Weird: Seeing a Nihang Sikh in Singapore.
Truly Weird: Seeing an ethnic Chinese Nihang Sikh in Singapore.
There are no pictures, for the simple reason that it is not wise to take chances invading the privacy of a member of a martial race who is carrying a three foot long kirpan.
I am off to Singapore for the next two weeks on *cough*a shareholder sponsored junket *cough cough* training.
During the course of training I will be staying at two five star hotels. It’s hard to pick the best thing about this sort of luxurious accommodation. There are two very strong contenders.
The first is the free breakfast. The idea of a breakfast buffet where I eat as much as I can before its time to head off to the seminar rooms is beguilingly attractive. When it’s being expensed to my cost code rather than to my salary account, it’s nirvanic. But it’s still not a clear winner.
Because there is the other, equally strong contender: free laundry.
Yes, free laundry. I am currently dumping all my clothes into my suitcase so that they can be washed and ironed by professional launderers (who, I just realised, will be Chinese, thus making this an even better deal). After six months of having my clothes washed by a maid who believes that the best way to deal with clothes is tough love, and who leaves the ironing to me, I will finally have an opportunity to have all my clothes stainfree, fluffy, sweet smelling, and crisply ironed. The mind reels in delight.
Right then. Time to get back to packing.
PS: Ritwik, you will have to wait a little longer for the Sohrabuddin and Idiotarians post. If I write a long post while in Singapore, it will imply a failure on my part to spend my free times out partying with an international contingent and Mr. Walker.