted by a few of the stuardesses and one, named Cherry (I kid you not), asked for a photo, as she had never met someone so tall, and she had never met someone in a kilt. I also got aked if I knew how to play the bagapipes, which seems to be the second question, after, 'is that a kilt?'I was then seated, and I took off my kilt (the buckles add too much width for me to reach the tv controls when I'm in the seat). I awaited my seating partners, and was joined by a fashionista, who looked as if she had trodden on something quite nasty, and her escort, who lookead as if he had fallen out of the gay tree and hit every branch on the way down (a purple jacket, ripped jeans and crocodile-skin pointy-toed boots will do that for a guy). Thankfully, they didn't seem to speak english, so I got peace to watch Star Trek (for the third time). The flight was uneventful, the food ok, though unmemorable, since I can't recall what I had (I think it was chicken noodles, though I;m not sure). Upon arrival inChangi airport I had to queue for quite a while for immigration, but once at the desk it was fine (there was only one form, and no health check). Baggage ollection was next, followed by custons, where the guy asked me if there was anything I wasn't sure about declaring. I remembered the gravy granules (thanks, Auntie Julie and Auntie Lisa), but I was told they would be fine, and my bags were x-rayed before I was free to go (I suppose he thought I looked a bit suspicious in a kilt). I then carried my bags outside, past taxi, all offering business, and up the escalator to the skytrain, which I s quite a piece of engineering (look it up in wikipedia). I was taken by the skytrain to terminal 3, where I could catch the MRT. I took the lift down to the MRT platform, and then the train to Tanah Merah Interchange, where I crossed the platform to take another train to Kembangan as dictated by the instructions sent from the hostel. I then exited the station, only to find no reference to which way to go, and I decided to give in and take a taxi. The taxi journey took 3minutes, and cost S$5. Then I headed for the hostel, which turned out to be up 3 flights of stairs, with not a lift in sight. I was just about dead when I reached the top, and then I had to a self check in, which was a simple process involving a safe code and some money. I then entered the room and dumped my stuff before having a shower and a change. I then put my dirty clothing (left over from Hong Kong) into the washing machine, and went to get some grub. I had intended to eat down in the cafe downstairs, but the menu turned out to consist entirely of fish (fishballs, fish skin or fish head curry). I consulted the Singapore version of the bible of Lonely planet, and headed off into the MRT system to Tanjong Pagar, and to a Hawker Center which I was told was within walking distance of the MRT. It was, but I had gine in the wrong direction. After a panicky moment, I consulted the pull-out map and righted myself, and then I set off for some food. I had a look around the stalls, eventually finding one I liked the look of, and had Wonton Noodle Soup accompanied by pineaplle drink. It was lovely. I then headed back into the MRT and too a train to Raffles Place, to explore, and found a beautiful, twinklingly lit river which will be returned to with a camera. Then, yawning, I decided to head back to the hostel and do a bit of blogging before turning infor the night. My dorm buddies arrived around midnight, and after a quick 'hi' I was sound asleep.