I WOKE UP IN SINGAPORE

The strangest thing happened. I was very, very sleepy, so I went to bed. And when I woke up, I was in this sparkling megacity on the southern most point of a beautiful tropical island in the South China Sea.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Before I fell asleep, there was miles and miles to go. Among the simple tasks that needed to be completed...

Get my 2010 taxes as "done" as possible before leaving the country. Thankfully, I had supervision from Ivy.

And then the packing. Oy, the packing. What would you pack if you were going somewhere for a minimum of 1 year? How about:
12 button-down shirts
3 sweat shirts
19 t-shirts
6 pairs of shoes
22 pairs of underwear
4 pairs of shorts
8 pieces of various lounge wear
6 pieces of various work-out wear
4 pairs of dress pants
25 pairs of socks
1 pair of jeans
laptop & external hard drive
video camera & all cables/attachments
several months supply of contact lenses
various and sundry toiletries including, but not limited to, a stock of favorite shaving cream, facial potions from LUSH, favourite shampoo from BodyShop...
files with medical/dental records, employment pass applications, visa documents etc
yoga dvd's, meditation cd's
Oh, .... and the parka you forgot to leave in the car at the Toronto airport.

Then, just how would you pack all of that? Or, to put it another way, would you be willing to try to turn this

into this?

The trip itself, though 22 hours long, was mostly uneventful, but I did manage to jot down a few observations as I chased the sun over the top of the world...

11 p.m., Terminal 3, Pearson Airport, Toronto
Crazy. Tons of people. Full flight. Looooong line to drop drop luggage if you've already checked in via internet. Why is the line for people who haven't checked in moving faster than the line for people who have? Could it be the people with the vast collection of large moving-type boxes who look like they're immigrating back to Hong Kong? Finally reach the counter and make friends with the over-worked woman behind it. I mention Lion King. We become friendly. We work out a cheap deal for me to upgrade to Business Class. Suddenly, the long wait seems unimportant.

12:30 p.m. Departure Gate
There are twelve, yes 12 wheelchairs lined up for pre-boarding at the gate. Each chair is occupied by a tiny, withered, aged, Asian person. Looking at them, I can't shake the feeling that someone will fire a pistol and they will race down the gangway in a death match for the best seats.

1:30 a.m.
Depart Toronto. Dark outside. Spend 14 hours in my little biziness-class-lie-flat-coffin-bed/seat. I actually manage to sleep on a plane for the first time in years.

5:30 a.m.
It is not 4 hours later, it is 14 hours later. We have proven Einstein correct by flying into tomorrow. Still dark outside. Go to business class lounge. Eat. Again.Stare out into the fog as the sun makes a half-hearted attempt to rise.

What's with all the Asians wearing surgical masks? At times it's like being in a B-Horror Movie.

The muzak in Hong Kong airport is playing Mozart. ON THE ACCORDION !!!!

11:35 a.m.
The flight to Singapore departs on time even though it too is packed. Sadly, I am back in Economy seating, listening to the ancient, deaf Chinese guy yell at his wife. If I could understand him, it might actually be interesting. I spend most of the trip with my headphones on fighting oblivious twenty-something beside me for the armrest.

3:45 p.m.
Singapore Immigration doesn't even bat an eyelash. I present them with my passport and my approval letter from the Ministry of Manpower (yes that abbreviates as MOM) and they wave me through without even a cursory glance at my luggage.

4:30 p.m.
Arrive at Marina Bay Sands Hotel.
The front desk clerk seems pleased with herself that my room is ready. All I can think is, "I've been traveling for nearly 24 hours, we're waaaaaay past cocktail hour and there's far too much blood in my alcohol system, and you want to throw a little happy-party because my room is ready just before dinner time?" I still have enough editing power to realize that I might be tired and the teensiest bit cranky. The room is,....well.....what can I say. It's a hotel room. It's a nice hotel room, on the 18th floor of a stunning hotel, with a lovely view of the lagoon and downtown and the gigantic Lion King sign down at street level. But, at the end of the day, it's still a hotel room. I guess I'll just enjoy the perk of having someone make my bed for me.

I've received my schedule from the production office and someone must have really enjoyed typing my name because it appears all over the place for the rest of the coming week. *sigh* Two-hour session with the puppet people tomorrow morning to deal with the giant mask atop my head. In other words, I'll be getting my head screwed on right all morning.