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Why so, and what exactly is it? Orchard Road is a shopping-street in Singapore. Here are 28 different shopping malls situaled alongside the same road. Absolutely everything. At the end of the impressive line of malls, there is one which is more shabby looking than the others.
A neon-sign announces that a club inside recently got a shipment of Rumenian girls. It is frequented by, among others, a lot of men from southern Norway working in the offshore industry, commuters and tourists. During daytime, the centre poses as a shopping mall, where you can buyglasses and electronic equipment, amongst the posters of naked women from allover Asia. At night, the placed is transformed into something else, dominated by alcohol, rhythmic music and sex. Yet, there is no doubt what sort of place we have come to.
In one of the bars, Crazy Horse, a customer is getting his treatment openly in the bar. He then buckles his belt and pays the girl. More than thirty other girls are offering us newcomers their services. Norwegian Law prohibits Norwegian citizens buying sex, regardless of where in the world they travel. The Law in Singapore is different. In this country, buying sex is not a crime, but selling sex can be, sometimes. In Singapore, you cannot sell sex in the streets. If the police catch a street prostitute with a male customer, often he may go free while she is punished.
Inside, there is a country bar called Jamboree. The bar is packed with western looking men, and we identify several Norwegians from the oil— and shipping industry. A Norwegian local politician has also found his way here tonight. He offers vodka. He admits openly that he prefers fairly young girls. And the girl with him at the table, in deed looks very young. The man tells us about his negative feelings for women back home, who are used to gender equality.
He says he prefer the women he can pay for, in Singapore. So does many of the other customers in the bar as well. Something happens! The man at our table is spilling a whole jug of red wine over the very young woman at his side. The rock artist Plumbo roars from the speakers next to us. The man from back home says we are at the wrong bar. He suggests that we leave through the main entrance, go pass two massage parlours and cross the hallway into a club called Ipanema.