Bus travel had never been so comfortable. The photos in my gallery provide proof: every seat had a small screen showing movies and music selections. The five- or six-hour journey flew by. I arrived in Singapore with no money and no map. Expecting to be dropped in a central location, I instead found myself outside a hotel on the edge of the city. I hired a taxi to take me to several hotels on my list, stopped at an ATM to pay the driver, and tried to check in. Unfortunately, all the private rooms were booked, but space was available in a backpackers’ room, with a private room promised for the following night. That suited me, especially at $7.50 USD a night. In the end, I stayed in the large shared room every night and saved some money. I was travelling alone and was not particular about hotel rooms, and only one other person stayed there each night.

Singapore was an adventure in itself. I partly regretted how much work I was doing because it prevented me from exploring the city fully. I also learned that I had a cousin living there whom I regrettably did not see, although she had a baby the day after I left and was understandably preoccupied. On the first day, I walked for hours trying to find an internet cafe. I bought a prepaid Starbucks card, but at $6 USD an hour, I decided to use it sparingly. Instead, I found a much cheaper place around the corner. Its website advertised access for “laptop/notebook users,” but on arrival, I quickly realised that the cafe catered almost exclusively to gamers. I spoke with the staff, who let me sit near their desk. I spent so much time there that I occasionally covered for them when they stepped out and eventually met everyone who worked there. Fortunately, I nearly caught up on my work.

One of the most eye-opening experiences came not from sightseeing but from reading a book. By my third night, my eyes were sore from looking at the laptop, and I wanted a “normal” book rather than one of the computer titles I had brought. At the hotel, I found No Money, No Honey, a book about Singapore’s sex industry. It became one of the most interesting books I had read in some time. Neither glamorising nor condemning the trade, it examined prostitution through logistical, moral, and economic lenses, using 12 personal stories as examples. The next day, I saw the city’s discreet businesses differently. Signs advertising “massage upstairs” took on another possible meaning, and a hotel called the “Tai Hoe Hotel,” positioned between two massage lounges, struck me as an unfortunate coincidence. Whether or not my assumptions were correct, the book had opened my eyes to a different reality.

Another highlight was a video conference with my cousin in London and a friend in Taiwan. With three parts of the world represented, I felt distinctly international. They were two of the people I spoke with most often during my stay in Singapore.

I also began to recognise a pattern in my international travel: I repeatedly procrastinated before boarding flights. At LAX, I woke in the car at 7:00am for a 10:00am departure, which ultimately left at 11:00. In Seoul, I spent an hour looking for the bus and arrived at the airport barely an hour before departure. But Singapore takes the prize. I arrived at the airport four and a half hours early, dropped off my bag, and, rather than wait there, headed downtown to visit an IT mall and look at mobile phones. Technology and Kelvin get along very well, which can be dangerous for timekeeping. I lost track of time in a bookstore while trying not to buy anything. When I asked the time, the reply was, “It is 6:29.” Oh no. My flight left at 8:00pm. I ran towards the Metro, briefly became lost outside the mall, hurried down the escalator, and jumped aboard. After ten minutes, I changed trains at an interchange and finally reached the airport at 7:15. Running up the escalators, I kept hoping the flight would be delayed. The departure board read, “Sydney: Last Call.” To make matters worse, I still had to collect my bag and travel to another terminal. I reached Terminal 1 around 7:27 and was beginning to think I would miss the flight. Fortunately, an English-speaking check-in agent asked her manager what could be done, and they issued my ticket and allowed me through security. Belt off and metal items out, I ran through the checkpoint and towards the final gate. A school group was still boarding, which bought me enough time that I even waited briefly in line. Security staff watched me closely because I was sweating, but I made it onto the plane.

The flight was an adventure as well. I somehow had a window seat, and a Malaysian woman in the middle seat wore a sticker reading, “I require assistance.” I soon understood why: she spoke and read no English, spoke only limited Chinese, and could not read Chinese well. When she needed to complete her immigration card, I helped by drawing pictures to explain each field. Try using pictures and gestures to describe “nationality” and “residence in Australia.” Together, we completed the card. I said goodbye to her and the Australian passenger in the aisle seat, having been given the desserts and other food she could not eat, and headed to my transfer. After passing through security again, I waited 20 minutes to board. Three bumpy hours later, I arrived in New Zealand.