Heat of early afternoon. Sunlight dazzles. Sky is china blue muddied by the brown of my sunshades. The sea is a bowl of light.
A catamaran tacks out to sea. Jet skis roar.
A body hangs limp from the orange yellow green parasail as it circles the bay behind a motorboat. A thin Indian, black as dark chocolate, tries to persuade some Singaporeans to have a go.
A Malay girl with hair to her waist wades in the waves, her baju plastered to her skin . She could be a mermaid.
Families picnic on mengkuang mats under the casuarinas, opening packages of brown paper.
A thin man reeking of desperation tries to sell Buddha statues. Very lucky.
Waiters pack away the remains of the al fresco Christmas buffet lunch.
An African woman holds bread to her mouth in the tips of her long fingers. When she stands she is a Giacommeti statue, tall and slender. She runs across the lawn to her baby.
Two Europeans, paunchy and sun burnt, skim a Frisbee.
Koko the clown (mop of fluorescent orange hair, white face, hooped baggy costume to make him wobble as he walks, and huge false feet) terrifies a baby in a highchair. Pulls out a handful of sweets from his pocket.
Crows perched hopefully on the backs of white chairs, and a flutter of sparrows search for crumbs around the tables.
A lizard, (skin of beaten copper and silver, black holes for ears) stops and tastes the air with the flick of a tongue.
Batik sarongs displayed for sale on a washing line like a line of flags. A monstera plant twines around the rain tree.
On the Events board of the Rasa Sayang: Kampong Experience. A photograph of a large European learning to tie a sarong. Others sit cross-legged, uncomfortable, on a tikar, wearing socks, and awkwardly eating rice, fried chicken and acar with their fingers.
Fifty years ago my father came here on Christmas leave. Took funny photos with his mates (that my mother later threw away).
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