I had heard about Curry Day about two weeks ago, when several friends on Facebook sent me invites to the Cook A Pot of Curry event. In those two weeks, I had thought about what tolerance, and being Singaporean, means to me, and decided: I wasn't going to cook curry.

I wasn't trying to be contrarian for the sake of it. Nor was I trying to make an anti-Curry Day statement. I just had three simple reasons.

The first is that I was uncomfortable with the origins of the event, which started as a response to an incident where a PRC family complained about the smell of curry every time their Singaporean Indian neighbour cooked curry. It eventually emerged that the incident happened seven years ago, but by then the curry controversy was already on the boil.

Like many Singaporeans, I was unhappy about the PRC family's alleged requests that the Indian family stopped cooking curry (that's like telling Chinese people not to eat rice). I was also unsure about the agreement that the two families voluntarily settled upon, which was that the Indian family only cooked curry when the PRC family was not at home, and the PRC family had to try curry at least once. In my opinion, that left the Indian family shortchanged, even though they had willingly agreed to it.

But, I was equally unhappy about the Cook a Pot of Curry event as a response. To me, its original event description carried more than a hint of xenophobic undertones, dressed up in nationalistic fervour.

One paragraph read thus: ""I hope that every Singapore Citizen/ or true blooded natives can COOK a pot of curry all over the island on this date (21st Aug 2011- Sunday) and let the aroma-therapy of CURRIES permeate the whole nation!! SHOW them we will not be coerced and DUN COME and bully our Indian Malay, Eurasian or Peranakan friends ! Roar!"

"True-blooded"? "Coerce"? "Bully"? Why the defensive language, and why draw a line between us and them?, I thought at that time. By then, more than 5,000 people had signed up for the event.

Then, last week, the event suddenly shifted in its tone. Suddenly, it became "Cook and Share a Pot of Curry" Day. The defensive rhetoric was scrubbed from the event description, and replaced with soothing pleas to include foreigners in the event. Anti-foreigner posts on the event page were also deleted.

I was glad to see that, but still had my misgivings given the original intent of the event.

Nominated Member of Parliament Mr Viswa Sadasivan wrote to The Straits Times Forum page recently, pointing out that the event was not about xenophobia, but rather was directed at intolerance. The organisers have also been quoted in news reports that the event was not meant to drum up anti-foreigner sentiment.

If that was so, then why did it take an intolerant stand at first by wanting to annoy foreigners with curry smells? Whether that stand was intentional or not, I found it pretty ironic that in trying to get foreigners to fit in, the event wanted to literally rub their noses into it.

The second reason why I wanted to cook beef stew was simpler. I'm proud to be a Singaporean, and I have many foreign friends who care as much about Singapore as I do. I'm for encouraging tolerance too, done in a gracious way.

But why do I need to take part in an event to prove it? In fact, why do I need to prove it at all, when I know these things in my heart?

The third reason was the simplest.

I just felt like having beef stew on Sunday. So I cooked it. And I found it just as delicious as curry.

It also happens to be one of the biggest private yachts to have visited our shores to date.

I was interviewing owner Guido Krass for Friday's story on yachting tourists. And if what I saw is a sign of things to come, Singapore will have to ready herself for a bigger influx of some very rich people.

First stop: the helipad. Yes, that's right: the four-level 65 million euro (S$115 million) boat is so big, it can accommodate a twin-engine helicopter.

Guido Krass showing his helipad, on Silver Zwei.
ST PHOTO: Desmond Wee

Jokingly, I asked where the helicopter was stored — underneath? A serious-looking staff member replied: "Oh no. That's where the two jetskis and three boats are."

O-kay.

Moving on, we went to the aft of the boat which can be turned to a lounge deck.

The back of the boat opens up to create a sitting area, where guests can relax close to the water and jump into the sea for a quick refreshing dip. There's even inbuilt showers into the deck roof, and further back is the private gym and sauna.

The back of the Silver Zwei. The silver circles on the roof are the shower heads. ST PHOTO: Desmond Wee

Elsewhere on the boat's other outdoor levels, there is the jacuzzi, dining area, fully-stocked bar, and Mr Krass' "party deck": a lounge area which can be transformed into a dance floor complete with misters and disco lights.

We head inside for some cool respite from the afternoon's heat. Spread out over two levels are eight spacious guestrooms, which can accommodate up to 18 passengers. All are decorated in cream, orange and aquamarine tones.

There are little discreet hints of luxury here and there. Port holes are covered by custom-made Hermes lids, and the toiletries are stamped with the Molton Brown logo. The bathrooms gleam with Italian marble.

A guest bedroom on the Silver Zwei. ST PHOTO: Desmond Wee

The biggest room of course is Mr Krass' bedroom. Large and airy, it features a reading corner with an elegantly curved glass roof, where Mr Krass reads his newspapers (which his staff print out every morning) as he lies on a soft-as-butter leather daybed.

Beside him, a huge television with 500 movies stored in the boat's entertainment system rises slowly from the polished wooden floor at the touch of a button.

Master bedroom on the Silver Zwei, with leather lounger.
ST PHOTO: Desmond Wee

Scurrying around us as we tour the boat is a team of about 15 impossibly good-looking and tanned staff. Most hail from New Zealand and Australia, and their ages range from 18 to 33.

Being a crew member of a private mega-yacht may be one of the most enviable jobs in the service or hospitality industries.

Staff get to see some of the most glamorous locations around the world, while getting free accommodation and free gourmet meals. They get paid well too: Mr Krass' staff salaries range from 3,500 euros to 10,000 euros per month.

Despite its no-expense-spared features, there is a point to building this boat.

Silver Zwei was built to be a "green" yacht, featuring a fuel efficiency of 400 litres/h for an average speed of 18-19 knots — better than many smaller boats.

It is also made of aluminium honeycomb — with less weight, it can travel faster. It took 25 engineers over four years to construct it at Mr Krass' shipyard Hanseatic Marine.

Mr Krass, chairman of the Pari Group which owns green technology and renewables businesses, is trying to show that luxury yachting need not mean inefficient, lumbering, massive boats.

"I'm doing this to build up the brand, to show we have reliable operations and the technology to make yachts better," said Mr Krass.

In that sense, his boat is a literal floating advertisement for his business. So far, it's worked.

Silver Zwei is the second such boat he has made. "Zwei" means "two" in German. The first has already been snapped up — by the royal family of Abu Dhabi, no less.

His shipyard is working at full steam, building an even larger 311ft yacht. Millionaires, it seems, want bigger and better boats these days. And with more of them sailing here, then a boat like Silver Zwei will soon be just a drop in the ocean.

Read also: Ahoy, yachting tourists

I'm talking, of course, about the imminent demise of TV Mobile, that scourge of peace-loving bus passengers all over the island.

Earlier this week, Mediacorp announced that it is discontinuing the free-to-air mobile TV service that is mostly available on SBS Transit buses, essentially because it can't afford its "substantial costs" anymore.

Cue sighs of relief all over the Twitterverse, blogosphere and Facebook, as people rapidly spread the news online.

"Maybe now I won't go deaf from having my earphones play music at top volume just to drown out TV mobile!" said one friend.

Since 2001, long-suffering Singaporeans have had to endure a goggle box on almost every bus we took.

The motive of installing these infernal machines, we were told, was to provide a more entertaining journey, but we all knew that it was just to bombard us with advertising.

Peaceful bus journeys became a thing of the past. No longer could you take a nap, or quietly appreciate the scenery outside your window.

Instead, we were slowly sucked into a vortex of crappy Chinese variety shows and Just for Laugh gags from the 1990s.

Complaints - and there have been many over the years - have ranged from its loud volume to bad reception. Old uncles and aunties clutch their hearts every time the sound system emits an ear-piercing glitchy shriek.

The programming is equally suspect. I never understood why they keep playing reruns of Channel 8 serials - what about passengers who can't understand Chinese? True, they come with English subtitles but because the screen is so small, the words can be read only if you have hawk-eyed vision.

And what is the point of watching TV on a bus anyway, when these days commuters have their iPods, Nintendo DS, books and newspapers to keep them company?

So my fellow commuters, rejoice. Rejoice at our freedom from tyranny. Thank the recession gods for plucking out that thorn in our sides.

You'll have your low-cost casualwear stores - maybe a Giordano, Bossini or Hang Ten - mixed in with mid-range brands like Topshop or Bysi.

You'll spy the usual SK Jewellery or City Chain watch outlet, and maybe a World of Sports, Times bookstore or Sembawang Music Centre.

If you're tired of seeing the same brands and products everywhere, you're not the only one.

Even the government has noticed it. Minister of State for Trade, Industry and Manpower Mr Lee Yi Shyan on Tuesday called for retailers to diversify and target more niche markets instead of catering broadly to shoppers.

One reason is that retailers here aren't being adventurous enough.

Ms Lau Chuen Wei, executive director of the Singapore Retailers Association, said that the scene could do with more entrepreneurs who refuse to head down well-trodden routes.

"There's a lot of follow-the-leader, so things tend to be same-old, same-old," she told me.

But it takes two hands to clap, and mall landlords who like to play it safe have to share some blame for this state of affairs.

Well-established chains with mass-market appeal are always a good bet when it comes to attracting shoppers to a mall.

Also, there is the assumption that such chains tend to have deeper pockets, so if the business climate turns, they are more likely to be able to cough up the rent and survive than a smaller business.

What this means is that the little guys tend to lose out. One industry player complained that because of this bias, big brands have more bargaining power when negotiating their rent.

Of course, there have been malls that strive for diversity. Newcomers like Ion Orchard and Iluma, for example, are notable for featuring many new brands.

There are themed malls too, like Velocity (sports) and Square 2 (Korean) in Novena, and Century Square (women) in Tampines.

Beyond malls, the Arab Street area has an interesting mix of independent boutiques and carpet and fabric stores, while around Club Street you can find quirky bookstores and niche designers.

But these are the exceptions, rather than the rule. It's no wonder Singaporeans regularly skip over to Bangkok or Hong Kong to browse their more varied racks.

So while retailers should innovate, landlords can help, by giving smaller businesses more of a chance too.

It would go a long way towards saving shoppers from monotony.

Read more: Go for niche segment

You can't miss the reason for this smog: everywhere you turn, there are huge yellow banners with the fetchingly retro logo of Ramly Burger.

Ramly burgers, for the uninitiated, are Malaysia's answer to McDonald's. The only differences are that they're not sold in sterile outlets, but by itinerant roadside hawkers, and since they're slathered in butter while being fried, they're probably way more calorific than a Big Mac (hello, heartburn!).

The presentation is also unique: After being cooked, the Ramly patty is smothered in chilli, mayo and other sauces before being wrapped up in an omelette and slid between a sesame bun.

Greasy, juicy and an altogether guilty treat, they've become revered enough to inspire homages, like this catchy Ramly Burger song.

But the burger that gets served up to customers here isn't quite authentic.

Not the real McCoy, but still tasty to many.
ST Photo: Terence Tan

Ramly chicken and beef patties have been banned in Singapore for many years. Only the brand's fish patties are allowed in, as are its fish nuggets, prawn patties and mayonnaise .

The burger patties that the stallholders are flipping here are actually ordinary ones made by Singapore manufacturers, lacking Ramly's special mix of spices.

When I asked some Geylang Serai stallholders why they still advertised their burgers as Ramly burgers, given that the essential ingredient is not a Ramly product, most avoided giving me a direct answer.

After some hemming and hawing, one claimed that they still count as a Ramly burgers because they use other Ramly ingredients and the wrapper. Another claimed they pay to use the logo.

They have good reason to latch on to the brand. "Ramly's famous here, people recognise it," one stallholder said.

So does this mean they're guilty of false advertising? After all, if you're paying for a Ramly burger, then you should get a burger with an authentic Ramly patty, right?

I posed this question to a Malaysian colleague. He disagreed. "Ramly is a style," came his rather zen-like reply.

To him, the meat of the matter isn't actually the patty, but how it's made, with the folded omelette and sauces.

But surely it makes a difference, I pondered.

I've had an authentic Ramly burger only once - eight years ago, at that - so I roped in another Malaysian colleague to do a taste-test, figuring her childhood years of chomping on the lipsmacking treat should count for something.

She thoughtfully chewed on the Singaporean Ramly burger that I bought for her. "It's less tasty and fragrant than I remember," she mused.

The first Malaysian colleague felt also that the Singaporean Ramly has too many accoutrements. "It's completely doused in sauce. They don't let the patty speak for itself; it's surrounded by a horde of tomato, mayo, egg PRs and bodyguards," he said.

That, I felt, was the deal-breaker. I've decided to hold out until my next trip to Malaysia before I savour a Ramly burger again.

After all, an imposter Ramly burger is just not worth all those calories.

Read more: Safer food at night markets

They are a group of Singaporeans and Singapore residents representing the country in the Clipper Race, a round-the-world sailing competition.

From L to R: Uniquely Singapore skipper Jim Dobie with crew members Tan Pek Yew, Lisa Walden, Karan Teo, Nicole Ho and Bart Kregersman.
PHOTO: Keppel

Like them, I got to celebrate on a boat too, albeit much closer to home.

After four long days at sea, my sailing class received a treat on Sunday – we got to watch the parade fireworks just outside Marina Bay.

Off we went that evening to the Barrage. As Apache helicopters droned overhead, we nosed our way into the herd of party boats floating a good two miles from the platform. It was the closest anyone could get without being shooed off by the coast guard.

Dusk fell. The city skyline glittered. With no television onboard for us to catch the show, we dished out dinner instead and chit-chatted, even engaging in a brief nautical battle with other boats using homemade water-bombs.

Finally, the first sparks of fireworks flowered in the sky.

We cracked open our Heinekens and cranked up Smashing Pumpkins on the stereo. As Billy Corgan wailed "Tonight/ tonight's so bright", the night sky bloomed a brilliant red and gold in the distance.

Watching fireworks. Getting a clear shot wasn't easy with a rocking boat.
PHOTO: Tessa Wong

Three minutes later, it was all over. "Back to work, guys," said our instructor Lynette.

Night sailing is a whole different kettle of fish. The rising wind allows for good progress, but also dries out your eyes as you squint into the inky darkness, trying to make out the various warning lights.

Your mind has to concentrate on not only guiding the boat at the right point of sail, but also figuring out what those winking dots on the ocean mean.

Red, green, red – that means I should head to port right? Or is it starboard? And is that dark shape looming ahead just a lightless patch of sea, or am I about to crash into a ship?

It was befuddling, and slightly nervewracking, for this first-time sailor.

But despite my growing fatigue, I appreciated the rare chance to see Singapore in a different light.

Nightfall reveals a mysterious glittering city floating beyond Marina Bay. Cloaked in darkness, the solid tankers and dreary oil refineries are defined only by their bobbing and winking beacons.

What did I see? I saw an unearthly Martian citadel as we glided by Pulau Bukom, its refinery towers a glowing morass of red minarets.

I saw St John's Island as a dusky hump in the ocean, its surprisingly womanly curves punctuated at the top by the pure whiteness of a warning light.

It was close to midnight, and I was getting as grumpy and tired as an old sea captain. But surrounded by these otherworldly sights, I couldn't help but feel lucky to be sailing in Singapore.

Tessa Wong's competent crew course was sponsored by Keppel. This is the last instalment, read the first part here.

It'll be Singapore's third time taking part in the race, which will see stopovers in eight countries. But for us it's not just a race but also a kind of promotional tour: along the way, folks from our tourism board will spread the word about our island's charms. Even the boat is branded the Uniquely Singapore.

At various points it will be staffed by a rotating crew of 12 Singaporeans and Singapore residents, plus some others from around the world to make up the numbers. All are amateurs.

Unlike other round-the-world competitions Clipper Race contestants are all non-professionals, who each fork out thousands of dollars to plunge into the world of sailing.

Which is why, as you read this, I'm currently sunburnt, windchafed, and floating somewhere around Batam.

I'm here to get a taste of what an ordinary Clipper Race participant has been learning. Admittedly, Singapore's sunny weather is very different from the much harsher conditions that they'll be facing, but you've got to start somewhere, right?

My vessel of choice: the Venture, one of two 40 ft keelboats that the Keppel Bay Sailing Academy uses to conduct its courses.

We set sail on Thursday from the Marina at Keppel Bay. My classmates on this beginner crew course are a motley (but jovial) crew of an American, a German, a Frenchman and a fellow Singaporean.

The crew and our instructor, Lynette, onboard the Venture.
PHOTO: Tessa Wong

Our instructor, Lynette, starts things off by showing us the ropes – literally. We learn what the myriad of ropes are used for onboard, the different parts of the boat, how the sails work, and various protocols.

Then we try our hand at sailing – but the wind is slow, and we putter at 2 knots for most of the afternoon. We slowly get burnt by the merciless sun; despite slathering on sunscreen, I feel as fried and crispy as a Takashimaya food hall snack.

Our hopes of getting a strong wind, and some action, are fulfilled soon enough. The next day sees us scrambling around like headless chickens as Lynette yells out orders over the howling strong wind.

As we head for Indonesian waters, a rainstorm homes in on us. While we are pelted by fat raindrops and the boat is buffetted around by stomach-churning swells, I wonder why exactly anyone would sign up for something like this.

But it gradually becomes clear to me, despite the pouring rain.

Like all outdoor activities, sailing feels very much a primal sport which, when pitching man against the natural elements, imparts a contradictory sense of both insignificance and power.

You may just be a tiny speck bobbing on the ocean, but you're miraculously harnessing weather and water to reach your destination.

Searching for the perfect curve; a view of the main sail of the Venture.
PHOTO: Tessa Wong

It is also a sport that's curiously driven by the physics of aesthetics.

When it comes to harnessing the wind, a perfect curve is everything: the right sail shape at the right angle to the wind is essential for maximising power. One little crease in the sail makes our instructor wrinkle her nose like an offended art-lover. Somehow I find this balance of science, art and sport oddly appealing.

And there's another unlikely thing that I love: its sounds. The snapping of the sail, the fantastic whoosh as it unfurls itself from hidden crumpledness, the rattling of ropes, the splatter of waves as the boat noses its way home – it's a musical language of its own, singing a centuries-old tune of voyage and adventure.

Put them all together with the excitement that comes with unpredictable weather, and I see why someone may want to do this round the world for nearly a year.

Well, nearly. I'm keeping my rain-wrinkled fingers crossed for better weather tomorrow.

Tessa Wong's trip is sponsored by Keppel. Watch out for the second instalment next week.

You invite the Merlion over for tea, at hubby's behest — and watch as he changes his mind after getting copiously drenched by the statue's spray.

So goes the quirky advertisement for the Japanese airline ANA, which has been getting lots of praise by local netizens of late.

Since being discovered a few months ago, the advertisement has gone viral on blogs, Facebook and Twitter, with many commenting on its wit.

Some have also been wondering why Singapore couldn't produce something equally stylish and memorable.

A friend posted the video on his blog with the succinct comment: "Everything the STB's Uniquely Singapore ad campaign should have been."

After a quick search on Youtube for recent Singapore Tourism Board adverts, I couldn't help but agree with that remark.

The clips I've unearthed so far tend to show Singapore as a wondrous exotic melting pot of the East. Cue pan-Asian flutey-tabla music, shots of bustling Little India stalls and closeups of Chinese opera singers.

Fair enough, but isn't that a little too similar to Malaysia's "Truly Asia" multicultural sales pitch?

Plus, the marketing of Singapura Exotica is not only getting a bit old, but also smacks of a colonial hangover.

There have also been a few commercials that attempt to be stylish: all I can say is, close but no cigar.

There's the slightly schizophrenic one replete with the jump cuts and out-of-focus shots favoured by the generation brought up on MTV. Yes, it's so hip it hurts — to watch.

Then there's the one with the teh tarik visual pun — cleverer and more watchable, but hardly pushing the envelope.

Nope, my favourite Singaporean tourism advertisement so far is still the ANA clip. It wins with its brevity, punchy edginess, and memorability. I hope the tourism board will learn a thing or two from it.

After all, isn't it ironic that another country does a better job of selling Singapore?

Timeshare, for the uninitiated, is a scheme where you fork over money for the right to stay in holiday homes or hotels all over the world at discounted rates. Usually it requires a sizeable upfront investment, followed by maintenance fees.

There are legitimate companies which operate such schemes, but there have been others making the news for the wrong reasons.

Consumers have complained about companies such as Leisure Group Marketing, Emperor's Resort International, and Global Europ (note: no website), alleging pressure tactics and false claims.

Timeshare has been a veritable thorn in the side of consumers for a long time. It has been the most complained-about industry for the past decade, and the Consumers Association of Singapore (Case) usually receives over 2,000 complaints about it every year.

There have been recent moves to stem bad practices, with amendments to the Consumer Protection Fair Trading Act (CPFTA) taking effect last month. To counter pressure selling, the cooling-off period has been extended from three days to five, so buyers now have more time to reconsider their investment.

There is also now a 60-day refund period for contracts cancelled during this cooling-off period.

But clearly, this isn't enough. Some companies can be shut down, but they can pop up again months later under a new name, according to Mr Seah Seng Choon, Case's executive director.

And as seen in the Maxmega case, where customers of other timeshare companies were called by Maxmega employees, there is a possibility that they share or transfer client databases as well.

So what's to be done?

Some readers have said that Case needs to be more proactive at catching these companies. But as a non-government, non-profit organisation that has limited legal power, its hands are tied somewhat. The very furthest it can go is to take out an injunction against a company if they find it has breached any part of the CPFTA.

So the ability to stamp out this problem really lies with lawmakers. There needs to be proper legislation to make it more difficult for companies to get away with unfair practices.

Mr Seah told me that Case has been pushing for a new Timeshare Act since last year, and the officials at the Ministry of Trade and Industry are still considering the viability of this plan.

I can understand the need for cautious deliberation, but I hope for consumers' sakes that they crack the whip on this.

Despite frequent media reports on timeshare complaints, the number of complaints has only dropped by about 16 per cent in the last four years, from 2,724 complaints in 2004 to 2,280 last year.

That's just not good enough. At this rate, we'd have to wait another 20 years before complaints even halve!

Not only do legislators need to act quicker, more stringent rules have to be imposed.

For starters, how about barring directors of timeshare companies which have previously received injunctions for unfair practices from setting up new timeshare companies?

Or how about ruling that every timeshare company must get a yearly Case audit of their practices? If they fail, they cannot continue operating until they can prove they are trustworthy.

Some things on the audit's checklist could include: being transparent to customers on their company assets and membership size, not engaging in pressure selling, and giving reasonable termination clauses in contracts.

To be sure, consumers need to do their part as well and do relevant checkups on companies before they sign on the dotted line. One simple way is to check with Case whether there has been a significant number of complaints lodged against a company before signing up with them.

But if we really want to get serious on timeshare, it boils down to the law of the land. And that law needs to get tough — fast.

I was referring, of course, to Time magazine's recent recommendation of Geylang as a tourist destination.

The news weekly hailed it as "an atmospheric quarter on Singapore's east coast that bristles with great period architecture, leggy street walkers and some of the best local food on the island".

Dr Lee, who is the Member of Parliament for Jalan Besar GRC which oversees Geylang, was diplomatic in his reply.

He noted that it was reminiscent of how Bugis Street was once a tourist hotspot for the same reasons, then added: "While Geylang is a part of the mix of attractions for tourists, hopefully we can see more wholesome and culturally edifying attractions that will bring more tourists to Singapore."

My take on it?

When I first heard of the recommendation, I was amused - and approving.

Geylang, after all, is known for more than its seedy nightlife. With its plethora of foodie haunts, fruit stalls, karaoke lounges, bargain stores, coupled with chaotic traffic and a mix of immigrants from all over Asia, it's a vibrant and bustling place, great for people-watching.

On these merits, Geylang is indeed an intriguing place to check out if you're a visitor. It's definitely a grittier side of Singapore that you hardly see elsewhere on our island, full of life and colour.

But a quick re-read of the article made me have second thoughts. Touting "leggy streetwalkers" as a tourist attraction? Sorry, but that's just wrong.

It's just like "poverty porn", a term bandied around by the media recently over Danny Boyle's film on Indian slum life, Slumdog Millionaire.

Much fuss was made about how wrong it is to be entertained by watching other people's misery and degradation.

Similarly, watching the hookers stalk up and down the lorongs or hang around their brothels just smacks of such Schadenfreude.

Anyone who goes there to check out the sleaze shouldn't feel virtuous just because they're doing it on a "see, no touch" basis. You're not watching some exotic safari; you're watching someone's mother, daughter or sister doing a job she most likely hates.

Some may be doing it willingly, others may be coerced. All would most probably choose a different life for themselves if they had the opportunity.

So if you're heading to Geylang anytime soon for supper or late-night drinking, by all means have a whale of a time.

But think twice about staring goggle-eyed at those hookers. The sights may be seedy, but this ain't a circus, folks.

Read more about the Geylang area from Tessa Wong: Geylang back alley lit up.