Immigrant: while the travel and the immigrant both explore the city, only under exceptional conditions does the traveler have a reason to go to IKEA. The immigrant, of course, is on a mission to find furnishings and necessaries for the new apartment. Pots, pans, dishes, flatware, glasses, a bed, a mattress, a computer desk, floor lamps, table lamps. Lots of IKEA things. Happily, the internet is more than cooperative in telling where not one but two stores are in Singapore. With an address in hand, it’s a simple matter to check on GoThere.sg to find out what combination of trains and buses will get me from here to there.
Most of the places I’ve gone so far have been in the intensely urban part of the city (as opposed to the still densely populated but marginally less urban other parts of the city – it seems silly to call them “suburbs” – I have yet to see a two story colonial house with a white picket fence around a large yard with freshly mowed, deep green grass!) The train to Queenstown station, however, emerged from its underground tunnel and ran under the open sky for several stops before I alighted. It was only a few steps to the bus stop, where I began to watch for the 195. Eight or so other bus lines stopped here, and there was a more or less constant stream of taxis that cruised by hoping for a fare. When the 195 finally came by, about a dozen of us boarded. Unlike the bus we rode on day 5 of our Look/See, this bus was neither air-conditioned nor did is have a display of the next stop comng up.
That is a problem on an unfamiliar bus route. In an unfamiliar city. Happily, GoThere provided me with good intelligence – a map, and the instruction to get off at the second stop. Which I did, looked around, saw no IKEA, checked the bus route description at the shelter, and discovered that IKEA was still a couple of kilometers and about seven stops away! Ugh. Hot and in the middle of nowhere and waiting – again! – for the 195 bus.
When it finally stopped, I checked with the driver and asked him to help me with the stop I needed. In fact, it was a few turns and several stops (or, as the driver said, “not far”), and then the Big Blue Store with the Bright Yellow logo showed up and half the riders left the bus. Easy when you know how.
A couple of times in the store, I forgot where I was. Prices are in dollars (Sing dollars, of course, but the price tags don’t make a point of that). The furniture was standard IKEA, and the shopping population looked just like what we were used to seeing in the San Francisco store. It was like a flashback.
The 195 also runs down the other side of the street, back to the MRT. The bus stopped, I hopped on, and this time I was prepared to wait and watch. This time, at the second stop, there was a big, industrial looking structure that was curiously like an MRT station might look. And most of the riders were leaving the bus. When in doubt, ask someone young – they’ll know and probably speak good English into the bargain. “Yes, this is the MRT. Ah – the Queenstown MRT.” That’s the one I want. Thanks.
I’m still trying to figure out how it takes 15 minutes to get there (waiting time not included) and 2 minutes to get back. Maybe next time, I’ll just take a taxi.
ARE YOU THE IMMIGRANT, mIKE? I’M NOT SURE IF IT’S YOU. AND THE STORY WAS VERY GOOD. TOO BAD YOU COUILD NOT TAKE YOUR BART TICKETS TO SING. BY THE WAY, I AM REALLY USING AND APPPRECIATING THEM. THANK YOU.
It is me, indeed, until Nancy arrives, then it will be us. I’m also the bachelor, but just until she gets here.