Diary of an Expat in Singapore Page 3

  The visitor professes a love for walking second to none. He may very well have strolled down the cobblestoned streets of London and the tree-lined boulevards of Paris, but he has never walked through the CBD (Central Business District) at noon. To avoid dampening his enthusiasm, do not let on at first that Singapore isn’t really a walking city. Just send him to one of the city’s many parks. MacRitchie Reservoir, for example. Sure it has ravenous monkeys but what’s the alternative? City walking? Not unless you want heat stroke. Soon enough, the wannabe walking visitor will ask: “Or should we maybe take a taxi?”

  “If I had a pool, I would always be by the pool.”

  Don’t argue, let him figure this one out on his own. Do not point out that there is a reason swimming pools are deserted most of the day (and no, you are not counting the tanning Finns). It’s not just the sudden noxious fumes of mosquito fogging or the nearby earsplitting drilling. So, while I agree that the possibility of having a pool is by far the most awesome part of the expat life in Singapore, will you find me lying by one? No. Do I want a stroke? Not especially. You will find me in the shade wearing a wide-brimmed hat (and what my husband calls my burkhini) with my Japanese posse, doing what Japanese do best by the pool: watching their kids have a swimming lesson.

  After a few hours by the pool, the first-time visitor will suggest going inside in no uncertain terms. “I am dying out here,” he might think to himself. If he forgot to put on sunscreen, claiming, “Oh, I’m lucky like that, I never get burned” – two words: aloe vera. The industrial size.

  “I love local food.”

  You thought you loved local food. But you were wrong. Nobody likes local food more than the first-time visitor. Not even the locals themselves. He scoffs at your food choices and demands: “More chili, please.” The visitor explores with gusto hawker centres and wet markets looking for something original and genuine. Until something bothers him, like chopsticks. “Where is the fork? I can’t eat with chopsticks. This is ridiculous.”

  “Everything is so cheap here.”

  One trip to the supermarket should dispel that myth.

  Signs you’re in a taxi in Singapore

  The driver turns without signalling.

  Most expats have a love-hate relationship with taxis. Probably because it is slightly perplexing and vexing that although taxis are everywhere, this does not mean you will actually get one. In fact, it’s all pretty arbitrary. You try to flag down a taxi. The driver may or may not slow down, may or may not agree to take you where you need to go, and may or may not reach the agreed destination. The whole process is arbitrary.

  Kids call the driver uncle.

  As long as the driver doesn’t call me sister, I don’t really have a problem with this. It’s a Singaporean thing, the cleaning lady is an auntie, the taxi driver is an uncle. It’s like the whole island is related. Worse than a Mafia wedding.

  The driver expects you to tell him how to get where you need to go.

  In other countries, it’s the exact opposite. You take a taxi because you don’t know how to get where you need to go. Not in Singapore. You’d better know exactly where you need to go, how to get there, and whether to take the PIE, CTE, AYE… no, it’s not a game of Scrabble, but acronyms for the different routes you can take: PIE (Pan-Island Expressway, the oldest and longest expressway), CTE (Central Expressway), and AYE (Ayer Rajah Expressway). Soon you’ll be saying, “Just take the AYE to avoid the ERP,” with the best of them. Btw, if any urban planners are reading this: the ERP (automatic Electronic Road Pricing)? Not very popular.

  There is a pretty good chance you will have your wallet returned.

  I think it’s safe to say that anywhere in the world, forgetting valuables in a cab is not a good thing. It’s tantamount to kissing them goodbye. Here, it is not surprising to see someone breathe a sigh of relief: “Oh, I just left it in the taxi this morning.” Like that’s a good thing. And, it often is. A taxi driver famously returned $1.1 million left behind by a Thai couple. What they were doing with that much cash in the first place was never discovered. My guess is they were going to buy cheese (see ‘Signs you’re not slumming it in Singapore’).

  You feel lucky.

  Why? Because this means you actually managed to flag one down. Most likely after three other taxis drove away, vigorously shaking their heads no after you told them where you needed to go. And, even though they say it’s because they are at the end of their shift (really… at 11:30 am?), their refusal still stings.

  You’re feeling really lucky.

  Why? Because it’s raining outside. And no, it’s not just an impression. There really are fewer taxis around when it’s raining… you know, when you need them most. Whether it’s for insurance or spite, nobody can confirm. Surely, this doesn’t endear taxi drivers to commuters. At least, not in a downpour.

  Signs you’re at a Starbucks in Singapore

  It’s colder than the average Starbucks.

  Starbucks is ubiquitous and Singapore is no exception. Same logo, same coffee, just colder. Madonna claimed: “Italians do it better.” Singapore’s Tourism Board should claim: “We do it colder.”

  When I ask my Singaporean friends why they would agree to pay $6 for a cup of coffee when they could get it at a kopitiam for $2, they answer without hesitation: “It’s not about the coffee. It’s the lifestyle. You’re paying for the air con, the cool soundtrack, the free Wi-Fi.”

  They sell green tea chai lattes.

  If Singapore is going to carry international chains then those chains had better be localized if they want to be successful. Hence, the green tea chai latte at Starbucks, the prosperity chicken burgers at McDonald’s, and the spicy toppings at Pizza Hut.

  There are textbooks spread out on every table.

  Judging from the many students, textbooks strewn about, and nervous looks, it would appear Starbucks is the number one destination when cramming for exams.

  The staff speaks Malay.

  I have been to many Starbucks around the island and the staff is almost always Malay. I have no idea why this is. On their own coffee breaks, they choose spicy nasi lemak rather than blueberry muffins, but when it comes to grinding coffee, they know their beans.

  If it’s Chinese New Year, with every purchase of a venti size beverage, you will receive a pack of hong bao (red packets).

  Hong bao are the little red packets containing crisp, new, even-numbered banknotes that are given to friends and relatives on Chinese New Year for good luck. Hong bao is also a word that brings joy to every Singaporean kid and every expat kid who follows local traditions. Strangely enough, my own kids profess a sudden affinity for all things Chinese just around this time of year. Forget the tooth fairy, they’re looking for their hong bao. The tooth fairy is an unreliable late-night visitor but hong bao are a certainty.

  If it is the Year of the Snake, the teddy bear sold at Starbucks will have a snake on its shoulder.

  Children always want teddy bears, and when they walk into Starbucks it’s no different. Only difference is that if you’re in Singapore, and it happens to be the year of the snake, the teddy bear will have a reptile draped over its shoulders. The fact that it is stuffed and made of green velveteen makes it only slightly less creepy. But if it brings good luck, who cares if a snake isn’t exactly the cuddliest or most desirable animal for a toddler to hug at bedtime?

  Stuff expat moms in Singapore say

  “I love the weather here.”

  The weather is the great divide. You either love it or hate it. Humidity is where the buck stops. There are those who initially hate the constant heat and fear they will never wear their favourite jeans again and then grow to love it.

  “I hate the weather here.”

  You may look at the blue skies from your window and think: “What a beautiful day for a walk outside.” Big mistake. Once you leave your air-conditioned apartment and open the front door, and the hot air sucks the breath out of you and envelopes you like an electric blanket, you
realize that (1) it was your mind playing tricks on you, and (2) it’s going to be a very short walk.

  “I miss the seasons.”

  The changing of seasons is at the top of all expats’ list of things they miss from back home. For my kids, who have lived here most their lives, the seasons are almost an abstract concept. It is very hard for them to understand the statement: “It’s cold in December.” “Really, cold? Then why is the air con on?” Sometimes, I feel guilty that I’m depriving them of all the glorious autumns, springs, and winters I experienced as a kid. Then again, they’ll probably never have frostbite or have to shovel a driveway… guilt gone.

  “Do you have a maid?”

  Whether you have a maid, have had a maid, or ever contemplated getting a maid, be prepared to hear this topic… a lot. Young vs old? Well, you don’t want a late-night partier but you don’t want someone with arthritis either. And the discussion doesn’t end there: Filipina, Indonesian, or from Myanmar (in other words: speaks English, acts like she speaks English, or really has no idea what you are saying)? Live-in or part-time? Maids provide a never-ending supply of conversation fodder. For example, revealing one’s maid’s nickname is Slow Mo (as in slow motion) because she washes salad so slowly she gets to know the leaves on a first-name basis, or complaining at a social gathering about how one’s maid always talks on the phone, will bond two expats quicker than coming from the same town. When expats without help meet, they smile with a complicit air of superiority. Kind of like when people who decide to home-school meet… but without the glazed look.

  “Should I get my hair rebonded?”

  Like maids, the topic of whether or not to get one’s hair rebonded (chemically straightened) acquires marked relevancy in a country as challenging to Western-style hair as Singapore. Pros and cons are discussed at length on expat forums. If you have gravity-defying curly hair like mine that grows visibly higher every step you take outside, you might be tempted. Just remember, it’s only temporary.

  “I’m thinking of getting a car.”

  I don’t drive. So when I hear my expat friends talk about how much they miss their cars, how it was an extension of their house, complete with snacks, toys, and change of clothes… I can’t really relate. The closest I ever came to owning a vehicle was when I had a baby stroller.

  “Don’t even think about getting a car.”

  In Singapore, it’s cheaper to take taxis and they’re plentiful. Just stay positive when you happen to be waiting under the rain with your kids and two green-lighted (supposedly vacant) taxis pass you by. The first claims he’s only taking passengers to Jurong, while the second is waving his arm so frenetically he seems to be waging war with a bee.

  “My husband is in… (fill in the blank).”

  The expat mom is living in Singapore. The working spouse… not so much. China, India, Japan – really depends on the week. There is a lot of travelling and conjugal separation in the expat’s domestic life. Get used to it. You’ll be alone a lot. On the plus side, no more fighting over what to watch on TV. On the negative, if you slip and break your foot (true story)… you’re on your own. Additional tip: Keep the number of a good plumber handy.

  “Are you going home for the summer?”

  Initially expats go home for winter and summer, then just summer, until one day they wonder: “Wouldn’t it be cheaper to go to the Maldives?”

  “Isn’t Singapore Airlines great?”

  Once upon a time, the expat mom looked for great flight bargains over the internet. Five-hour layover in Doha? No problem. But once she flies Singapore Airlines… there’s just no turning back. It has been said that flying Singapore Airlines means your holiday starts as soon as you board the plane (Okay, I said it). Even when I had a baby strapped to my waist and a toddler with constant requests, I still clocked in about four movies while balancing a glass of chardonnay on my knee. That’s just the kind of multitasker I am. When it comes to watching movies I can be pretty ruthless. Being an adult can be great. If you’re flying Singapore Airlines… it’s awesome. And no, I do not work for them. Yet.

  “I love Bali.”

  All expat moms love Bali. They’ve either just been there, want to go there, want to rent a villa with their visiting relatives there, or stay at a boutique resort amongst the rice paddies in Ubud. Exotic Bali is the go-to place for Singapore expats. You don’t know what to do on your next break? Go to Bali. Your relatives are coming? Go to Bali. It’s your honeymoon, wedding anniversary, 40th birthday… go to Bali!

  “Lombok is the way Bali used to be.”

  As soon as the expat mom reserves her tickets for Bali, the first person she meets will say: “Bali? You should go to Lombok. It’s the way Bali used to be.” On a scale of one to ten, this will annoy the expat mom about a ten. Especially since she will hear that exact same thing from about ten different and totally random people. Suddenly her hairdresser, the taxi driver, the cashier at the grocery store are all experts on Lombok. “But I thought Bali…” you will try to say. “No,” they will mock you. “Bali is so last year. You really should have chosen Lombok.” And, you really should go to Lombok. As long as you realize that as soon as you buy your tickets, they will say: “Lombok? You should go to Bhutan.”

  More stuff expat moms in Singapore say

  “I read it in the Straits Times.”

  The expat mom may read the local newspaper but she has the front page of her newspaper from back home as her browser homepage. This serves different purposes. She already knows what the weather is like when her mom calls, she can see how cheap books are back home, and how her favourite soccer team fared over the weekend. It’s a good way to keep up with the gossip about those hometown starlets and disgraced politicians that never feature in the Straits Times.

  “Singapore is so safe.”

  Like almost all stereotypes this one is both true and annoying all at once, especially for Singaporeans. I’m sure that just hearing it makes them want to reach for a can of mace and spray it in your face. In fact, though incredibly grateful to live in a safe city, the expat mom will never say this to a local resident. It’s because she fears that if she does they’ll want to punch her on the spot. She’s probably right. The thing she would really like to know is why she never sees any police around or hears any sirens. But she doesn’t ask… just in case she’s talking to a plainclothes cop.

  “Where do your kids go to school? Is that fee per year or… life?”

  Expat moms allegedly ask this question to know if their children know each other. The truth is that misery loves company. Sure, the school is amazing, has a state-of-the-art theatre, an Olympic swimming pool, the whole deal; she just wasn’t aware that her child’s education would cost as much as a second mortgage on the house.

  “My kids have mycoplasma.”

  If you are an expat in Singapore, chances are you’re going to be treated for mycoplasma. Whether you actually have it, that’s another story. Mycoplasma is a word the expat mom never even heard of before coming to Singapore. Now it’s mycoplasma this, mycoplasma that. Whenever a kid coughs, sneezes, or looks drowsy, somebody will say: “He may have mycoplasma.” Elsewhere, it’s just a common cold that requires hot soup, fluids, and rest. Not here. The doctor dangles the word in front of the expat mom. “There is a test for it but the results take a while, so why don’t we go ahead and treat it as though it were mycoplasma?” The doctor will then hand her a prescription for Klacid (a special $150 antibiotic), and may even absentmindedly point to the cash machine as he says this. In honour of the Ponzi scheme, I like to call this the Mycoplasma scheme. In other countries they steal your wallet, here they diagnose you with mycoplasma. Seriously, how many people could possibly have walking pneumonia at the same time?

  When the expat mom’s child, back home in Verona for the summer, gets pneumonia, the expat mom is flabbergasted when she buys the antibiotic from her pharmacist: $5. “But it’s Klacid. This costs more than gold in Singapore.” Lesson to be learned: (1) It’s be
tter to be a pharmacist in Singapore? (2) Only get pneumonia in Italy? Or: (3) When the diagnosis is mycoplasma, get a second opinion? The correct answer? All of the above.

  Fun fact: When the expat mom also gets pneumonia in Italy and hers is the bad, bacterial kind which requires a three-day hospitalization, the entire bill will add up to the cost of one box of Klacid back in Singapore. She may have to share her room with four octogenarians, and go without a TV and air con, but who cares? Forget writing… she should be selling Klacid instead.

  “My kids need more Mandarin.”

  The expat mom knows her kids need more Mandarin. The reason she knows this is that they still sing the same two songs they learned three years ago in kindergarten and look completely baffled when taxi drivers ask them questions. The issue is how much more?

  Normally understanding and sympathetic, the expat mom will be unusually heartless when it comes to tracking her child’s progress in Mandarin. She has been known to threaten: “That’s it, only cartoons in Mandarin from now on.”