Beachy Keen (Part 8)

On Sentosa Island lies some of the most significant beach property in Singapore. For a normal person (read: person of normal disposition and skin tone), going to the beach is an easy-going and stress-free activity. This cannot ever be true for me. Thanks to my ghostly pallor, every trip to the beach involves an inordinate amount of time covering every inch of exposed skin with SPF 85, then another large batch of time worrying whether I achieved coverage on every inch of exposed skin. Well, I would soon find out, wouldn’t I? Brett rounded up some of his buddies and we set out for Sentosa.



Sand on the beaches in Singapore isn’t like normal beach sand. It is so damn hot you will scorch your feet before you ever lay out your beach towel. You will sweat more drops just making it to your section of the beach than you will running five miles in Canada. The equator is far too near.





Oddly, the guys felt they wanted to throw around a football. Maybe even a frisbee. I couldn’t even move my leg without breaking into a sweat. My eyes stung. I clung to shade under a palm tree.







Sensing my enduring torture, the guys decided to pack it in early when it started to rain (I’m sorry! I can’t help myself), after a beer on the beach.



Arriving back at the apartment, we hit up the rooftop pool in the shade to cool off. It was here that I realized that my back was burnt to a crisp. *cries* I think I still have the imprint of my swimsuit permanently etched into my skin. For life.

In the evening we decided to head out for some traditional Singaporean cuisine. What exactly does that look like?








Chicken! A pyramid of rice!



I distinctly remember my back being on fire. Just another day in Singapore.

Tomorrow Brett is back to work and I really am determined to leave the house before lunch. I can do it! Yeah me!