Diary of an Expat in Singapore Read online

  Life according to Eliot (expat child, age 5)

  “Why did you make Alezander before me?”

  Second-sibling syndrome or something else? This morning, Eliot decides she needs to sit on the one chair (out of the possible six) where Alexander’s school project is. After a blood-curdling yell…

  Alexander asks: “Can’t you use your common sense?”

  Eliot: “I don’t even know what that means.”

  On a brighter note, when I ask my kids who their hero is…

  Alexander answers: “I know you want me to say you.” No, I don’t. I mean unless you want to. Totally your call.

  But Eliot responds without hesitation: “Alezander.”

  Eliot might try riding the school bus again – after noticing that those who do get to wear a special tag.

  Eliot’s stubborn refusal to ride the school bus is doing wonders for my exercise regime. She only took the bus on her very first day of school and then refused to get back on the following day. In her defence, even though the school is only about one kilometre away, the bus ride lasts more than half an hour. And since she’s geographically closest to the school she gets picked up first (and earliest), and has to stay on the longest. Hello, nausea.

  “If Alezander never does his homework, are you going to send him to the orphanage?”

  Boarding school… I said boarding school.

  “Is God here right now?”

  5:45 am, Christmas Day. The kids are awake and running to see if Santa has come or not. From our bedroom, we hear amazement and joy: Santa came! Teddy bears, dolls, miniature skateboards, and Silly Bandz…

  “But where’s the real puppy?” asks Eliot.

  This year both children decided to put only one thing on their list: a puppy. They knew chances were slim but they figured if there was just one thing on the list, the pressure on Santa would be huge.

  I’ve noticed that most expats leaving Singapore have caved in. Their children are sad about leaving but invariably overjoyed at the promise of a canine addition to the family: “We’re going to be getting a puppy when we get to Connecticut/Finland/England/(fill in the blank)!” This definitely sweetens the blow. I will have to remember this when the time comes. “We’re leaving Singapore… all your friends, teachers, the pool, our house… but we’re getting a poodle.” Hmmm, I might have more luck with a Jack Russell. My kids have already put two and two together. Their nightly conversation goes something like this: “So, basically, when we move, we’re getting a puppy, right? So, when are we moving? We can call the dog Buddy… No Sparkle… Sniper is cooler.” Some of their most bitter fights have been about what name to give this imaginary pet.

  The night before Christmas, we go to the children’s mass. It is very sweet and inspired but, after the first hour slowly becomes the second, a bit too long for kids. That, and the fact that Eliot asks in a very loud voice halfway through, “When is God coming?” makes me feel slightly guilty. Either I’m not taking her to mass often enough or we need to go over the basics of Roman Catholicism. Soon.

  On our way home, the budding theologist ponders: “If God made everything, who made God?”

  “Is there any place without ants?”

  The good news is Eliot, unlike her mother, has very good eyesight and can spot a tiny ant on the wall from across the hotel room.

  The bad news is… Eliot can spot a tiny ant on the wall from across the room. “That ant keeps following me,” she complains as we wait for a taxi on Newton Road.

  He’s not following you. Ants are actually very nice. If anything, they are scared of you because you’re so big and they’re so small. Maybe he’s climbing your leg because he thinks you’re a tree.

  “But why does he think I’m a tree?”

  It’s 7:20 am, there’s only so much mental energy I can devote to this topic.

  “Is there anywhere with no ants?”

  No, no, no. There are ants everywhere, Singapore, Italy, New York… Just get used to ants.

  “But not in a snowy place?”

  I guess, maybe Alaska. But I can’t say for sure because I have never been to Alaska.

  “Mommy… yes, you have. You’ve been everywhere. You know, before you were born. Before I was born I was just bones… and then God bought me. Right?”

  Where is that taxi?

  “Why didn’t you make me without whining?”

  It was a public hospital?

  “Which Winx should I be?”

  Oh no, Eliot has discovered ‘Winx Club’, an animated series consisting of five glamorous fairies with magical powers and super-short skirts. They’re so sexy they make Barbie look like a nun. I googled them and found out that this global phenomenon is actually Italian (that explains the fashionable look)… but still. A friend brought over the films and Eliot watched back-to-back Winx… for five hours. Now she’s hooked. Just yesterday, I was ever so lightly nudging her toward medical school: “Wouldn’t it be great to cure people?” But now she’s thinking: “Wouldn’t it be great to wear short, glittery skirts?”

  The other night in bed Eliot pondered her future movie career as one of the Winx: “When I get taller I’m going to be in the Winx movie, I can be Bloom even though I don’t have the right hair but that’s my favourite one…”

  Alexander briefly looked up from his bed, where he was reading ‘How to Design Manga Comics’, to ask: “What? Eliot is going to be in a movie?”

  “Yes, when I’m big. But Mommy, I’ll have to show my belly button like they do…”

  What? No, I don’t like it. I mean (covering up my innate ultra-conservative stance), well sometimes you can but not always. (I can be really tough when I have to.)

  “My name is Eliot and my Daddy ate a rabbit.”

  Lately, my kids have started to shift from the whole puppy idea to the more attainable bunny idea. Though we still compulsively watch episodes of ‘The Dog Whisperer’, I noticed the subject in their conversations has definitely changed.

  Eliot: “I really want a rabbit. I want a nice white fluffy one.”

  Alexander: “Well, how would you feel if you were a rabbit with brown spots and nobody wanted you?”

  “Sad?”

  Alexander: “Yes, so let’s not say for sure that we want a white one. We’ll just know when we see them all which one to choose.”

  Eliot: “Okay, I’ll take very good care of our bunny and I’ll tell Daddy not to eat it.”

  A somewhat scary train of thought, but the girl has a point. Her dad is from Verona and Veronesi are known to eat rabbit (you can put that down next to the horse meat already mentioned). He mainly ate it as a child and once mentioned how delicious it is with polenta (Italian-style cooked cornbread). This admission so impressed Eliot that I even heard her introduce herself by saying: “My name is Eliot and my Daddy ate a rabbit.”

  The heartless dad is still holding out on getting them a bunny but he has offered them this not-at-all trauma-tizing concession: “Sure, you can have one when we get to Italy. There are plenty of rabbits at the supermarket.”

  “Can we go to Hong Kong to get an eraser?”

  If you have a five-year-old expat kid in Singapore, do not be surprised. To them, this is a totally plausible request. When I went to pick Eliot up from school today she showed me a tiny eraser that her friend gave her.

  “She got it in Hong Kong. Can we go to Hong Kong to get more?”

  Hmmm, you do realize that Hong Kong is four hours away by plane from Singapore?

  “Well, four hours is not one hundred.”

  The crushing logic of a five-year-old.

  After watching a music video with Taylor Swift: “Is this girl in jail?”

  No, why? “Because Justin Beever is in jail. Maddie told Katie and Katie told me. Because Maddie sometimes looks at the news. A very important girl asked Justin Beever for chopsticks but he didn’t give them to her… so that’s why he went to jail.” So this is how rumours in the entertainment world get started. By first graders… wh
o knew?

  The fact that Eliot prefaces most of her questions with the words In real life… leads me to suspect she’s living in a parallel universe.

  If she found herself at a wishing well, she says she would wish for poor people to have houses with comfortable beds, to be a fairy, and to have a puppy. She also wishes beds were made of jello: “So we could bounce on them.”

  “I can be a princess?”

  In my university classes, we’ve been reviewing the hazards of gender-specific toys and my students have been writing on how market-driven princess paraphernalia can negatively (or not) influence a girl’s personality and ambitions. As a mother of a five-year-old daughter with a love for everything ‘princess’, this gives me food for thought. So today I asked Eliot: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” She usually answers: “Teacher or mother.” So, with a reassured feeling, I asked: “You don’t want to be a princess, do you?” With a look of awe, she wondered: “I can be a princess?!!” Not exactly the thought process I was hoping to put in motion. Very smooth, I know.

  Earlier in the week, I tried helping Eliot confront her fear of the school bathroom. I accompanied her in to show her that “Sweetie, there are no monsters coming out of the toilet.” At which she pointed to a sign which, in fact, clearly depicted monsters coming out of a toilet. What? The wording underneath the picture said: “If you do not flush, the toilet bacteria (illustrations of monster-looking creatures) will come out of it.” One small problem: most five-year-old children cannot read yet. The sign has since been removed. It’s not easy being five.

  “When am I going to lose a tooth?”

  I have to stop leaving loose change around the house. The reason I say this is because of Alexander’s neverending tooth fairy money. Very suspicious. If he had this many teeth fall out, he would be a toothless old man by now. He’s bought himself a yoyo, a super bouncy ball, a folder and even princess stickers for Eliot.

  I caught Eliot looking in the mirror the other day wondering out loud: “When am I going to lose a tooth?” Now when she’s mad at her brother, the new threat (which replaces: “I’m not going to invite you to my party”) is: “I’m not going to buy you something with my tooth fairy money.” So I guess now the two main questions running around in her little head are: “When am I going to lose a tooth?” and “How come Peter Pan never comes to my house?”

  Stereotypes about Singapore that are actually true

  It rains all the time.

  Yes, next.

  Durian really does smell terrible.

  It is illegal (and impossible) to sneak a durian (fruit with very specific odour) on the public bus in Singapore (actually hard to imagine anyone being able to smuggle one out of the country on a plane without the pilot calling for an emergency landing). The pungent and unmistakeable odour would reveal itself in a matter of seconds. It is prohibited not only on buses, but in hotels and in most public places. Clearly underused as an actual weapon of self-defence. Forget the mace can, women could just whip out a durian concealed in a special carry-on bag designed for this very purpose. Attention all fashion designers.

  Vandalism is discouraged.

  Two words: Changi Prison. And, you will be caned. As expected, there is not a huge incidence of vandalism. It’s a pretty good deterrent.

  It’s too hot to walk anywhere.

  And, unless you are promised an air-conditioned location as your destination, you will really have no incentive to walk anywhere.

  It’s very safe.

  This is the number one reason cited by expats for choosing Singapore over other Asian cities. Especially expats with children. The thing I find unnerving is how few policemen you actually see and how few sirens you hear. Then again, maybe the drilling is drowning them out. Or maybe… the police are really everywhere and you just don’t realize it… the taxi driver, the lady at the checkout counter, the janitor? Or have I just watched too many ‘Bourne Supremacy’ movies? As an aside, what does it take to get a siren turned on in this country? An invasion?

  The food is amazing.

  Yes, you will gain pounds and no, do not come here to diet. Most countries have one or two specialties but in Singapore there is an almost embarrassing array of choices: mee goreng, nasi lemak, chili crab, prawn noodles, shrimp dumplings, chicken rice, roti prata…

  Favourable taxes for foreigners.

  Recently a famous actor forfeited his French citizenship in favour of a Russian one so that he would no longer be forced to pay the exorbitant 70% tax rate. He really should have had a better tax consultant. One that would have pointed him toward Singapore, not Russia. The winters are so much milder.

  Changi is the best airport in the world.

  When you’re hanging out at the airport even though you don’t have a plane to catch… chances are it’s pretty darn special. Kids love going there and it rivals any kids’ club at five-star resorts that I’ve ever seen. There should just be a fleet of babysitters there so parents could just drop the kids off for the day… or the weekend.

  Singapore is one big mall.

  That’s totally untrue. It’s not just one big mall… it’s more like many small malls next to each other. And, let’s not forget the side streets next to the malls. They’re just not as popular on account of there being no air con. Which is the reason people go to the malls in the first place. There is always a new mall being built, which means another mall to look forward to.

  Gambling is discouraged.

  The casinos in Singapore are mainly intended for foreigners. In fact, you need to bring your passport with you or you won’t get in. If you are Singaporean, you need to pay $100 just to get inside. It might seem discriminatory, but actually it is a tactic employed by the government to discourage gambling addiction amongst its citizens. Now, if they could only stop the online gaming…

  Singlish is the dominant language.

  The government may have adopted a new policy to make English more widespread but not everyone was told. Even my university students, who speak to me in English, turn around and speak to their classmates in Singlish.

  A day in the life of an expat in Singapore

  Alarm clock goes off.

  6:20 am. It’s still dark outside, but will be light by 7 am… all year round. And dark again at 7 pm. Unlike Italy where there is a huge difference between winter (dark by 4:30 pm) and summer (not dark until around 9:30 pm). Once you get used to the consistency of Singapore, it is hard to get kids (especially toddlers) during the summer holidays abroad to believe it’s bedtime when it’s still bright and sunny outside. Tip: Use cardboard sides of boxes to block out the light.

  Before leaving the house for school, allow plenty of time. Even though it is compulsory to wear uniforms and simple black or white sneakers, they will still require extra time to style their hair.

  Give Alexander a virtual hug.

  If your son is in middle school and his friends are watching from the school bus, public display of affection is no longer allowed. Hence the virtual hug. Best of all, whether it’s spring or winter, there is no need to remind the kids of hats, gloves, or scarves. Just remember to pack their water bottle and snacks.

  Get to Eliot’s school.

  Unlike Alexander (who goes to a different school), Eliot doesn’t take the school bus. So, getting to her school involves treachery, devious antics, and luck. In other words, getting a taxi. It’s either that or walk to school. The walk itself is not so bad as long as you realize it will be a very hot and sweaty endeavour. Waiting for a taxi also has its pluses: your child can practise the latest hits on the radio, the multiplication table, and expand her knowledge of the capitals of the world. You don’t get to know the capital of Indonesia at seven years old if your taxi is punctual.

  Nurse measures Eliot’s temperature.

  After a recent outbreak of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease, the school nurse thoroughly checks every pupil’s mouth and hands before they are allowed to enter the building. Dengue fever, swine flu, bird flu�
�� never a dull moment. After the HFMD outbreak, it’s back to the basics. Just the temperature. And for those who think that is extreme, just think how much you like having your child at school with a feverish kid (the one time she doesn’t have a fever). Didn’t think so.

  Speak to the laoshi (Chinese teacher).

  Potential daily calamities for a kindergartener range from inability to participate in water play because of band-aids to forgetting homework. After yelling zai jian (goodbye), your child may run back for one last hug. Knowing that one last hug can rapidly progress to an iron-clad grip… make speedy retreat.

  Speed-walk down Bukit Timah.

  Only exercise of the day so better make it count regardless of car fumes and Bangladeshi workers on bikes trying to plough you down on the sidewalk. Never mind that the walk will leave you feeling about as refreshed as a french fry. Cute exercise gear is a must… or was that a water bottle?