Singapore is the sixth country of the trip, if you include the UK. I do, I had to do some travelling and had lunch there, which is more than I managed in Cambodia.

I’d pointlessly set my alarm to be sure of getting up in time. Disembarking at 9am gave me a chance for a lie-in, an opportunity to make up for a late night. Sadly the people in cabins nearby were less prepared and leaving the ship earlier. I was woken by the stewards hammering on other doors.

Reaching the deck gave me my first sight of Singapore. The deck is awash but the sky clear, perhaps a lull in the rain. The terminal blocked much of the landscape and from the aft deck the ship blocked the rest. The harbour has green water, lots of boats, some dockside cranes. Over the top of the terminal building I could see the big hotel that’s such a landmark, three tall towers with what’s been called a ship resting atop the three of them, although from this vantage point it’s just a grey dreary building with trees on top. I’m sure it’s lovely amongst the trees.

I left the aft deck and entered the living hell known as the Lido. A heaving mass of people, all getting in each others’ way, scrambling for any spare seat, blocking access to the passageways let alone the coffee. Eventually I filled my mug and fled. Deck three was quiet, an almost empty lounge with comfortable seats and space to breath.

20 minutes late getting off the ship, 45 minutes waiting for a passport check, simple joy from the border guard at my signature and I was loose in Singapore.

A quick taxi ride later, an enjoyable journey with a chatty driver, keen to showcase his home city (and country) and full of useful tips. 40 minutes after clearing customs I was in the hotel thinking Singapore is a marvellous place that everybody should come and visit. The taxi driver has travelled a bit in Asia, and spent six months living in Taiwan. He was still marvelling at days and nights there being a different length, instead of dawn and dusk being at 7 o’clock the whole year.

A quick 20 minutes to check email and back out, less encumbered this time. Priority was shopping but very much a slow stroll to get there, the hotel right on the edge of Little India, just down from Little China.

So the great hunt began: How do I acquire Singapore dollars. Little India has money changers, every tenth shop either changing money, offering ‘cash conversion’ (i.e. buying gold jewellery and other items) or providing money transfer services. Dozens of them, none out of sight of another, not a single one offering an actual cash machine.

I found an ICICI bank, a brand I recognise as a major bank in India. They’re closed but there’s a machine in their lobby. You insert cash and it transfers the value to India for you.

Back at the hotel I ask where I might find a cash machine, and also a shopping centre. He sends me to Mustapha’s, and the security guard outside gets confused at the concept of wanting to withdraw money from a bank. Inside I find a stall with a range of beard trimmers and buy one. It costs more than I could get it at home from Amazon, but I’m not at home, and I can now finally trim this excessive facial growth. They offer cash back on your card so I give that a go, only to be turned down. Locally issued cards only. The cashier does though tell me where I can find a cash machine, a competing shopping centre nearby.

I head there and find a splendid place, seven stories of shopping and food. Two ATMs tucked in the second layer of the basement, a long queue, nobody using the third ATM just off to the side. It works, and I finally have local currency.

Some of that was spent almost immediately, Mee Siam at a local cafe, sharing a table with a confused Indian lady and her husband. Mee is noodles and Siam means ‘vegetarian in a Thai style’ except with egg. That’s not even my description, that’s broadly what the waiter told me when I asked.

The noodles weren’t as good as Kowloon but helped my mood considerably, and were worth the £3 they cost. I didn’t finish them, leaving the murky greasy water and the croutons floating on it.

A quick tour of Little India. A temple, a mosque, a catholic school. Classic Indian sights indeed. Also lots of narrow stores, the customers half Indian, the rest a mix of everything Singapore has to offer (basically anything that’s not Scandinavian in look). I spot an old Indian man with what remains of his hair dyed red, then later another with a full beard, ginger except at the grey roots.

In Cambodia everywhere sold phones. Here nowhere seems to, but everywhere sells phone accessories and SIM cards. Tourist SIM for $12, includes 100GB of data. If I was here for the week I’d be tempted. One shop had USB cables on a stand in the street outside, amongst cases and other tat. A small sign said $3 for the USB-C cables so I picked one up, took it in and asked the price. “Two dollars” was the answer, so I bought it. The other one I saw in a shopping centre was $12.

Vending machine – I’ve seen two of these..

Returning to the hotel, a quick check on water prices. 330ml for $3 in the hotel, just $2.30 or $2.80 in the 7/11 outside it. I walked 150 yards to a local shop run by an Indian family, bought 6l for $5.20. That one transaction has covered any currency exchange fees I’ll incur for having cash on me.

Luckily I checked one of the things I wanted to see in Singapore before travelling over to Sentosa Island to see it. Every night at 8pm there’s a light, audio and water show that’s free to watch. Except this week, when it’s not on.

I changed my plans. First, a trip out into what was now a torrential downpour to find an indoor attraction, the national museum being a short tube ride away and free to enter. This plan was flawed for two reasons: It stopped raining by the time I made up my mind and reached the street, and the museum charged me for entry.

I ended up walking there, a mile in air cleared by the rain, the least humid the air had felt for nearly three weeks. That only lasted until I left the museum, the walk back to the hotel leaving me as wet as the rain would have.

The museum itself was a very mixed affair. Veering on shite it occasionally reached boring but never surpassed passable. Except one exhibit:

Story of the Forest was almost worth the ten quid for entry all by itself. At least the museum’s entrance hall was nice.

The walk back gave me a chance to look at the food options outside of Little India. The primary food type in Singapore appears to be ‘edible’.

They do add their own twist that makes it interesting though. These guys did actually have a burger with just beef, cheese and bacon in it too.

Prices are more of a challenge. It looks like my lunch was unfeasibly cheap, with a Thai noodle bar charging $12 for fundamentally the same dish and street kebabs going for $9.

Relaxation, exploration to find an important hotel facility, create a backup of my photos. Oh. The camera recognises that a USB cable is attached but just tells me, “One Moment”. It stays there. The PC doesn’t realise something’s attached either, I appear to have bought a power only cable. FFS. More shopping tomorrow.

My other plan for the night, to make up for having no light show, involved something strangely familiar.

(Non dancers might want to skip the next few paragraphs. To be fair, so might the dancers)

Scarily expensive to get in – $25 for a class night – there were five couples, the teacher and her demo, a DJ (who then taught the intermediate class) and the lady on the door. Another two people turned up in time for the intermediate class, so around 15 people but only 6 men.

That works fine for me. So did being the oldest person in the room. What I couldn’t handle was the floor. I’ve left venues in the UK because of floors like this. Half of it was a non slip lino, the other half concrete. I joined in after the beginner class, survived the first dance then ended up kicking my shoes off in the second, dancing in my socks. One poor lady was fine with me being in socks but constantly panicking about standing on my feet. She followed my lead and we were fine.

The intermediate class had 2 men, 4 women, so I was nice and joined in. High first into mambo, step step turn and lunge. Not a favourite of mine even on a decent floor. The second move was demonstrated. More footwork and a slide. I gave up, I can’t slide on concrete. That’s “unable to walk for two weeks” levels of knee damage and I really don’t want to spend two weeks stuck in a hotel.

The third move had reverse ochoes, even the teacher was struggling with those.

After I dropped out a fifth lady that had joined the class started leading, which was nice.

It was all much the same and yet strangely different. A Wurlitzer in the beginner class is unusual, exiting it with a travelling flick spin not a beginner move and following that with a lean.. hmm.

The music was familiar, although Sweet Child o Mine between the classes left some poor lady dancing with me longer than she’d signed up for.

Waiting for the second class to end I was in pain, my left knee already starting to go, and very tired. But I’d walked over 15km even before starting to dance, not good preparation at all. The venue was a nightclub in a “young people go out for food, drink and noise” part of the city. Vibrant but I felt too old for it. I’d taken a taxi there, no other options would assure arriving still dry and fresh from my shower.

Just 9 hours after finding an atm I’d already spent 75% of my local currency. Singapore appears to be rather expensive. I have nearly two more days here still!

I hadn’t even bought dinner. There wasn’t time between museum and dancing and I’m unlikely to starve in the next couple of days. Still, I couldn’t now afford even a $10 burger let alone a $29 buffet. That seems to be the going price. So another cash machine was required. A lady I was dancing with helpfully told me where to find one, her accent obscuring the directions but the general gist promising.

Inspiration struck: the night club had free WiFi so a quick search online found one 66m away. That’s 66m, on another floor, in a place I’d seen earlier was fenced off.

There was another one not much further away, more accessible, so I braved the crowds and went hunting. Success, a quick balance check (more impressive when displayed in Singapore dollars) and another two days’ budget withdrawn. I’ve set an approximate ‘only spend this much each day’ target and Singapore is destroying that. So much that it’s pretty muched wiped out the savings from the cruise. An unnecessary £20 on taxis hasn’t helped, making the night’s dancing work out at around £4 per dance. To be fair, there were no bad followers and one I had a fantastic dance with, and three of the leads were very good too. One of them wasn’t a bad follow either, although I didn’t ask him for a dance. He did ask one of the other guys; it was the only dance all night that lead hadn’t put his follower in a drop.

I asked the taxi taking me back to drop me at the edge of Little India, wanting to see the district at night, only a few hundred metres to walk to my hotel. He wasn’t sure where to drop me so I told him to pull up next to the group of people trying to wave him down, clearly looking for a taxi. I got out, they got in, I got thanked.

Little India was closed. Maybe one in ten shutters not pulled down, and the people there clearly packing up for the night. After Kowloon this surprised me, but I guess 11pm is late everywhere. So I went straight to my room, pulled off my shoes, took off my socks and threw them in the bin. Never dance in nightclubs. Never hold a dance event in a city centre bar or nightclub. It’s just wrong, and it hurts, and it’s ruined a pair of socks.

Tonight’s hotel is another one picked for me.

Good wifi, comfortable room, bloody annoying habit of switching the TV on after I’ve switched it off. Once was while I was out, the second time was a power cut on that circuit (took out the lights too, but not the plug sockets). So hopefully that’s not going to repeat, especially at e.g. 3am. It was at least off when I got back from dancing.