My Expat Life

In 2007 I attended 3 weddings. Tonight I attended a wake. One more wedding and I’m a movie title. Singapore weddings are very different from western weddings. But the wake, other than some of the Buddhist traditions, really wasn’t all that different from what I am used to.

Four of us left work a little early to attend the wake for the father of one of our bosses. Upon arrival we paid our respects at the coffin by lighting an incense coil and adding it to a burner. There were two podium areas set up with Buddhas and offerings.

The rest of the wake was spent sitting at a table visiting with our boss and having his family trying to force food on us. “No we really don’t need anything” pleas were ignored and food was put in front of us anyway. The only time we got up was to give our “white gold” offering. In Singapore the traditional gift for both weddings and deaths is to give cash. And totally unlike in western tradition, the amount of money you give is recorded next to your name. Before arriving we checked with some colleagues that had attended the previous night and found that $50 seemed to be the appropriate amount to give.

Part way through the evening 3 buddhist priests/monks arrived. The family then gathered for prayer led by the monks. To the side of where everyone was gathered there was a metal trash bin with a fire burning. Part way through the prayers the family members got up from praying and took the numerous plates of food that were in front of the Buddha statue near the casket. The plates of food were put in the fire and the cups of milk poured onto the ground near the fire. I’d seen them prepare some of the plates earlier. There were at least 20+ plates that had been loaded with all kinds of different things. From my distance it appeared to be mostly sweets, but I’m sure there is some meaning behind everything that was on the plate. After the offerings the family went back to praying on the mats in front of the monks and other Buddha. At that point we decided it was a good time for us to leave.

Because of some major yoga conference thingy in Hong Kong, the class schedule at my yoga studio was changed for the weekend. As a result I signed up for the 10:30 am class and not the 4 pm class; something I haven’t taken in many many months. It was actually quite nice. I was done at noon, decided to skip the shower at the studio, had no wait at the taxi queue and went straight to the shopping centre closest to my apartment. I first went to Cold Storage to grab some drinks and fruit, and then to Subway to grab a sandwich.

As I walked out of the centre it was pouring down rain. Those huge, torrential, tropical rains. I of course had no umbrella with me. I could have sat in the food court and had my sandwich, or even gone back into Subway. I knew the rain probably wouldn’t last that long, but I was tired, hungry, and truth be told still wet from sweating it out in hot yoga. So I shoved my leather purse into my grocery bags and started the walk home. I can’t remember the last time that I walked in the rain with no umbrella. It was awesome. I didn’t mind the car splashes or the puddles and I made no effort to get home quickly. I just enjoyed the really, really long, all natural shower.

There is no denying that I am my father’s daughter. In many ways I take after my mom, but tonight it really hit home (no pun intended, well maybe a little bit), how very much I am like my dad. Last night we started by exchanging emails about basketball. Spoiled and basketball obsessed dad took off to Arkansas to watch Texas play its first two NCAA tournament games. After my inner-jealous, green monster was done rearing it’s ugly head we moved on to exchanging emails about politics. Many links and personal analysis were shared.Tonight after watching the second part of a BBC News program on Community Led Total Sanitation (teaching third world countries how to properly defecate), I sent my dad an email about what I learned tonight; sent one last week too. The episode tonight was primarily about efforts in Ethiopia and a really cool thing called arborloos - shallow latrines that convert the poop to a  compost that is then used for planting trees. He thanked me and then shared more about his basketball experience, taunting me with his decision to go to Houston to see the next round of the NCAA tournament. I withheld pointing out the fact that I am winning the family basketball bracket.  Mom and I talk basketball and politics too, we just don’t talk poop. We’re classier than that. 

This is the time of year that I actually start to miss living in the States. Not because March is when the weather in Austin becomes mind-numbingly phenomenal, but because of March Madness, BAAAAA-BEEEE!

Since I was potty trained, I have made it to at least one basketball game a year. This is a streak that I am proud of. Basketball is family time, we are all fans. My dad and I being the far most obsessed. And this is the time of year that we fully succumb to that obsession. Rejoice in that obsession. Don’t even think of apologising for the obsession, but rather gloat over that obsession. We love our college basketball and tournament time.

When I was at SMU, I was the first in the family to start attending the conference tournaments. Then I got my parents involved. When the Big-12 formed, my Dad was hooked and going to the tournaments with some of his friends. Once I switched jobs and my schedule opened up, I was allowed to attend the Big-12 tournaments with my Dad and his friends. Father-daughter bonding in its craziest, most funnest form. And man do I miss it. My Dad and his friend Dick, a former basketball player, had worked out the 4 days of the conference tournament in to well-oiled, smooth moving, schedule of perfection.

Thursday - Either arrive in town in time for the first game, or meet at hotel restaurant for breakfast. Then attend first two games of the day. Depending on site of the tourney, length of time between day and night session, rush out to get food away from the basketball arena. Go back to arena after dinner and watch two more games. Finish about 10 pm. Head back to hotel’s sports bar, or other location showing west coast basketball games. Watch games on ESPN or ESPN2 while consuming 1 or 2 adult, fermented beverages. Adult beverages are needed to wash down the ever so delicious junk food. (Especially if the tourney is in Kansas City and you can get that massive plate of nachos.) Cheer for some team that you’ve never paid attention to before like, Boise St, Idaho St, or some other small school with state at the end of the name. Eventually head back to rooms and finish watching whatever games are being broadcast before passing out into a basketball-overdose induced coma.

Friday - repeat Thursday, except with better games.

Saturday - sleep in. Only two games today. Unless the women’s tournament is being held nearby and there is a good final game, then attend three games. Games usually end early enough to go out to an Italian restaurant for a very good dinner. Then back to hotel to see if there are any other games still on ESPN or ESPN2.

Sunday - Again sleep in a bit. If the tourney is in Dallas, take in a museum. You know, just to try to see if the other areas of your brain are still alive. Then attend the final game. If the tournament is in Dallas, go to restaurant where we can get dinner while watching the CBS selection show and fill out our brackets before heading home. If tourney is in Kansas City, hope that a sports broadcaster is on the same flight home and will call out the brackets during the flight. If neither option works, call Mom to get the brackets.

Sunday night, arrive home thinking “basketball rules.”

And to take March Madness to the next level, there are tickets to the NCAA tournament involved. If very lucky, Thursday or Friday attend the first round somewhere in Texas and spend another day watching 4 games. Take one day off and then watch two more. If only lucky, wait one week and go to the sweet 16 located somewhere in Texas. Watch 2 games Thursday or Friday, take one day off and then watch the elite 8 game. If extremely lucky, wait two weeks (unless you are my Dad and go off to see Texas play some of it’s early games) and go to the FINAL FOUR somewhere in Texas. Wallow in fact that most other college basketball fans have to watch these games at home.

Oh how I miss March Madness and my family’s ability to ensure that the madness part is appropriately named.

Last week a top terrorist escaped from a local prison. It has had a weird impact. This is a country that is well known for it’s safety. Something I think the locals take advantage of. Hell, it’s something I am starting to take advantage of. I still tend to look over my shoulder or listen for someone behind me when I am walking alone at night. I just do it while walking through dark, empty fields around midnight. I heard from one of my co-workers that at his child’s school the kids now have to go to the toilet together, and parents were allowed to come pick up the kids early. There are posters of the escaped terrorist placed up all over the place. There are police and soldiers scouring lots of areas, I haven’t seen this personally but others I know have. Over the weekend the three main mobile phone companies sent the following mms to all of their subscribers: Please call 999 immediately if you see Mas Selamat bin Kastari. He is short (1.58m) & limps on left leg. Thank you. Our little piece of paradise is getting to experience a little bit of what the rest of the world experiences all the time. We just get to experience it with greater efficiency.

Last week I couldn’t take it any longer and made an appointment with an allergist. On Wednesday, he said that I did have a bit of a sinus infection. As I paid I was handed my bag of prescriptions (in Singapore you get them directly from the doctor). In my bag I had a ton of drugs. For the first week I was to take 11 pills a day. ELEVEN. How many would I have received if I had more than “a bit of a sinus infection.” As of today, I am down to 3 a day, much more tolerable.

This was the first time I have been on antibiotics in at least 4 years. And by far the most allergy pills I’ve ever had to take at once. Most days I tried to figure out which would be worse, continue to take all the pills that left me feeling nauseous and a bit loopy, or go back to the constant pain and popping of my sinus cavity. I stuck with the pills.

And boy did it leave me stupid. And yes I will forever use that as my excuse. It sounds good.

On Saturday, I went out to the pool for some sun time. I had my keys so I could go out my front door and take the public lift. But I stopped on the way out the door to use the nose spray I was given. A few minutes later as I was going down in the semi-private lift (that doesn’t go to the level of the pool), I realised that I did not have my lift card. Nor did I have my phone or my front door key. I had my towel, my book, my nano and my diet coke. Sigh. Of course our gate guard could only open the front door and not the semi-private lifts. At least the guard let me call a locksmith. For $100 I got to watch a guy pick my lock.

Yesterday, I stopped at the ATM to get some much needed cash. For the life of me I could not remember my pin code for that account. Locked myself out of course. Came home to try to reset the pin over the phone, locked myself out of the phone banking. So now I have to hope that the courier arrives tomorrow with my new pin code mailing. Otherwise, I have to break into my US savings account just to have money to spend in Australia this weekend. Sigh.

I have just packed my suitcase for my 6 day trip to Sydney. I so hope that the stupidity is gone and that I actually packed stuff I need and not just random items from my closet. Who really knows.

At least I don’t need a brain to hang out at Manly beach. And my friends already know I can be stupid, so they should be forgiving.

We are in the heart of the rainy season. That means that sometime between breakfast and lunch it starts to pour down rain. Rain so heavy, that even when walking with an umbrella you are soaked to the core in less than 5 minutes. The heavy rain is broken up by light rain or intermittent sprinkles. The breaks between the heavy and light are decreasing day by day. People are getting grumpier and grumpier as the daily amount of sunshine diminishes. When you live in a tropical paradise, you come to need a certain amount of sunshine.

Last night as I was getting on the train home from yoga, I was just about over it. One girl pushed in front of me to get through the ticket gate, another girl pushed several people to get on the train ahead of everyone else(the train was not that crowded and she was not in danger of missing the train, she was just rude).

After boarding the train I noticed the guy with the weirdly, spiked hair. It took two or three glances over my right shoulder to confirm that he did indeed have a red bath towel tied around his neck. We neared the next stop and the announcement for the station was made. A mocking, posh, Australian-accented, male repeated “Next stop Newton, next stop Newton.” This was soon followed by a mocking repeat of the warning to “mind the platform gap.” A few giggles were heard. Another glance over my shoulder confirmed that the voice was coming from the caped crusader. He stood with his feet spread and hands on his hips as he tried to keep his balance while the MRT swayed. He continued to repeat each announcement. And as the giggles grew, so did the volume of his voice.

After this super-hero brought much needed laughter to the train, he and his friends got off at my stop. He proceeded to take a stand next to the passing train, legs spread and hands on his hips, saluting the train cars as they passed by. Most exiting passengers were in hysterics. I can’t even imagine what the passengers on the train thought.

Thank goodness the crazy dude in the towel. We needed some fake superman laughter.

The clock radio went off at 6:55 this morning. CRAP. It was supposed to be my phone going off at 6:00.

Time to make a quick decision. Can I make it to the start line for the 10k by 8? Do I rollover and just go back to sleep? Because I had failed to do any training, I chose rollover.

The brain wouldn’t turn off. My biggest concern, how to explain missing the race to my colleagues that I would be seeing at a wedding around 12:30. So with the fear of having to explain not setting my alarm correctly, I decided instead that I would see if I could get ready in 30 minutes. A real challenge to eat and digest that quickly, but oh well.

At 7:29, I was in the lift on my way to find a taxi. It was a long wait, I was getting nervous. Ten minutes later I was finally on my way. Was I really crazy enough to go through with this? My training consisted of exactly 1 run after signing up for this thing. A run that was about 3 or 4 k. Then I did a lot of walking on holiday. Slooowwww walking. Last week I started yoga again. In fact I was still sore from the 90 minute hot yoga class I took on Saturday. Damn, I must be truly insane.

And then I started jogging. A steady, easy pace. I got a side stitch about 10 steps in. I tried to breath on every right step, then every left. Didn’t really work, but the pain lessened. So I kept jogging. A steady, easy pace. I kept passing the distance signs and I was still jogging. I thought for sure that by 3k, I’d be mostly walking. Then I hit the 5k mark. In 32 minutes. Wow. Not only was I jogging, but I was going a respectable pace. Then 6k. 7k. 

I never saw the 8k sign, but it was about half way between 8 and 9k that I had to start walking more than just the water stops. I probably ran half, walked half of the last 2 k’s. I crossed the finish line at about 74 minutes. A fantastic time for no training. Thank you muscle memory. Thank you BB King for keeping a good running rhythm. Thank you tolerance for pain (side stitch never went away). Thank you insanity. What a great race. And I even made it to the wedding by 12:30.

Woke to a hot and sunny day. I had to go to the travel clinic to get my anti-malarial medicine and my last hep-a & hep-b vaccination. After that I met the parental units at the Botanic Gardens. Who knew that we could kill 5.5 hours walking around. We really don’t like plants and flowers that much. My guess is that the quiet, the absence of crowds, and the FANTASTIC weather are the reason we spent soooo long there.

This morning I woke to yet another rainy day. The wet season is here, and for the last 3 mornings, it has been raining. Heavy rain. Stay inside rain. So we do. My parents and I sit and be lazy. Watching BBC or CNN news. Reading. Going online. Dabbling with work. Today was no different. Except, as the sun started to break up the clouds, I brought up our trip to Cambodia. We talked, looked at websites, looked at the guidebooks. And then we finally did it. We picked a time frame, a hotel and airline flights. And now it is BOOKED. Sunday morning, waaaaay to early to even think about, we fly off to Siem Reap. I absolutely cannot wait. After lunch, we were off to a walking tour of Little India. With tomorrow being Deepavali (Hindu festival of lights) we thought it would be fun to see the festive atmosphere today. The guide book said the tour was about 1.5 hours. We took 3-4 hours. While it was hot and exhausting, it was a lot of fun as well. We then came home and rested for a bit, before heading off to dinner. Last week I found a beautiful Thai restaurant in the Chijmes. It’s not cheap, but OMG is the food incredible. Since the rain was long cleared away, we sat outside amongst the candle lit tables. Great atmosphere to go along with the great food. Oh and did I mention how delectable the food is? Just checking.