Spanish fly

Back in Singapore after our Spanish adventure, a question looms large: Would I take the Sprogs on another long-haul flight? The spontaneous answer: Not for a bloody long time. Ok, they endured the flights far better than me (those overnighters are so brutal, they might put me off international travel permanently. I’m hoping its like childbirth and I’ll eventually forget), but I reckon they’d be just as happy on the Gold Coast for a week (where their cousins sensibly headed this school hols). Both Sprogs were generally unmoved by Spanish ruins, French castles, medieval town centres … They barely looked up from their books on car trips whenever Husband and I enthusiastically pointed out sights and scenery. Exotic meals were endured as “boring” rather than enjoyed (unless there was a nearby playground involved). The scrapbooks I bought for them to fill with memorabilia have gone untouched, aside from my occasional gluing efforts. That’s not to say they didn’t get something out of it – watching them tout their audio guides around the Miro museum in Barcelona was very cute, as was their enthusiasm for a stalactite-filled cave in France. But generally, their wants and desires have been much simpler, even when kiddie-heaven events are on the agenda. Today, for example, after a sweaty, ride-filled tour of Singapore’s Universal Studios theme park, I took Sprog 2 for a swim (Husband and Sprog 1 had stayed behind for another eight hair-raising rides on the Battlestar Galatica roller coaster). When I asked what her favourite part of the day was she replied, “The pool!” I reckon the answer would be the same for the whole holiday. So I’m thinking the “adventure” travel can wait for a few more years. I’m going to stay close to home – and even closer to a pool – for a while.
TONIGHT’S MENU: Still jet-lag shagged, we couldn’t be bothered moving far from our Vegas-style accommodation on Sentosa Island, so we headed next-door to The Hard Rock Hotel (and you thought the franchise had withered and died). The Indian restaurant was delish. We scoffed a mixed tandoori plate, rogan Josh and vegetable kofta balls with nan bread, washed down with vastly over-priced alcohol.

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