I covered our first visit to Singapore in 2019 in PC 168 Singapore. One of that postcard’s paragraphs is worth repeating here:

“Singapore is a small island (50 kms east to west, 27 kms north to south; about 720 sq kms) strategically situated between the Indian Ocean, the South China Sea and the Pacific, on the trading routes from China and Japan to Europe. Its unique position was appreciated by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles who in 1819 developed it as a trading port. In December 1941, during World War Two, Japan invaded Malaya at about the time it attacked Pearl Harbour. A few weeks later, in February 1942 it overran Singapore and some 90,000 troops became prisoners of war. It was subsequently reoccupied by British, Indian and Australian Forces following the Japanese surrender in 1945. In 1963 it gained independence from Britain as part of Malaysia and became an independent republic two years later. Its population is predominately Chinese, but Malays make up 15% and Indians 7% and there is a significant expat community amongst the 5.65 million people who live on this very crowded island.”

I first flew to Singapore in 1987 when I was working for Short Brothers, the Aerospace company based in Belfast in Northern Ireland. I was asked to accompany a colleague giving a presentation and he insisted we flew from London’s Heathrow on Cathy Pacific, whose home hub was Hong Kong, as he didn’t trust any pilot who wasn’t white!! A dinosaur you might think and, because of his racist views, we suffered a six-hour stopover in Hong Kong before flying down to Singapore. I never flew Cathy Pacific again. I clocked up over 250,000kms with Singapore Airlines in the next four years and reckon them to be one of the world’s best.

Thinking about the current trip before we left Hove, I was reminded of Frederick, a wooden Quail I saw in Tangs large department store on Orchard Road on one of my many times in the city.

The minute I saw him I thought I should buy him and take him home. But Frederick’s carved from some very dense wood and weighs a great deal; he’s about 50cm x 40cm x 40cm. The obvious question was how to get him home without spending an arm and a leg on extra baggage charges. After my meetings in Singapore I was flying to Sydney in Australia, returning to London via Singapore. Frederick was securely packed and taken to Changi Airport, where I popped him in Left Luggage before checking in for my Sydney flight. A few days later in Sydney I checked in for my return flight, ensuring my suitcase was ticketed all the way to London.

Frederick and his/her friend Eric

At Singapore I went out through Passport Control, collected Frederick from his locker and checked in for my Singapore – London flight. “Have you any baggage to check in Mr Yates?” “Yes, just this cardboard box.” I replied, looking down at Frederick on the weighing scales! In the photograph you’ll make out his little friend, Eric. He also came from Singapore on another visit but didn’t require any subterfuge!

Lee Kuan Yew

It’s rare for Singapore for make international news, but a news item the other day is worth mentioning. Singapore became independent from Britain in August 1965 and its first Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew, is widely recognised as being responsible for building this city state into the trade powerhouse it is today; the founding father of the country, if you like. He died in 2015; coincidentally his birthday was during our time in the city!

His two sons are quite different, Lee Hsein Loong entering politics and serving as Prime Minister and his younger brother Lee Hsein Yang spending almost twenty years in the military before entering the world of commerce. The news item concerns their father’s will’s direction that the family house on Oxley Road should be demolished, not wanting it to become a shrine. Older brother Loong wants it preserved, the younger Yang demolished, honouring his father’s wishes. It all turned rather nasty and the latter was granted asylum in the UK. Brothers huh?

The second time I flew long-haul to the Far East, on Singapore Airlines, I wore some casual slip-on work shoes but not lace-ups. Just before we landed I tried to put my feet into my shoes ……. the big toes made it but not much else! An outward sign of travelling in a pressurised tube. It was very undignified way to leave the airplane … a sort-of soft shoe shuffle.

Having stayed at The Marina Bay Sand hotel on our last visit, this time we opted, through our travel agent Pettitts Travel (pettitts.co.uk and part of Good Travel Management (Note 1)), for the Fullerton Hotel across the bay. Built in 1928 it became the General Post Office Building.

In the linking underground walkway are historic photographs of workers sorting the mail. At the end of the last century the whole area was redeveloped, with the hotel opening in 2001; it’s in a prime location. According to our taxi driver the construction of a fourth tower is underway at the Marina Bay Sands Hotel; there’s debate about whether it will be possible to link it to the other three.

The view in 2019 from the pool; the Fullerton Hotel is in the centre!

‘China Town’, an area a kilometre from the Fullerton Hotel, still houses traditional eateries, temples and shops. Look up and modern tower blocks scrape the sky.

Next week I’ll continue this postcard, but finish with a word of caution. If you take any prescription drugs, you need to check the rules; some require a written licence!

Richard 26^th September 2025

Auckland

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Half written in Singapore but then we flew to Perth and that week’s postcard, (PC 457) about low level health care, was in the mailbox.  …… hence the Auckland postmark!

Note 1 I was a consultant to the John Good Group for many years in my Leadership Coaching role. Pleased to return the favour!

Managed to get a couple of hours in the Hope Café this week, in between returning from Portugal and flying to Singapore on Sunday evening. I had promised to meet Lisa, as she is gathering information for a piece she’s writing about Low Level Health Care in the United Kingdom. We agreed to meet on Tuesday, before my haircut with Monika at Amor on Palmeira Square.

Tuesday afternoons in the Hope Café are never very busy and, despite a manic diary for this week, I found myself slightly early for Lisa. With an espresso in hand, went and sat at one of the tables, my mind running over our recent three weeks in Estoril (See PC 454 Portugal’s Estoril). One of the joys of being with Cecilia and Toni is that every now and again the conversation uncovers a gem of a story. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that Cecilia has lived in Boston and Washington as well as in Rio de Janeiro and Toni’s parents were Brazilian diplomats so lived a peripatetic life. I think it was Toni who happened to say he knew someone whose mother had accumulated a great deal of money through a number of failed marriages. Then Cecilia remembered a Brazilian named Lily Safra whose story is one of a colourful and intriguing life, worthy of writing just the highlights!

Lily Safra was born in 1934 in Porte Alegre in Brazil, grew up in Rio and moved with her family to Montevideo, Urugay. Aged 17 she married Mario Cohen with whom she had three children, before divorcing some ten years later. So far, so normal, you might think. In 1965 she married Alfredo Monteverde, a Romanian Jewish immigrant, who ran the Ponto Frio household appliance distribution business, only for him to commit suicide four years later. Her late husband’s banker, a chap called Edmond Safra, a Sephardic Jew, helped her secure control over her late husband’s entire fortune. A brief romance with Safra ended as his family disapproved of Lily’s Ashkenazi Jewish faith, so in 1972 she married a businessman called Samuel Bendahan, separating after two weeks and divorcing a year later.

Four years later, in 1976, she and Edmond Safra, who had founded the Republic National Bank of New York, married. The couple divided their time between homes in New York, Monaco, Geneva and the Villa Leopolda on the French Riveria. A day after the couple gained Monegasque citizenship, on 3 December 1999, Edmond died in a fire in his apartment. The fire was started by a former US Green Beret, Ted Maher, whose plan was to rescue Safra and be forever in his debt; it went out of control! Maher was sentenced to ten years in goal but sawed his way out of his prison window and escaped to France. There’s a film here, isn’t there? (See PS)

Edmond and Lily Safra

In my last Estoril PC (PC 454) I included the view from the bathroom window around 0200 one morning, the street brightly lit with the sodium streetlight.

Note the little grey gate to the left of the tree

The other morning around 0320 I needed a pee …. and noticed a chap outside the gates of the house almost opposite. He had arrived on a smart electric scooter, parked it on the pavement and was interrogating his mobile phone. I realised he was actually texting or talking to someone ….. at 0322! A minute or so later the pedestrian gate swung open and he disappeared up the driveway – leaving his scooter, lights on, outside. I imagined a number of scenarios; a male escort arriving to party was dismissed as he would have taken the scooter inside; no Pizza delivery or Uber Eats as he wasn’t carrying anything; … so I suspected he was your local drug delivery chap ….. just dial a number, order your Cocaine or ecstasy and in no time it arrives.

The same chap the following afternoon

My colourful thoughts were dashed when I saw him the following afternoon, again trying to interact with someone inside the house, but his efforts were rebuffed by a chap at the gate and he was shooed away. Romance has its ups and downs and I don’t now think he is a drug delivery man.

The family apartment is on the northern slopes of Estoril. Outside a house in the square near the casino, the Estoril motor racing circuit is laid out in black blocks on the white pavement.

The circuit itself is some 6 kilometres further inland and last week they were hosting the Porsche Cup Brazil.

Sound carries and it becomes a tedious background noise, unchanging except for the gears. I imagine the drivers taking their cars around the circuit know what they’re doing and how to handle the vehicles. Sadly, the majority of Portuguese drivers demonstrate some of the worst aspects of driving, possibly summed up by their brain saying: ‘I am entitled to do what I want.’ Woe betides a pedestrian who gets in their way. Those who can’t elevate their skills to going around the racing track take to the streets in the early hours, both the car and the driver screaming with delight. Not a view shared by the light sleepers.

Just as I was thinking Lisa wasn’t going to show, she rushes in in a bit of a lather ……..

“Hi! Richard. Gosh! I am so sorry I’m late. Got involved in a meeting with the editor of The Argus, discussing current assignments and what we might like to look at. You know I want to get any views you have on the current GP system here?”

“Yes, and in preparation I asked a couple of doctors I know …… and I will come on to that but, a couple of afterthoughts from Portugal …..”

(To be continued)

Richard 12^th September 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Lily died in 2022 from pancreatic cancer aged 87, with a net worth of some $1.3 billion.