Sari, Not Sari.

Sri Krishnan Temple.

Singapore — Singapore’s India Town is fragrant and alive.

Stopping at Komala Villas for rava dosa and masala tea, we’re chatted up by a curious tablemate. He wonders how we found the place, which seems to be a popular breakfast spot for locals.

It's also one of Singapore's oldest vegetarian restaurants.

Casting a bushy eyebrow, he worries the food will be too spicy for us. Instead, there's just tremendous flavour. Like everyone who has spoken to us the past couple days, he asks if there are many Indians in Canada.

The friendliness here — and the willingness to engage — is far more immediately evident than it was in Hong Kong.

Freshly picked garland.

While still running at half speed, the Tekka Centre is much busier today, ringed by tailors marking lines in chalk as sewing machine whirrs dissolve into the cacaphony of butchers and fishmongers breaking down the day's product on solid wood blocks.

Still, the colour of saris swirls into fruit stands and freshly cut rings of flowers. A rainbow of drinks sits on blocks of ice, rising in small, swirling clouds in the mild heat.

It's like the start of a rock show.

But with better aromas.