Diary of an Expat in Singapore Page 4

  Forget good looks and fast cars, the one who knows the phone number of a good Mandarin tutor holds the key to the expat mom’s heart.

  “If I lived in a house I would definitely get a dog.”

  Right. And, since all kids want a dog, the expat mom has no choice but to remove any possibility of that actually happening, however remote. For example, renouncing PR, which is the only way she could buy a landed house. She will say the renunciation is so her son doesn’t one day have to do National Service duty (two-year military obligation which would actually be good for him), but really it is to eliminate the possibility of getting landed property, hence a dog. Even though expats can’t buy landed houses they can rent them. Sure, it might be a more pleasant environment for a dog but the Ferraris and Porsches parked outside are a good indicator of what bank account you’ll need to live in one.

  “When did you get back?”

  The expat mom is generally in a state of flux. Most likely she has just returned from a trip home, a holiday, or a ‘go see’ for her next location. Trips involve different time zones. All involve jet lag. Descartes claimed: “I think, therefore I am.” The expat mom would change that to: “I travel, therefore I am… jet-lagged.” Those who have chosen to not travel during the holidays find comfort in the uncomely sight of their terribly, almost clinically, jet-lagged friends. This inevitably makes them feel better about their decision to stay put.

  “My husband is learning Mandarin… Please, let this not mean we are moving to China.”

  This is a red flag – do not ignore it. Short of leaving a huge sign on the dining table with the words, “We are moving to China,” the fact that your husband is studying Chinese (and not complaining about it) is as clear a sign as any you are going to get. Statements like “Shanghai is such a vibrant city” and “Beijing has so much to offer” should also set off warning bells.

  Signs you may have overstayed

  When someone asks the kids where they’re from, they answer Singapore.

  Sometimes, I’m afraid we’ve stayed too long in Southeast Asia and that the kids won’t know their roots. What those roots are I’m not exactly sure. Alexander and Eliot were both born in Verona, but their father (a Veronese) claims they will never be true Veronesi – he’s basing this on the fact that they don’t swear, play soccer, or eat horse meat. So, I guess this means, for better or worse, Singapore is their home. But sometimes I get nervous. What if they never fit in when we do return to live in Italy (whenever that may be)? The traits they’ve recently acquired do nothing to assuage my fears.

  The craving to eat hot, spicy chicken at 10 am.

  Singaporeans used to openly stare at my young daughter dipping flat prata bread nonchalantly in hot fishhead curry sauce. Roti prata remains her favourite meal to this day along with curry noodles, but spicy chicken is a close second. If we were still in Verona, they might be eating a croissant at 10 am. But after growing up in Singapore… it’s spicy food.

  Alexander’s familiarity with chopsticks.

  I love watching my son eat with chopsticks. My husband? Less so. I can’t help but feel he’s trying to show off. An Italian friend visiting us wondered why Asians still use chopsticks. “It’s not like they haven’t seen a fork?” Of course, he may have just been grumpy because he was starving in front of a plate of delicious chili crab unable to use his chopsticks. The crab kept slipping away, there were no tissues to blot out the red stains on his shirt, and the bread rolls were miniature buns. He felt the restaurateur was sadistically dangling delicious food in front of him which he couldn’t get up into his mouth. Feeling personally affronted and increasingly depressed, he looked hopelessly for a napkin to clean his saucy hands. Alas, none to be seen. This is not unusual. Unrequested napkins on a table are a rare sight.

  Which is why, when first entering a food court in Singapore, one marvels: “How nice. There are free packets of tissues at the tables.” Not so, they belong to the customers who leave them to chope (save) their seats. If you want tissues, you need to pay extra for them. Other countries wanting to cut down on trash and waste should take note.

  The kids’ preference for rice over pasta.

  Even more worrisome for an Italian mom is that when we do cook risotto, they say: “I don’t like this type of rice. Make it the other way.” I’m all about cultural assimilation, but risotto is where I draw the line.

  Their giddy anticipation of chewing gum in Verona.

  I was told that chewing gum was banned in Singapore because people were sticking it inside the closing doors of the MRT (subway trains), causing the breakdown of the electronic closing doors. It’s hard to fathom who would try such a stunt since the last person who vandalized a train was deported (and it was graffiti). Bottom line, no gum. You can still buy a tasteless generic type at the pharmacy for medical purposes, but the delicious bubble-making type is like contraband.

  On the plus side, if you are someone who hates hearing people pop bubbles (Hi, Dad), then this is the country for you. I think the Singapore Tourism Board is underplaying a great selling point. They should proudly boast: “There is the death penalty for hard drugs but more importantly you will never hear anybody rudely pop gum in your ear. Never. Go to Europe for the gum, come to Singapore for the pop-free atmosphere.”

  Eliot’s knowledge of more words in Mandarin than in Italian.

  When Eliot arrived in Singapore she was just five months old and didn’t speak any language. Gradually, she acquired words in Mandarin at a much quicker pace than words in Italian. The only problem with that is that I have no idea what she is saying. Taxi drivers are always surprised that she’s learning Chinese. But I wouldn’t advise moving here solely for the Chinese, because surprisingly there are no schools where lessons are taught exclusively in Chinese. In fact, if I worked in the government, I would look into this. Expat parents are baffled at the discovery. Their kids? Extremely grateful.

  The belief that everybody has a pool.

  When my kids have a play date they always bring along a bathing suit. They don’t even ask if there’s a pool. They just assume. And, because it is Singapore and most expats do live in a condo with a pool, they’re usually right. There are some expats who choose a yard over a pool (much to their real estate agent’s chagrin). “The kids can run around and play,” they reason. At 100 degrees? I don’t think so.

  Eliot’s teary breakdown because she doesn’t have straight, black hair.

  My kids were the only ones in their kindergarten to have light-brown, wavy hair. Good during class recitals when I had to pick them out amongst a sea of shiny, black-haired heads; less so when they complained they weren’t like everybody else.

  Not to mention that saying Singapore climate is not kind to curly hair is a gross understatement. The sudden rain, the unrelenting humidity… my hair has on occasion reached new heights, and not in a good way. My hairdo once prompted my son to rush out of the school bus demanding: “What happened to your hair?” Umm, I washed it… and then waited for your bus while it dried naturally?

  But sometimes I wonder. Maybe the curls are good, maybe frizzy builds character. Why is it then that I spend a good part of the morning rush hour forced by my five-year-old to blow-dry her hair straight? Is it because I still remember when I was little and had a rubber band wrapped unceremoniously by my mother around an unruly ponytail in the mornings? My hair pulled back so tightly that I spent the rest of the school day with eyes wide open like a deer caught in headlights. And, at night time, when the rubber band was taken out, I could count the many hairs still attached to it. Good times.

  When they say they want to go to Disneyland, they’re referring to the one in Tokyo.

  Every kid wants to go to Disneyland. A fun place with all your favourite characters and cheerful staff (unless you’re going to the one in Paris). I just always assumed it would be the one in California. They say you can never go home again. The other day, I ran into an expat friend, one who had been especially homesick when I first met
her, who told me she was going home for a week. “You must be so happy!” I guessed. “Not really, I’m over home…” Her answer made me realize how much time had passed since we had last seen each other. Singapore really grows on you. There are friends of mine, no longer here, who refer to Singapore as paradise (true, they now live in China).

  Maybe it’s the absence of seasons that makes time stand still. That’s why it’s so unsettling when a friend does move away and you realize that your time as an expat here is just transitory. One night you have a wonderful dinner out with friends: delicious food, generous hosts, and fun company. But it is a farewell party so it’s a bittersweet occasion. One of the best things about being an expat is the eclectic mix of people you get to meet. But then those people leave. One friend is leaving for Switzerland to work at a pharmaceutical company, one is leaving for Sydney, another for Shanghai, and another for Bangalore to join her husband on his start-up venture. You will miss them because you remember how, over masala dhosa breakfasts in Little India, after dropping off your little kindergarteners, they were a big part of how you went from feeling homesick to feeling like you belonged. No matter how long you stay, you will never get used to your friends moving away.

  More signs you may have overstayed

  Your child brings soy sauce to school in case they are serving rice.

  When your child starts doing this, I think it is safe to say she’s ready for her PR. If Singapore and Italy were playing a football match, Singapore just scored a touchdown. You can pack all the leftover pasta bolognese from the night before in her lunchbox, but if the girl has soy sauce on her mind, she’s gone local.

  When you ask your son what season it is, he answers: “Monsoon?”

  Theoretically, you know the changing seasons have not had the same impact on your kids’ lives that they had on yours (mainly because they haven’t experienced them). However, it is still a shock when you ask that question in December and you are expecting him to answer: “It’s winter.” The fact that it really is monsoon and has been raining night and day with flash floods along Orchard Road does show he has a point. Still, it’s unexpected.

  When asked how they are in Italian, they answer in Chinese.

  Even more disconcerting, when they are in Italy during the summer and don’t understand what someone is saying, they usually reason: “I think he’s Chinese.”

  Then again, when they don’t understand someone in Singapore, they’ve been known to say: “He’s Korean.” It’s complicated.

  The answer to “What sign are you?” is not Sagittarius. It’s Snake.

  Undeniably Asian. At this point, I’m thinking this answer might not improve my son’s chances on the dating scene in America. On the other hand, if he never pronounces that cheesy question to a girl, I will consider myself one proud, Asian parent.

  At birthday parties they sing Happy Birthday in Chinese… before English.

  At all birthday parties in Singapore, it is customary amongst expats to sing both in English and Chinese. Now that my children automatically and without prompting sing the Chinese version, I can’t help but wonder: “Will they ever learn how to sing Happy Birthday in Italian?” Followed by: “Will they ever be invited to Italian birthday parties?” Remembering the huge quantities of liquor and cream-filled pastries I was forced to eat as a child… maybe that’s not a bad thing. And, exclusion does build character… or was that resentment?

  Uniquely Singapore (Part 1)

  Swimming in an outdoor pool on Christmas Day

  Only in Singapore. As I watch my kids frolicking in the water, I make a mental list of all the other things that make Singapore unique and differentiate it from Verona, as well as from most other places.

  Parental guidance

  No need. Profanity on television is bleeped and there is no nudity. I mean, none. My kids are totally shocked when they watch TV in Italy. And, that’s just the commercials.

  Capital punishment

  Once hoping to have a lively debate with my university class, I brought up the issue of capital punishment and asked my students: “Who’s in favour, who’s against?” 100% in favour… no debate. I knew I should have prepared more material.

  Live-in maids

  Cheap labour from the Philippines, Indonesia, and Myanmar. Here, even the maids have maids. Seriously. The wealthier Singaporean families have more than one maid so it is entirely plausible to hear how maid number one is training maid number two. The ideal scenario in Singapore includes a grandparent who keeps an eye on maid number one while she keeps an eye on maid number two. A viable solution for the dual-working-parent household or merely a way to keep the grandparents busy? Who’s to say?

  School etiquette

  Currently, there is a debate as to whether local teachers have the right to cut their students’ hair should the need arise. Yes – if it’s longer than the standard allowed or if the student has already been given prior warning. The mother at the centre of the haircutting media storm was protesting not only because a teacher had taken it upon herself to cut her child’s hair but because that was a $300 hairstyle. Let me repeat that: $300. Understandably, the student didn’t receive much sympathy. All students are expected to wear uniforms, no jewellery, and no make-up. Sneakers must be either all black or all white. The good thing is kids don’t need to worry about being mugged over expensive trainers.

  Construction work

  Ubiquitous working sites, trees being cut down, and consequent loud jackhammering… you just don’t hear this in Verona. As my kids see it: “That’s because everything is already done in Italy.” Condos here are knocked down for being too old (as in 20 years, not 200 years old). The con cept of old equalling bad is hard to comprehend for a Westerner, especially one from Europe. Sadly, beautiful shophouses and green spaces are being replaced by concrete. Malls are constantly competing with each other on Orchard Road as truckloads of Bangladeshi workers make their daily commute to work; all the bustle contributes to creating the image of Singapore as a city that never sleeps. And, if you live near a construction site, that’s not just a euphemism.

  Food courts

  Fantastic culinary oases, open all day and late into the night, where you can eat all sorts of delicious, inexpensive meals. Indian curries, Korean kimchi, chicken rice… all for $5 (less than a coffee at Starbucks). In some courts, you can use a special debit card that can be topped up at the entrance. Forget BYOB (Bring Your Own Beer), here the only acronym you need to remember is BYON (Bring Your Own Napkin).

  Tuition… for kindergarteners?

  Do you remember when you were little and couldn’t wait for school to be over so you could go out and play? At first, I wondered where all the Singaporean kids were and then I was told they have tuition after class. In kindergarten? How far behind are they? This helps explain why the Singaporean school system has such an excellent reputation. Also, the inordinate amount of time spent cramming for exams (that’s the moms), and the consequent breaking out in hives (again, the moms). However, if I think back to when I was in elementary school, my afternoon activities consisted of reading or playing outside with my friends until my mother called me inside for dinner. Not math, thank God. My Singaporean neighbour told me her daughter was the only student in her whole class to not have a math tutor. And that was only because she had left her own job as a real estate agent to become her daughter’s personal tutor. The girl’s education dictated their lifestyle (the mother’s quitting of job, the choice of condo they lived in), there was a lot riding on her test results. Pressure? Just a tad.

  Cheap taxis

  Very, very cheap. The price of an espresso at a bar in Italy – albeit one where you pay extra to sit down. True, taxis are cheap, but there are many variables. Peak hours, routes selected and booking fees can easily double one’s final cost. Also, taxi drivers are not too keen on picking up your child from school. Even though the meter is running it’s something they still hate to do. I have had taxis drive away the minute I stepped out to
pick up my daughter… and I hadn’t even paid the fare. They just couldn’t bother to wait.

  Eternal heat

  This is actually a stereotype. It’s not always very hot and humid. Sometimes, it’s just hot and humid. The Singaporeans have a solution to this. It’s called air con.

  A famous Italian writer, Tiziano Terzani, who lived in Singapore during the 1960s, remembered how there used to be no need for air con because there was such a pleasant breeze – thanks to the lush vegetation throughout the island. Unfortunately, the incessant construction work is dramatically decreasing any chance of that now. When there are no trees, there is no breeze. Hopefully, the urban planners will not allow Singapore to become another asphalt jungle. Did somebody say Hong Kong?

  Singlish