I’ve just arrived back in Singapore. You could say I should have a great feeling of relief at being back in civilisation after a week in what is a third-world country. That feeling should have been overwhelmingly strong as it took me around two hours to reach the boarding gate at Noi Bai International in Hanoi and enter Singapore in a breeze (after filling out the SG Arrival card, entry into the country is happily automated) in comparison to what I had been through on the Vietnamese side.
There were wonderful signs of being “home.” The most obvious was the water fountains at the airport. I no longer depended on bottled water to quench my thirst; everything was a language I could communicate in.
However, I didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of joy to be back home. I felt overwhelming despair and had to fight back the desire to start sobbing on the spot. You see, the reason is simple, I had gone from a cranky airport in what is still a communist country with a sense of dynamism to a glamorous façade that seems to be hiding something that is not quite right.
Let’s make no mistake here. There is no comparison between Noi Bai International and Changi Airport facilities. Nobody goes to Noi Bai for anything other than to get into and off planes. Changi, on the other hand, is a destination in its own right.
However, the difference is quite startling if you look at things through the lens of the food scene. I found the only two Burger King outlets between Hai Phong and Hanoi inside Noi Bai International. As mentioned in a previous posting, Burger King and its cousin, MacDonald’s, couldn’t conquer the Vietnamese market. People were attached to their Pho and Ban Mi served along the roadside. It came faster, tastier and healthier than the international chains could provide. Seeing the world’s second-largest joint stuck at the airport gives you a sense of satisfaction from watching a bully get humiliated by a guy half his size.
While Noi Bai did not provide me with a great experience (it’s not the place you want to walk around), it fits nicely into what I see as a narrative of a place with some hope. Sure, things are not always smooth or pretty, but people are finding a way of going about things.
Changi was sadly different. It’s a beautiful-looking place, but unfortunately, it seems like a beautiful shell hiding a sick interior.
The first thing that you notice is that the cleaners are inevitably old. I guess it didn’t affect me during the years of the pandemic, but then, when you step out of Singapore, and back again, you notice it. Then, you ask yourself if that’s your fate. I mean, we have a spanking new, state-of-the-art airport, which is the envy of the world and yet the people doing the hard work to keep this wonderful place ticking over are the people who should be enjoying what it offers.
I do get that some old people like to keep working because it helps keep them active, and the pennies they earn help them out in old age. At 48, I’ve encountered my fair share of ageism and point out that those over 45 are employable too. However, when every cleaner you run into happens to be over 65, it’s got to signal to you that something is very wrong here. You have to ask – who exactly are we building these great facilities for?
Then, I wanted to get a meal, so I thought I would stop by the food court in Terminal 4, which for the record, is the newest and swankiest part of the world’s best airport. When I left for Vietnam a week ago, this was the sight I was treated to – everything down to the toilet was magnificent.
However, coming back was a different story. The food court only had a few stalls. Many looked like they had been abandoned for some time:
Even branded stalls like Old Street Ba Ku Te and Paris Baguette looked like they had been closed for a while, and nobody was doing anything about it.
Now, if there’s a business that is always healthy in Singapore, it’s the food stalls, and the only time you see the food stalls closing is either when the place they’re in is a toxic dump where there are hazard signs blocking people from entering.
However, we’re not talking about a toxic dump. We’re talking about the world’s best airport, and we make so much noise about how “food”, embodied by our food stalls, is an existential part of who we are. It’s what we want to show to the world in the place where the world gathers. It makes no sense that food stalls are being shut in this place.
The airport will always have a business. There are always people in the airport. If rents are high, it’s because this is a “hot” location. It’s the type of place where you’d expect lots of people fighting to take the slots there.
When you see these empty stalls in the airport food court, you can’t help but feel something is wrong. It’s like being in a shiny shell that sticks on the inside, and what a feeling that makes you want to sob on end due to the despair of what you’ve walked into. That’s not what you should feel when you step into what has consistently been the world’s best airport in the world’s shiniest nation.
A version of this article first appeared at beautifullyincoherent.blogspot.com