work, eat, shop, escape: 3 weeks in singapore
Over the past month, I spent about three weeks in Singapore. I came out here for work — partnering with some of the largest companies in the region to help them integrate AI into their infrastructure. But beyond the professional experience, I want to share what I learned about the culture here — and how it felt, as an outsider, to live in this city-state for a stretch.
When I first arrived, I was captivated. After more than a decade of dreaming about living in Southeast Asia, I was finally here — and with a legitimate excuse: work. It was a chance to immerse myself in a region I'd long been drawn to, to explore what life might actually look like in this part of the world. Or at least what life could look like in Singapore.
I had the fantasy of opening up our company's first APAC office. To get to know the region, build relationships, position myself as the person to lead our work in Asia — before anyone else even had it on their radar. I still have that interest, but it's taken on a more sober tone. The glamorization has faded a bit. I'm no longer as drawn to Singapore just to live in Singapore. Because what I've come to understand about the culture here makes me question whether it aligns with my values.
a hub built for movement
Singapore is, without a doubt, a marvel in many ways. As a centrally located, ultra-modern hub with world-class amenities, it's the perfect launchpad for exploring Southeast Asia: Bali, Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Ho Chi Minh City, Da Nang, Kuala Lumpur, the Thai islands, Penang — all just a short flight away. If I lived here full-time, I could easily see myself hopping on a plane every weekend.
But that, in itself, is telling. The desire to escape isn't a great sign.
a culture of work, food, and consumption
It's hard to ignore the rhythm of life here. From what I observed — and what local friends confirmed — the Singaporean lifestyle largely centers around three things:
- Work
- Eating
- Shopping
And to do more of that cycle, you need money. It's an expensive city, and the path of least resistance seems to be: work more, spend more. Repeat.
There's a kind of hyper-consumerism here that, oddly enough, feels more intense than even in major U.S. cities. Malls are everywhere. And while the food scene is absolutely incredible — hawker stalls, food courts, pan-Asian restaurants of every imaginable type — I kept wondering: is this it? Is this the cultural center?
To be fair, I'm not Singaporean. I don't have the authority to make sweeping claims. But I spent time with locals. I asked questions. And I kept hearing the same thing: this is the culture. Work hard, eat well, shop hard.
the bikeride that said it all
One of the moments that brought all of this into focus was my final night in Singapore. I went on a bike ride with a couple of friends — from Tanjong Pagar to Sentosa, a trendy island enclave with beach clubs, upscale restaurants, and tourist attractions.
I had this vision of coasting along the water, a peaceful sunset ride over the bridge, soaking in tropical beauty.
Instead, I got a crash course in urban design failure.
Every few minutes, we had to dismount to walk the bikes — blocked paths, awkward turns, metal barriers, sudden dead ends. Bike lanes were more suggestion than infrastructure, crammed onto pedestrian sidewalks and filled with physical obstacles. Streets felt dangerous to ride with fast-moving traffic. It was exhausting, not peaceful.
Even on Sentosa, we rode behind the beach clubs that blocked the water views entirely.
That experience made me appreciate Santa Monica, California — where I grew up — in a new way. Miles of dedicated bike paths along the beach, designed for joy, for leisure, for human movement.
In contrast, Singapore's infrastructure seemed like it was built for one thing: productivity.
a city that reflects its values
The more I observed, the more this thread showed up everywhere.
Cars here are prohibitively expensive — two to four times the cost of the same model in the U.S. — due to import taxes and licensing fees. And yet, owning a car is one of the few ways to enjoy the city freely. It's both a status symbol and a survival mechanism in a place not built for walking or biking.
Even the beaches reflect the ethos. While they're beautiful at first glance, the water is filled with industrial ships. Singapore's prosperity comes from its status as a global port — and you can see it clearly from both the shore and the sky. On my flight out, I looked down and saw dozens upon dozens of container ships dotting the coast.
It's hard to find an unobstructed view of open ocean. Hard to swim. Hard to escape the sense of constant movement.
a culture on repeat
The feeling I kept returning to was this: Singapore is incredibly efficient, incredibly clean, incredibly modern — and yet, oddly sterile.
If you're not working, eating, or shopping, what are you doing?
There are exceptions, of course. But structurally, the city makes it difficult to explore in organic ways. It's often too hot to be outside for long, and many areas aren't built for strolling or biking. The natural world feels held at arm's length.
Without that — without parks, casual street life, or spontaneous community gathering spaces — the city feels like it's built for doing, not being.
And that has a cost.
I didn't sense the philosophical curiosity of Paris. The emphasis on beauty and family you feel in Italy. The integration with nature you find in Switzerland. Or even the high-art ambition of New York and the disruption culture of San Francisco.
Instead, I felt something like: Work. Eat. Shop. Escape. Repeat.
still, there were glimpses
And yet — there were moments of connection, joy, even magic.
A friend took me out to try my first Laksa, then sent me a list of her late father's favorite food spots across the city. I turned that into a little scavenger hunt, eating my way through his memories. That made the food more than consumptive. It made it cultural. Personal. Beautiful.
And yes, the food is amazing: Chili Crab and Harry Crab (that roe is unreal), Hainanese chicken rice, cockles (not my thing, but I tried), prawn stews, carrot cake (the savory kind), Sushiro for casual rotation sushi, Birds of Paradise (possibly the best ice cream I've ever had), Lau Pa Sat (touristy but fun), kopi (local coffee), the coconut crème brûlée at my hotel, and more.
The Jewel at Changi Airport was a surreal last stop — a giant waterfall inside a mall-meets-garden — lush, over-the-top, and yes, beautifully excessive.
I also loved:
- The Supertree Grove at Gardens by the Bay
- The Night Safari: white tigers, elephants, bear sloths, and animals I'd never even heard of
- Haji Lane: vibrant, quirky, photogenic
- Random acts of kindness — like the man who paid for my chicken rice when I didn't have cash. Today, I returned to that same restaurant and covered the meal of a young man next to me, in his honor.
And finally, thank you to the ice bath club, where I got my cold plunge fix — and a free smoothie, just because.
a young country, a big machine
Singapore is only about 60 years old. It gained independence in 1965 after separating from Malaysia, and since then, it's become one of the world's wealthiest and most advanced nations — thanks to its strategic position as a port city and its focused, efficient development model.
It's impressive.
But I found myself questioning whether I could truly live here. Whether a culture so centered on performance, consumption, and status would nourish me in the long run. Or whether I'd spend every weekend trying to escape it.
thank you, singapore
Thank you for the sights and the flavors, the friends and the kindness, the opportunity to glimpse how tech is evolving across Asia. Thank you for your sleek buildings, your order, your ambition. For the incredible skyline, the friendly people, the hyper-efficiency.
Thank you for letting me get stir-crazy in a fancy hotel. For letting me ask: is this all there is?
Thank you for reminding me what I value.
And thank you — truly — for the adventure.
Till next time, my friend.
