Singapore Song
I arrived here, fairly late one day not too long ago. I'm still having trouble trying to figure out what day and time it is here but I think I've got it now. I'm fourteen hours ahead of the Pacific Coast. When it's noon for my dogs, it's 4 a.m. for me the next morning. But enough boring details. I don't need to know what day or time it is as it's good enough that it's about 85 degrees and I wear shorts and a t-shirt every day while I sit on the flying bridge or in the spacious lounge of a $2 million yacht. I'll admit, it's a bit ridiculous as I walk around fifty-five feet of shining fiberglass and get waited on all day long by a wonderful Malaysian crew. It's embarassing to have someone keep asking me if I would like a cold drink, if they can bring me food from the restaurant on shore, if they can do my laundry.
I'm not just in a foreign country, I'm in a foreign life.
My full name is now "Very Good, Mr. Scotty" for some strange reason. Just "Scott" would be fine however, I'm not complaining as it warms my heart to hear myself incessantly referred to as "very good" each day: "Very Good, Mr. Scotty would you like a Perrier? Very Good, Mr. Scotty can I bring you another coffee? Very Good, Mr. Scotty, please may I process your laundry?"
On January 20th, I'll wake up and be just plain old Scott one more time. Until then, I'm spending almost all day every day writing and loving every minute of it. I asked for a "review" today and got a huge thumbs up which means something very good to me. This whole trip is a "trial period" for writing and if I "pass" I get to stay on the project and see it through it's completion. Not to jump ahead...but based on a conversation I just had, I think I'm writing the script for a $3 million movie and then sitting on the set during filming. Additionally, I was handed characters for another film idea with a $15 million budget and was asked to see what I could come up with if I needed a break from the current screenplay. If it's good and the two producers like the "synopsis" then I'll be getting another contract around May when I finish this current script.
But enough about me...I just had to put all this down so that I can go back and read it myself since I'm still not sure if I'm dreaming all of this...and know...my boat has come in, so to speak.
Now for the fun stuff...let's talk about the "fine city" of Singapore. First off, I was expecting sort of a third-world, bustling, dirty, crazy, sprawling metropolis. I was basing my expectations off of a trip to the Philipinnes and Indonesia last year. Singapore couldn't be more opposite. It's spotless. There is not a speck of garbage anywhere along any road, any sidewalk, nothing. It's what Disneyland would be if it were a city. The downtown buildings are soaring works of incredible architecture and the cars on the road are no more than four years old before they are exported.
The reason they call this the "fine city" is because there is a fine for almost anything you can do. Speeding tickets are $800. Food on the subway is a $500 fine. Spitting in public is, if I recall, a $2000 fine. Littering is only $1,000. Chewing gum in public is around $800, too. I can't quite remember but my gum is definitely staying in my bag. Dealing drugs is not recommended as it carries the death penalty. It's printed on your customs and immigration form which you fill out on the plane before you land. The flight attendants politely remind you that it is illegal to traffic drugs in Singapore and to please pay attention to the penalty listed on the form. Sadly, some Americans think it's a joke and I'm told they are sitting on death row without a way out. They don't mess around over here...no pun intended.
On to the Marina. It's enormous. I feel like I'm at some sort of resort complex. There is wireless high speed internet which reaches all the way out to the docked boat with an "excellent" strength signal. The pool on shore is filled with four waterfalls which cascade over a long waterslide hidden inside the large volcanic rock structure surround by swaying palms. The weather is spectacular mixed with torrential but incredibly warm rains that are nothing short of amazing to watch. It comes down so hard at times that you have to hold your conversations because not even "Very Good, Mr. Scotty" can yell over the din.
Soon enough, the rain subsides each day after it comes through and pouts for a bit in protest of the otherwise sunny and beautiful atmosphere. At night, Michael, the director and I spend hours on the flying bridge going over plot and scenes and dialogue and characters while this wonderfully full and bright moon softly lights the boats all around. During the day, birds sing an incredibly melodic tune as I write under palms when I tire of the deck of the boat. This is truly an experience which would be a vacation for most yet...somehow this is "work?" Sadly, writing all day and most of the night doesn't even feel like work to me on top of all this. It's actually pure joy.
The only thing that is a struggle is jet lag. I have a horrendous time trying to sleep at night as it's the start of the day back home and I haven't been able to really switch my internal clock very well. Around now, I tend to take an hour or two nap and that seems to be enough to get me wide awake again for a sleepless night under the stars writing to my heart's content while wearing shorts and drinking bottled water and munching on the sweetest, freshest fruit I've ever tasted.
I don't know what I did to deserve these moments...but thank God, I did what ever it was. The only thing that could make it more perfect would be able to share it with someone special but those days are still to be. Until then, I have these days and they're good enough...in fact, they're "Very Good"...time for Mr. Scotty to get back to...???work???
Day Unknown?
I step off the plane in Brussels, Belgium. The first leg of my first circumnavigation is behind me. I’m greeted outside of arrivals by Mark, an associate of my friend Michael who has hired me on to write a movie script. Ten days ago, I got a phone call, then a “round the world” plane ticket, then a contract. Here I am.
It's nice to be back in Europe. I like the feel of it. It’s like a hug, in some ways. The buildings are old and quaint, the cobble-stoned streets have authenticity, and the people are all speaking something other than English. When they do speak English, I strain my way through their thick accents.
It’s a new yet familiar experience, all of this. At the same time, it’s a surreal dream come true and an amazing opportunity for me as a writer, as a person. In short, my friend did very well during the dot-com boom. Being very smart, he diversified his portfolio and actually grew his finances ever since, despite the bubble-bursting. He now finds himself a bit bored with technology and investments and real estate. He’s longing to try something entirely new, entirely creative.
He’s decided to make movies. He’s incredibly well-connected and is able to get great advice from top people in “the industry.” I was hired on after a few brief phone calls and several writing samples.
So, as I said...here I am. After driving into Antwerp with Mark, I was let loose to my own devices for a bit. I stayed in a bed and breakfast they had set up for me. It sits in the armpit of a towering cathedral in the center of the city. I wandered about, trying to get lost, but the landmark keeps me easily oriented. I took some pictures, but I’ve got a lot on my mind of late and seem to be unable to capture the feeling of this place. I decide to not take any more and switched to “just observe” mode.
Some observations: driving and walking are much looser here. It’s hard to know if you’re on the sidewalk or the street as cars use wide sidewalks to get around when there aren’t a lot of pedestrians. Antwerp used to be one of the largest ports in Europe and it’s still home to a large diamond trade. My friend owns two buildings within downtown, near the main square where they serve “Gluhwein,” a warm spiced, red wine drink for the holidays. The French Fry, really is not a French Fry, it’s a “Belgian Fry” or “frituur.” American G.I.’s in WWII just lumped Belgians and French together, ate the fries and called them “French.”
The frituur is an art form here. Entire restaurants are dedicated to serving nothing but. Six-foot high plastic sculptures of bags of frituurs stand about outside restaurant doors, enticing people in so they can order and choose from 70 different toppings. Yes, that’s a seven and a zero. In America, the French fry is nothing more than an afterthought. Here, it’s an institution, parallel to Starbucks’ evolution of the simple coffee bean. Speaking of Starbucks, there aren’t any. In fact, it’s nigh-impossible to find “coffee take-away” or any sort of hot caffeine to go. They make you sit and relax if you want a coffee or espresso.
They also give you some sort of little cookie on the side, no extra charge. Of course, you CAN buy beer in McDonald’s which I almost did when ordering a “Royale with Cheese” to honor
Pulp Fiction’s John Travolta line…my Royale came with frituurs, naturally. Or was it that my frituurs came with a Royale Cheese?
As I walk about, I see a lot more public displays of family love than in America. Grown ups walk about, holding hands with their older mothers and fathers. Everywhere, there seem to be families going about, all hand-in-hand, in groups of four or five. People seem “happy” here, maybe it’s the holidays, but there’s a lack of strife which I feel underlies Americans. Maybe everyone is on vacation and I don’t know it. Bikes are everywhere and all types of people ride them, despite the weather. Even old ladies are riding bikes along with groceries, over ice and snow on the ground. It’s a scene you would not see in car-warp-minded America.
TO THE CASTLE!!! Being a real-estate investor, my friend purchases properties, renovates them and then resells. His latest purchase is an 800 year old, 48 room castle. There’s a website for it somewhere and I’ll add the link to this post at some point. The castle sits on a huge estate, complete with stables, out buildings and a creek with a pond. The agreement for the purchase of Manhattan…yes, THE Manhattan we all know and love, was signed in this castle. The “SS” or German Secret Police used the castle in WWII as a headquarters. Somewhere, underground is a secret tunnel and one of the former owners buried an antique motorcycle in it before sealing it off.
The structure is much different than most “castles” I’ve been in. It’s not one of those huge, stone white things like the “Disney-fied” idea of a castle, but rather it’s an overgrown mansion complete with its own cathedral, fully decorated with amazing stained glass windows. There are two main “towers” which still have the “slots” where arrows could be fired out in medieval days at the enemy. The door key is, as you would imagine, one of those big keys like you see them using for jail cells in old movies. As I walked about, exploring and getting lost, I chuckled at the fact that the tiles under my feet, the stairs I climbed, the windows I looked out of, were all older than the United States…some by hundreds of years. Originally, I was going to stay in the castle and work from there, however it’s about to undergo renovations so everything got moved to the downtown Antwerp buildings. As we locked up the huge wooden doors in the dark of night, I was a bit glad to not stay there considering the “ghost-like” feel of the place after dark.
So, my short time here is coming to an end and the next leg of this adventure is almost two weeks aboard a yacht in Singapore, traveling all through Malaysia to the North while spending long days screenwriting. Yea, I’ll admit…life is pretty cool right now and all this sure beats the stuffing out of sitting in cubicle for ten hours a day. I don’t mean to rub it in anyone’s face if that’s what you’re actually doing…I’m just saying, I’m pretty happy to be here, doing something unique with my life instead of something typical. I still don’t quite know how this all worked out to get me to this point, but I’ll just accept that I’m here for now, enjoying it as best I can while missing the dogs back home an extreme amount.