Prostitution, Gambling, and Bad Karaoke: The Real Singapore

by Tania LaCaria

Singapore was every bit as perfect as I had imagined.  Before my visit to the city-state, I did some research on the country’s excessive laws (like making chewing gum, not flushing public toilets, and homosexuality - all illegal acts). I was sure that having so many (absurd) regulations would create a somewhat oppressed community, but the fancy architecture, abundance of green space, thriving economy, and the friendly locals challenged my hypothesis.

I had accepted that Singaporeans saw the value of having so many laws, and I respected their way of life. I had actually come to admire it – a city with so many laws did seem to make for a safer and happier place to live.

That is, until I had the chance to spend two hours with a young, sweaty, Singaporean man who was eager to learn more about my hometown of Toronto in exchange for a glimpse of the “Real Singapore” (as he called it).

I met this young man while waiting to cross an intersection at night. Despite the lack of traffic, no one crossed. As long as the street light was casting its fire-engine-red glow on the perfectly paved asphalt, everyone stood still - jay walking is illegal in Singapore, and punishable by very high fines.

“You won’t even believe you are in Singapore anymore,” the young man promised us, “the Real Singapore is scary.”

Usually, this type of sales pitch would solicit a unanimous “NO” from both my fiancé and myself – we’re not keen on traveling to dangerous parts of town – but from what we had seen of Singapore, even the so-called skuzzy Chinatown district was pristine. How bad can it be? we shrugged to one another, succumbing to our curiosity.

We followed the young man on foot. We walked for blocks, at least several kilometers, to a district called Geylang.  After an hour and a half of walking, we had crossed a bridge that doubled as a major highway and suddenly, everything looked different. 

The majestic and modern architectural landscape of downtown Singapore was replaced with unattractive form-follows-function low-rise buildings. The twinkly string of holiday lights that decorated the palms on the popular Orchard Street (Singapore’s very own Champs-Élysées) were replaced by flashing neon “open” signs. We had arrived in the “Real Singapore”, and it looked every bit as unusual as the young man had promised.

In Geylang, you can purchase beer and liquor from behind the counters of convenience stores (the way you purchase prescription drugs at a pharmacy). You can go to karaoke bars that are bursting at the seams with prostitutes and take your pick from a lineup of beautiful ladies-of-the-night without the looming judgment of bystanders – a very different kind of nightlife than in the central downtown.

The young man pointed out all the secret shops that sell pornography, which were disguised as seemingly innocent fruit stands. He told us he could direct us to where the top drug runners live and work, where to buy illegal tobacco, which brothels have the best women (and transvestites), and which underground casinos the crooked cops love the most.

It took me a while to take in what I was seeing in the “Real Singapore”. Laughter and loud music exploded from the swinging saloon-style doors of cheap restaurants and shady bars like contents that were under pressure.  The taboo nature of every single establishment made me feel anxious, and just as I was trying to gauge the safety level of seedy Geylang, we passed a bar full of prostitutes and police men singing a bad karaoke version of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”.

In a city where pick-pocketing and homosexual acts are punishable by death, I could hardly believe my eyes – I had crossed into an unstable district in one of the safest cities in the world, and yet it appeared as though the locals (and police) had mistaken dumpy Geylang for Utopia.

The charmed impressions I had of Singapore as a pristine and happy city were shattered. It turns out that Singapore is a lot like any other city – you just have to look a little bit harder to see its true (shady) colours.

Photo provided by the author.