Day Three - Orchard Street, Raffles Hotel, Singapore Night Safari

After a hearty, reasonably early breakfast we head off into the city centre to see what the shops have to offer. It's incredibly overcast today and from our 13th floor room the visibility is poor to say the least. Tower blocks in the financial district only a few hundred yards away have their summits obscured by the gloom.

Singapore is well known for its shopping, yet we weren't prepared for the sheer amount of gargantuan shopping centres covering the entire area. Since this is a relatively new city, the streets are nowhere near as bustling as you'd expect, and a much wider expanse is given to those purpose built department stores, eateries, indoor markets and exclusive designer stores bearing every fashion name around the world you'd care to name. Most of these streets as well are spread over seven or more floors. It's a lot of walking.

After ogling and drooling at fabulous (and fabulously cheap) electrical equipment, and amazingly resisting all the inherent temptations, it was disappointing to find that in actual fact, there not immense savings to be made on clothes - not when compared with, say, New York. After several hours of reasonably directionless meandering around the never-ending cavalcade of shops and more shops, unsurprisingly shopping fatigue begins to set in, and with weary feet and little bought we take a taxi back to the hotel.

Taxis in Singapore are great. They're plentiful and extremely cheap, and we find them the best option for getting around, and the drivers generally speak good English. This is one of the things that surprises me most here - not the cabbies, but the complete integration of the English language here. It's not even as though signs and shops display dual languages, as nearly everything is exclusively in English. The radio stations, television, papers, pretty much all media. I realise a lot of the heritage comes from English occupation, yet the influence is total.

After several hours snoozing, still recovering from jet lag and trying to generally recharge our batteries, we set off to Raffles Hotel and then the night safari. Earlier in the morning we had the Kuoni rep call us to try and sell us the excursion to the forest. Fair enough, though the 100% increase on the admission to the safari hardly seems to warrant the convenience of easy travel and pickup points, so we resolve to be somewhat more adventurous and resilient and make our own way there, involving underground and bus travel.

We're gutted when leaving the hotel to find we're in a downpour of tropical standards, rendering the idea of walking around dense forestry for the safari somewhat impotent. We decide to go to Raffles and take it from there.

It may be a clichéd touristy thing to do, but when you go to certain places in the world, there are a few necessary points of call. New York without the Empire State Building? Paris and no Eiffel Tower? Well, a Singapore Sling in Raffles Hotel is the equivalent here, and so we happily oblige.

Actually we're not disappointed; the Bar & Billiards Lounge in the hotel is surprisingly devoid of tourists which amazes me. Instead, it's spacious and inviting, with some evocative Ella Fitzgerald playing, and a few businessmen scattered around, obviously planning out the Asian economy. How authentic this sophisticated lounge is, and how reminiscent of its pre-renovation self, I don't know, but we instantly feel transported to the colonial era with big moustaches and cigars, blunderbuss by my side ready to bag a tiger. Lisa, meanwhile wouldn't be let in of course, but there you go. I do feel embarrassed actually asking for a Singapore Sling from one of the attentive waiters - you can almost hear the dismay in his voice, though thankfully he's way too professional for that. However, our embarrassment factor does raise several notches when our cocktails arrive. Pink with a lump of pineapple on the side. We immediately feel like Del-Boy out of Only Fools And Horses, out of his depth trying to be sophisticated. What the hell - we're the paying guests, and any feeling of lack of finesse is only brought on by ourselves.

I do make a foux-pas though in asking for the toilet, only to be asked whether I mean the restroom. Ouch. Strike one...

We leave well gone 8pm, with still no plans for this evening. The weather's cleared up, but time's getting on and I'm unsure about making our own way to the safari, and how much time we'll have there. It doesn't close until midnight, but we'll also have to get back.

We're both ridiculously indecisive (comes from us both being third borns) and after wasting time aimlessly wandering we decide what-the-hell and make our way to the safari. However, I've got bugger all money one me, and need to change some more travellers cheques. This involves us irritatingly having to return to the hotel, by taxi, receiving a crap exchange rate, then getting another taxi to the MRT, where after half an hour we alight and catch a bus to the zoo. In actual fact it's all relatively painless until I have to pay the bus driver who refuses (as is policy) to take anything but the exact change. I flounder about until thankfully a passenger breaks a $2 note for me. Eventually we arrive at the Singapore Night Safari gone 10pm with only about hour and a half to wander around, but I'm excited all the same.

There are two options here - one is a straight walk around via various trails, the other utilising a 50-minute tram ride with audio commentary. We prefer the foot method, not wanting to be unimpeded by others, or having to follow a timetable.

The safari turns out to be an absolute delight, and would be a highlight in any holiday anywhere - it's evocative, exciting and successfully instills a sense of trepidation. We take thin, windy paths, walking through the lush green overhanging forest. At least, I assume it's green as it's all extremely dimly lit, necessitating careful trekking along the way.

It transpires that we've evidently made a good move by arriving late, as the entire area is reasonably deserted, save for the odd guide who will helpfully point you in a good direction. We genuinely feel alone as we walk through the park, stopping occasionally to peer at a clearing or dense area, trying to spot the resident. I'm not a fan of zoos, with the cages that the animals inhabit, yet here every effort has been made to give all animals an extensive natural habitat for them to prowl, inevitably meaning that you won't get to see everything. They are not meant to be posing for the camera - just getting on with what they naturally do.

As we wander through these marvellous paths not knowing exactly where we are headed, surrounded by the endless baritone braying of invisible bullfrogs, we come across all manner of wild beasties - Tigers! Rhinos! Lions! Hyenas! Giraffes! Bears! Hunting cats of all types and aggression! Fluffy things with big eyes that climb trees!

By far and away the highlight is a clearing that contains some lions. Frequently throughout our walk we could hear booming roaring of some description, but were unable to pinpoint it. As we stare at the majestic, regal creatures, one of them obviously feels threatened by another, unseen lion and a standoff of roaring to protect his territory takes place.

I don't think that I have ever witnessed such a loud tremoring noise emitted by one creature alone. The male stands its ground and hollers at decibels higher than a Motorhead concert. It's exhilarating and humbling to witness, and just another example of just how well this superbly put-together 40-hectare safari is. Beyond recommendation, it was superb. It's not every day you stand two feet from a feeding fruit bat the size of a medium cat with no screen or anything between you, and no security around. Excellent.

Sadly we leave the safari to catch one of the last buses to the MRT, only to find that here won't be an underground there waiting for us when we arrive, the last departing at 11:30pm. Instead we take a surprisingly cheap taxi (considering the distance) back to Boats Quay for the first Tiger beer of the day. We've not eaten at all since breakfast and I demand a Subway sandwich after one beer, and we'll get to drink more at the hotel.

Not long after mentally praising the lack of English licensing laws and their archaic ways, we arrive back at the hotel to find last orders at the bar have been called (although the ubiquitous kareoke is blaring out) and that they won't sell us a Tiger beer. Bugger. Back to the room for a wee dram of duty free Jamesons then...