Sanctuaries

Holy dancing queens.

On our second day in Singapore, the itinerary dictated a half-day city tour in the morning. Having been there many times before, I was tempted to skip it in lieu of staying in bed - but good thing I didn't, otherwise I'd have missed the once-in-a-lifetime chance to grab Gwen Stefani's waist.

Anyhow, after our fortuitous run-in with Stefani in Little India, it was off to Chinatown. As you know, Singapore is made up of three main ethnicities: Chinese, Malay, and Indian. Since there is a Chinatown anywhere in the world, I would've wanted to visit the Malay quarters instead, but itineraries are itineraries.

I wasn't in a shopping mood, so I spent my time just looking around and taking these pictures:

Holy man?

 

 Holy light.

Holy smokes!

While the rest of my group worshipped at the bustling bazaars, I was drawn in by the quiet serenity of a nearby Chinese temple. I  lit a joss stick, dropped a token contribution, and offered a silent prayer. Had we known about the gathering tempest in Manila at that time, I would've said a prayer for everyone else. But we wouldn't hear of it until that night, and so my prayer was personal, and private.

Holy house.

A short distance away, I stopped at the doors of a Hindu temple, where a marriage was quietly taking place.

 

Holy matrimony.

Temples are peaceful and calm. Oases for the tempests life brings. Sanctuaries for our souls.

Holy cow!