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I hit Two Men Bagel House up after long rides, long runs, long hikes, and for long conversations. But even by myself, how would I ever feel lonely when there’s so much bagel sandwich to smash? This requires the full concentration of a Rodin sculpture.
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We live in a Singapore with very solid renditions of regional American (or French, or Italian, or Chinese, or Spanish) cuisine. So it’s a way — even a fact — of life that to celebrate Wisconsin, we trundled up to a little hot dog stand using only Johnsonville bratwursts in Chinatown run by a Korean family.
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Marina Bay this evening was as breathtaking as ever, moonbeams descending upon where the newest part of the city waterfront hugs the Singapore River, the river gazing back up, reflecting starshine. “S G ❤” splayed across the Sands hotel’s three columns was the showstopper that snapped my head to the right for an OMGape as I arc’d over the bridge, and made me brake at the bottom, break my journey, and swerve over to the bay side to properly let the MBS light sparkle in my eyes. (All of the above would have been lethal at the same time, 7.15pm, on any regular evening with vehicles surging homewards out of downtown.)