Fish Tales

I’m not sure how many people in Singapore ever heard the iconic Wendy’s campaign tagline, “Where’s the Beef”. But, back in the mid 80’s it took America by storm. Everyone was saying it.

It’s a classic case of older being better, considering their current slogan is, “You know when it’s real”. Blah.

Anyway, this week when the inaugural Wendy’s opened in Singapore, the more famous phrase entered my mind – especially when I stopped by for a snack.

More later on why the doors were open

It’s been nearly two years since I’ve eaten a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger and a chocolate FROSTY!

Too bad I didn’t get either one.

Quarter pounder and mini vanilla Frosty

I left the restaurant thinking of several variations of “Where’s the —-“.

Where’s the chocolate?
How could they run out of chocolate for the Frosty’s? Seriously. That’s the most important item on the menu.

Where’s the rest of the Frosty?
A small really means small. They should just call it a Frosty Shot.

Where’s the spoon?
How can you eat Frosty without a spoon? Not right.

Where’s the Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger?
Not on the menu. The best burger Wendy’s makes. Not on the menu.

Where’s’ the dollar menu?
Okay, I get this one. Exchange rates, etc.

Where’s the air conditioning?
Broken A/C. 90 degrees, high humidity, no fans. And heat pouring across the counter from the kitchen. Oh ya, and profusely sweating employees.

A little sweat with your food?

Where’s Wendy’s? Not in Singapore.

Yep, that famous American Dairy Association ad slogan applies to us, way out here in Singapore.

Just not quite as much.

Why’s that?

Because the milk in Asia just doesn’t taste right. It’s hard to put a finger on it, but to generalize… it’s sour. In the “the expiration date is nearing” kind of sour.

We’ve tried all the brands. Same problem. Even the more expensive Australian imports.

All sour.

So, when I noticed a new brand at the Cold Storage grocery store, I nearly moo’d myself.

California Sunshine Ultrafresh.

Got (California) Milk?

The name says it all.

What a great branding strategy. No fancy names. No gimmicks. Just let everyone know the milk is from California. That’s enough.

And, the price is about the same as the Indonesian milk down the shelf.

Did I mention they make chocolate milk too? They do. And, it’s fabulous.

I think it all has something to do with the California “Happy Cows”. They do make better milk.

Correct that. The best milk (at least in Singapore).

Trying a pool cover-up on for size

I’m not entirely positive, but I think Singaporeans appreciate a good bargain more than most.

When it comes to deals, there are two brands of shoppers. One generally knows what they want and then searches for the best value. The other simply hunts for discounts and then decides if they want it.

This shopping behavior is probably typical in most cultures. But, the latter stereotype feels more prominent than I’m used to.

It’s the classic, “you can’t afford not to buy this” attitude. No matter if it’s needed.

Sales driving purchase decisions.

Case in point. When a UNIQLO store opened in the new 313@Sommerset mall, the place attracted the best of the best bargain hunters.

Elbow to elbow traffic. Literally. I’m not exaggerating.

Why? All the pre-launch advertising featured the upcoming spectacular deals. Nothing about the products, just the pricing.

So, what I observed inside the store shouldn’t have surprise me. But, it did.

They featured, and substantially discounted, typical winter outerwear clothing. That’s right. Down jackets with fur trimmed hoods, parkas, quilted vests, wool coats and flannel shirts filled up nearly a third of the floor space!

My first thought. Why are they selling all this? Answer. Because people are buying it hand over fist.

Beat the heat & humidity with a UNIQLO fleece!

PEOPLE, WE LIVE ON THE EQUATOR!

This reality seemed to escape many of the visitors caught up in the frenzied scene.

UNIQLO fleece for only $19.90? Limited Offer! Can’t afford not to buy it.

UNIQLO beach party fleece

UNIQLO equator wear

New apple "juice drink" at my office

Sugar, water, MILK SOLIDS, conditioners, flavoring, coloring.

What’s all that doing in my juice!?!?

Oh, that’s right. It’s is a “juice drink”.

Silly me.

Since arriving in Singapore, I’ve learned a few things. And one of them is this… if the words “juice drink” appear anywhere on the container, keep shopping. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a watered-down, artificial drink the manufactures attempt to enhance with additives.

Sometimes the words are difficult to see. So, look carefully.

What got me thinking about this? Yesterday, my office switched (hopefully temporarily) juice brands. From a real juice to a “juice drink”. I think I must be getting what I pay for from the pantry refrigerator stocked with free beverages.

Not my kind of juice.

This must not be an isolated occurrence, because the supermarket shelves are overflowing with “juice drinks”. They look so deceiving with their band names. Peel Fresh, Fruit Tree, and even Sunkist. I’m not fooled. They look tasty, but I see those two words.

There's a reason it's only $2.55

This whole situation makes me miss my all-natural, not-from-concentrate, no-additives, inexpensive Florida orange juice, with pulp. Sure, it’s available here. But, for an arm and a leg.

Great price @ $7.50. Normally $9.10.

View from sidewalk

It took several months of passing by the stacked shipping containers between my apartment and the neighboring construction site to realize something.

People live in them. Piled three levels high.

A closer inspection reveals all the normal associations of home. Laundry drying on the front porch. A sportscast glowing from the television. Dinner cooking, filling the air with delicious curry aromas.

Everything you’d expect from home. Except for living in a dirty shipping container with several other guys right next to a construction site stocked with heavy-duty equipment!

Not the typical, idealistic American middle-class home with a white picket fence, that’s for sure.

Far from it.

In clean, almost sterile, Singapore these living conditions feel out of place. It doesn’t fit the stereotype. But, it must be tolerated in the name of progress.

Often the entire city seems to be under construction and that can get expensive. So concessions must be made.

View from above

In fact, the average Singapore boom-town construction worker makes less than USD 16-18 a day. That’s less than 5000 dollars a year.

Contrast that to the expensive high-rise condo they are building, where a single unit could sell for as much as USD 2 million.

Assuming 100 workers are employed for an entire year, that total cost only equates to under half a million dollars.

Not bad for the developers if the project nets 200+ units.

Someone is making a killing. And, it’s not the workers.

Rolly-poly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads. Eat them up, yum!

Okay, I don’t personally know about the “yum” part of that famous chorus. But, I do know one thing.

Many Singaporeans enjoy eating fish heads.

This delectable ingredient finds its way into soups, curries and other regional specialties. While this feels completely foreign to me, I’m told it’s quite delicious. And, people who discard the head actually waste the best tasting part of the fish.

I’m not making this up. Reliable sources tell me this.

Reliable sources.

Fish head restaurant near my condo

Happy Diwali

Living in Singapore allows me to appreciate a variety of customs and traditions – primarily because it’s a melting pot of Asian cultures.

Chinese descendents represent the overwhelming majority at nearly 75%. But, the remaining population provides the diversity. Malays, Indians, Eurasians, Arabs and, yes, even some Americans comprise the remaining quarter.

This heterogeneity accommodates a religious assortment that includes Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Taoism and Hinduism.

Definitely a different mix than I experienced living in the US.

Last weekend we visited Little India for dinner. After eating some tasty chicken tikka masala, vegetable curry and butter naan, we decided to check-out the holiday decorations.

Diwali represents a special, spiritual holiday during the Hindu festive season. Known as the “Festival of Lights”, this celebration encourages an awareness of your personal, internal light. Individuals strive to realize their own true nature and accompanying oneness of all things. And ultimately, an increased sense of joy and peace.

But, what’s the best part? The fireworks! And, the streets are filled with colorful decorations.

What does that say about me?

Diwali street decorations, Little India

Diwali holiday market, Little India

Keeping the track safe

Something felt different at the F1 races this year. It was hot. And I was sweaty!

What a big change from the air-conditioned hospitality suite I enjoyed last year. No matter. I still managed to have a good time. Just, not quite as good.

One bonus. The track location.

Rather than being situated along a random corner, I sat directly across from Pit Lane. Right where all the action happens.

Another bonus. Experiencing all the non-race sights.

I’d like to say sounds too. But, even with earplugs, it was almost deafening at times. So, let’s just stick to sights.

People watching seemed way more fun. The crowd in the grandstands felt more authentic than all the corporate mojos.

A size too big

Watching the pit crews refuel the cars and change the tires was amazing. About twenty people working in perfect harmony for less than ten seconds.

For those of you counting, that’s exactly 29 minutes and 50 seconds longer than Jiffy Lube.

Ferrari pit crew

And watching the people supporting the race was fun too. I can’t believe they weren’t melting in those suits and protective gear. And, I was complaining while wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

Pit Girls

Checkered flag

Mine... all mine.

I’ve spent fourteen months scouring the island for Cherry Coke. Chasing shadows. Following whispers. Tracking rumors.

All leading to nowhere. You can’t find it.

How can that be? There are five million people here. Does no one prefer Cherry Coke? Seriously, people!

Because of this, I’ve been relegated to the lesser Coke. Just the plain old secret formula. Yawn.

I’ve officially given up searching. The rollercoaster ride is over. I’ve accepted my fate.

I even talked to one of the main Coke distributors here. There’s a reason why I can’t find it. Apparently, Singaporeans think Cherry Coke tastes too much like cough medicine. And, it sits on the store shelves.

Cough medicine?

So, there I have my answer. Either I import it myself, or go without.

Luckily, fortune happened upon me this morning. My manager, visiting from Hong Kong, bestowed a charitable gift upon me. Never has a six-pack of Cherry Coke been so valuable.*

*Apparently, I will be receiving Cherry Coke in lieu of stock options this year.

Singapore is known for its many laws. No gum chewing. No littering. No spitting. No forgetting to flush a public toilet. And, so on.

The list is long.

In addition to the moderately enforced laws, you’ll find lots of… shall we say, suggestions.

Don’t enter or you may be shot. Don’t swim here or the polluted water will eat your skin away. Don’t feed the monkeys or they’ll rip your face off.

Okay, two of those were (mostly) fake.

Today we saw a funny suggestion at the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve. A sign at the top of a not-so-steep hill cautioned visitors not to run.

Umm… okay.

We decided the person who posted the sign must’ve imagined Singaporeans running, slipping and rolling all the way to the bottom. Knocking over people along the way. A trail of bodies strewn everywhere. Bloody noses, bruised limbs, stubbed toes, torn hangnails.

Maybe not the exact image, but that’s how we imagined and laughed about it.

Oh. And, yes, I ran down. Just because they told me not to!

Almost bit it.