Testimonial of a Californian

Yes...it is official. After my uneventful visit to the DMV (shouldn't there have been some sort of ceremony as I changed ranks), I am now a bona fide, legally bound Californian. Though I'm not yet sure exactly what that means, I do know it comes with certain, eh hem, entitlements:

1. Our housing prices make two-income households struggle.
2. The state government is entitled to 10% of my income.
3. What the government does with that money is beyond me.
4. Among other educational cutbacks, highschool extracurricular sporting activities are down by half from last year (I wonder what students do in their spare time now).
5. Our governor (or should I say governator) is a former actor.
6. Our future governor could quite possible be a dot-commer-turned-millionaire (or is it billionaire now; how well is eBay doing these days?).
7. Gas prices make me think twice about driving down the street, much less driving across town. We have one of the highest averages in the nation!
8. I am now a drop in the population bucket, joining the 10% of the country's total who live here.

But despite all the drawbacks that come with residing in the Golden State, there is one good thing I still can say (and I say it with my utmost humbleness): I now live where others vacation!

Alamo Uncovered

When we first moved to Alamo (the SF suburb we call home), I was embarrassed to tell people where I lived. After all it was known for being snooty, expensive, and exclusive, and that's not how I roll. But like the Alamo in Texas, it seemed to belie its reputation. Home-size is small, it lies smack dab on a major road, and building architecture is simple. This was not the quaint, quiet, and cushy reputation that the name "Alamo" seemed to exude. So where was the money and the people who had it? Well, today I found out.

Wanting to check out the close-by trails of Las Trampas Region Park, I decided to follow Las Trampas Road and see where it took me. Intuitive enough, right? But instead of encountering trails as I had expected, I came face-to-face with the fortune behind the community's fame.

Closest to my humble abode lie the small quaint houses whose residents could afford professionally manicured lawns. But as Las Trampas Road got steeper the home prices did too. Bigger lots, better views, until finally I reached the top. Private property, private roads, gates that opened by remote, winding grandiose driveways that led to multi-million dollar homes, with panoramic views of Mt. Diablo and the rolling hills of the East Bay.

While I did eventually find the trails, I found myself more mesmerized with the Maseratis and mansions than the nature surrounding them. With stucco homes and terra-cotta roofs, stones embedded strategically random on facades, and trellises of vines that seemed as much for decoration as production, Alamo lives up to the reputation that precedes it.

Make It, Or Break It

For the past two weeks, I (and probably everyone else in America) have been mesmerized by the Olympics. Speedskaters being disqualified, the Canadians most revered sport ending in upset, and America's first medals in a sport dominated by Europe for 86 years. But along with the actual competitions come the stories: stories of strife, stories of disappointment, and stories of dreams coming true.

There's Tugba Karademir. A figure skater from Turkey who is the first to represent her country in her Olympic sport. But it did not come without a price. Her mother left her job as an engineer in Turkey so her daughter could train in Canada. Both parents now work menial jobs, and could not even land tickets to watch their daughter perform until an unknown benefactor stepped in.

There's Olympic ski crosser Chris Del Bosco, who has struggled with substance and alcohol abuse. After being stripped of two US national titles and being found drunk in a ditch with a broken neck, he entered rehab. Now being clean and sober, he is one of Canada's finest.

We, as Americans, love these stories of tribulation and triumph. But elsewhere in the world, they are not so revered. I remember a conversation I had with a friend before I left Singapore. His upbringing was less than stellar: his grandmother raised him, being abandoned by his mother. And the mother–son relationship today barely deserves the label "relationship." He has had to make success for himself, with little support from others. When I heard his story, I thought "that's a story that American dreams are made of." But according to him, Singaporean stories of struggle don't boost, they blemish.

When he opened my eyes to this fact, I thought back to my time in Nigeria. Not only were stories of tribulation and triumph not appreciated, they were the stories of everyone's lives. It's not just the poor, it's not just the middle-class. Everyone has trials, everyone has tragedy. And having money or an advantaged-life doesn't preclude you to a life without them.

So last night when I opted for American Idol instead of Olympics and the stories began again, I felt a little less sensitive. The story of Andrew Garcia whose parents were in gangs and they only sought a gang-free life for their son. The story of John Park whose family has struggled with money their entire lives. The stories were as much a gauge of success as the performance itself.

You see, here in the United States, our "stories" often make our success. Who knew that elsewhere they might break it.

By the People, For the People

As our time living abroad comes to a close, it seems appropriate to reflect on the differences between Lagos and Singapore. But what most travelers do not realize is just how much Nigeria and Singapore have in common. The countries' histories and cultural make-ups seem all too parallel. And if you visit both countries today, you may wonder how one could have done so much and the other done so little.

Nigeria and Singapore were both occupied not only by the British, but the Portuguese. Lagos is actually Portuguese for "lagoons" and Portuguese influence in cuisine and architecture is still found in Singapore’s homeland of ‘ole, Malaysia. While the past Portuguese influence in both countries is present but scant, the British influence permeates, most obviously in language. English is the lingua franca, with most using the local creole (Singlish and Nigerian pidgin) to communicate.

Nigeria and Singapore both claim a mixed cultural backdrop: Nigeria’s dominant tribes being Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba; Singapore’s ethnic mixes consisting of Malay, Chinese, Indian, and Eurasian. Both are key port cities, boasting prime locations for stop-offs and drop-offs. And their equatorial climates encourage rampant growth of just about anything that is planted.

But most surprising is both Nigeria and Singapore parted from the British empire the same year (1963). In the almost 50 years since independence, Singapore has grown to cosmopolitan acclaim, provides high standards of living for a large percentage of its population, and boasts some of the toughest schools and brightest professionals worldwide. Nigeria, on the other hand, still struggles to provide for even its richest inhabitants and has been riddled with corruption, civil war, and poverty.

So why has Singapore thrived and Nigeria dived? After all, Nigeria has oil (and lots of it) and Singapore boasts no resources of its own. Many may claim greed the culprit…after all, how often in history have we seen countries swimming in the coveted resources of the day only to fall victim to thievery and social decay? Others may think it’s cultural work ethic or unresolved tribal conflicts.

For me, I believe it goes beyond this, yet all being symptoms of the bigger culprit at hand. While Singapore evolved, Nigeria was created. As a well-respected friend and brilliant theorist wrote, “our superconductor world is at odds with centuries of native tribal and religious conflict. Consequently, when the pressure is on to ‘make it happen’– get that infrastructure up and running, stop the tribal infighting, hold free elections, and join our United Nations – the emerging nations are like high school football teams playing against the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl. It is not that nations can’t make it happen; it is that their nation-building process has yet to evolve and may not evolve for 100 years.”

You see, Singapore was given the chance to evolve as it should, to face troubles in its own time and way, to create a country when the time was right. From the beginning, Nigeria’s nation-building process was forced. Three major tribal groups were shoved into one country for no other reason than convenience. Its borders were drawn by Europeans living far away from the reality at hand. And, as with many African nations, particular tribal groups were given favor by the colonialists and granted the power to rule over all tribes. For too long, Nigeria was denied the right to develop on its own time line, in its own way.

While Singapore had a hand in its own creation, Nigerians still struggle in a country that was created neither by the people nor for the people.

*The picutre of Lagos is courtesy of outhere.de

Is Singlish a Sin?

As an English speaking visitor to Singapore, don’t expect to understand everything that is said. Though most Singaporeans do speak English, the Chinese-esque grammar combined with tones and pronunciation unfamiliar to the Western ear can make communicating a bit tricky. But is Singapore English, known as Singlish, a sin? According to the Singapore government it is.

For 6 years, Singapore has tried to play language police through its Speak Good English movement. Web pages, blogs, and teaching and vocational materials promote “standard” English as the preferred form. But as a student of language and culture, this particular topic strikes too close to home. The official stance of the movement is “to encourage Singaporeans to speak grammatically correct English that is universally understood.” Being universally understood is important; after all, what is the point of communicating in the same language if you can’t actually communicate. But "grammatically correct"? I'm not buying it.

In my experience trying to understand and be understood in Singapore, it was never the grammar that stood in the way. I quickly caught on to the shortened affirmatives (like “can” instead of “yes, you can”), and since Singlish mirrors the simpler Chinese grammar it’s actually easier to understand than the convoluted and repetitive “standard” English grammar. More so, different accents, pronunciations, and idioms were the cause of communication troubles. So why the big movement for speaking grammatically correct?

Singlish has a stigma: the uneducated, the working class, the foreigners who come to work there for a pittance all speak perfect Singlish. As I see it, wiping out Singlish is not a matter of being universally understood; it is a political and socio-economic statement put forth by the government. It elevates the educated to “preferred” and reduces the uneducated to unacceptable. It brands the upper echelon as “standard” and the working class as deviant. It blatantly states who and what practices the government finds acceptable and unacceptable.

Much like the English-Only movement in the United States, which often ostracises or in extreme cases punishes people speaking Spanish in vocational or educational settings, in Singapore Singlish has been dubbed a sin by the powers that be.

Baba-Nyonya Pride

I'm not so sure our Indian friend from my previous blog would vie much better in Malaysia. While Chinese–Singaporeans prefer to deal with their own in business relationships, Chinese–Malaysian (known endearingly as Baba–Nyonya) are among the most successful businessmen and Malaysia's richest residents. As evidenced by Melaka's Baba–Nyonya house-turned-museum, its sheer size and international flare on display leaves little doubt of Baba–Nyonyas' influence, affluence, and stories of success.

Malaysia's population has been influenced by and integrated with other cultures for centuries. From the Jawi (Tamil–Muslim Malay) to the Chitty (Tamil–Hinu Malay), mixed heritage is a reality for many living in Malaysia. But it is quite obvious which Peranakan group lays claim as the "true" people (or at least the most prominent) of Malaysia, even more so than native Malays – the Baba–Nyonya. Literally translated as "Grandfather–Grandmother," Baba–Nyonya tradition dominates much of Malaysian and Singaporean culture. Identifiable by their batik sarong kebaya (the nyonya's attire of choice) and famous for their multi-cultural cuisine (fusioned flavors which include coconut milk, pandan leaf, and lemon grass to name a few), Baba–Nyonya heritage is easily identifiable and loudly pronounced.

And prideful they are! Even here in Singapore, the local television network broadcasts a weekly comedy that spotlights, plays with, and exaggerates the uniqueness and stereotypes that come with Baba–Nyonya pride. Sayang Sayang (meaning "dear" or "love" in Malay) follows one Peranakan family as they compete for the family business, challenge each others' "Nyonya" skills in a kueh chang-making contest, don traditional Baba–Nyonya batik, and even publish a Peranakan dictionary (Chinese Peranakan of course).

Though Peranakan refers to people of any mixed ethnic origin, Peranakan pride means Baba–Nyonya on the Indochinese Penninsula.

***The first picture above is courtesy of Singapore's Peranakan Museum. The second picture displays kueh chang, Nyonya rice dumplings.

Hierarchy of Business

As an "outsider" living abroad, it's difficult to know and often even harder to understand the rules of engagement for your host country. It might be the business card ritual that catches you off guard (a necessity at meetings, with the 2-hand exchange being as important to the meeting as the business at hand). Or it could be rules for treating someone to a meal (still haven't figured that one out). But what I didn't expect were the rules of hierarchy...rules that at home aren't as pronounced as here in Asia.

This unofficial (or maybe it's official) caste system of the high-wage, low-wage variety first came to my attention at my place of residence. One of the restaurant staff, who was working as an intern, had to return to the Philippines. He couldn't find a job; they were only hiring Singaporeans because of the economic downturn he told me. Made sense, but this guy was a hard worker and seemed more capable than some of the full-time Singaporean staff! It seems there is a certain respect and advantages that simply come with a Singaporean passport.

And for the non-Singaporeans who do get hired, often the less-than-desirable jobs with less-than-desirable pay are what awaits them. My husband recalls looking out his window from the 26-floor and seeing at eye-level Indian construction workers building a nearby skyscraper. When he commented that he wouldn't want that job, a co-worked replied that you wouldn't find a Singaporean doing that work. Live-in help from the Philippines, Malaysia, or Indonesia don't fare much better. Though perks are included (like room, board, and trips home), the standard wage is about USD 300 per month.

Even among the Singaporean "elite" a business hierarchy exists. Our residents cafe not only serves as a breakfast nook but with the same frequency as a venue for businessmen vying for contracts. As such, I often overhear tid-bits of the dealings. Recently, I witnessed an Indian man being let down easy by an Australian business contact. His Chinese clients, the Australian said, "they like to do business with Chinese...you might have a better chance in Malaysia." The conversation ended with the Australian suggesting Indian contacts might also be a better option for his non-Chinese companion.

In the Singapore workforce, being Chinese–Singaporean is more than advantageous...it's predestinous!

A Buddhist Christmas?

And I thought Americans started Christmas early...

For the past 3 weeks, more and more Christmas decorations have appeared on our neighborhood's main thoroughfare (which also happens to be
Singapore's shopping district). Orchard Road runs 1.5 miles long before turning into Tanglin Road for another half mile...and Christmas decorations span the entire length! Complete with Santa Village, ornaments, lights, a 5-story Christmas tree, and snowmen (I guess there is such thing as snow in Singapore), this is by far the largest and most glamorous effort I've ever seen to 'Tis the Season!

But this over-indulgence in Christmas flare strikes me as a bit odd. Aside from the obvious early arrival of holiday cheer, last time I checked Singapore's population was half Buddhist. With Christianity accounting for only 15%, why would Singapore go to such lengths to celebrate (or at least decorate for) this Christian holiday? The answer: well, it's plastered alongside, above, and around the decorations on Orchard Road...money.

Enter the holiday season and enter the consumerism frenzy. Maybe not for its own citizens, but Singapore is an international city with a reputation for good shopping. And there's no better time than Christmastime to make up for losses during an economically-challenged year. This money-making mindset which dominates Singapore is not only evident by what you see on Orchard Road, but also by what you don't see elsewhere. According to some locals, Singapore invests in things that make money often to the detriment of non-money making ventures. The art scene is a perfect example.

Trying to find Singaporean art (or any decent collection for that matter) is like looking for a Christmas tree in Mecca. The Singapore Art Museum has an obvious paucity of local artists, and its permanent collection leaves much to be desired. In fact, if you want to see good art go to the hotels (a huge money maker in this tourist town). The Conrad, Regent, and Ritz–Carlton take pride in their art collections no doubt in response to their patrons tastes. Ranging from SE Asian masters to Chihuly, Frank Stella, and even Andy Warhol, these hotels put Singapore's national art efforts to shame with the Ritz–Carlton alone housing 4,200 pieces.

In Singapore, the old saying certainly rings true: money makes the world go round. And while art museums may yield little profit, hotels and "Christ"-mas mean money!

Past is Prologue

In the heart of Singapore's Chinatown lies three restored shop houses that offer a peak into Singapore's Chinese heritage, both good and bad. Being a museum, I expected to get a bit of history, learn some tid-bits about the early Chinese settlers, and maybe learn a new Chinese word or two. But what I didn't expect was an unveiling of motivations behind rules, norms, and habits that are now part of Singaporean everyday life.

The museum is set up like a living archive: personal accounts and quotes paper the walls; video taped old-timers recount memories of a less cosmopolitan Singapore; and photos on display archive times past and the red-hatted samsui women who swore off marriage and worked in construction to build the Singapore we know today.

The first video I stopped to watch recounted the post-Raffles days when Singapore's port was open for free trade. Tea and silk were not the only things traded however. Another export got the best of Raffles' new-found colony: opium. Opium dens of various "grades" littered the streets of Chinatown attracting both high-end visitors and "coolies" (manual laborers without vocational skills). And seamen coming ashore en masse also gave rise to another industry still alive and well in Singapore...prostitution. But the opium and prostitution brought more trouble than business. Addiction grew rampant, especially among the lower working class, and sexually transmitted diseases reach pandemic proportions.

When considering these two new realities that hit Singapore by storm, it sheds light on present-day national practices. Drugs are now "highly" illegal. And if you don't know what I mean by "highly," just take a look at your embarkation card as you enter this city-state: "Death for Drug Traffickers" it reads on the back. Also, prostitution is regulated to the nth degree. All prostitutes must register with the government and submit to frequent health screenings, a practice which started in the late-1800s.

In addition to sailors and foreign businessmen flooding Singapore, immigrants from China arrived (and are still arriving) seeking money and a better life. Though some (tailors, barbers, etc.) came with marketable skills, those unskilled lived a hard life most apparent by where and how they lived. With little money and little free time, their living quarters were sub-par to say the least. Recreated in the Chinatown Heritage Centre is the dorm housing common for migrant workers of the 1900s.

You may wonder what closet-size dorm rooms have to do with today's housing situation in Singapore. Well, recently a Filipina migrant I know (with marketable skills, mind you) was ousted from her "apartment" after the building shut for code violations. Apparently the landlord had divided already small apartments into numerous smaller rooms, many without windows or proper ventilation. Dorm living is still a reality in Singapore for much of the migrant worker population (both skilled and not).

But perhaps my favorite historical idiosyncrasy made-present is the "spot reserving" norm here in Singapore. In the heritage museum, one account described an outing to the Majestic Theatre back in its heyday. People used to designate their seat by placing a handkerchief on the location they chose. Any present-day Singaporean knows that reserving your spot during lunch-hour rush is key. And guess what they do? Place their handkerchiefs (well, now they are mass produced napkin packets wrapped in plastic and sold street-side) on the hawker centre table of their choice.

Maybe the past isn't necessarily necessarily prologue; but it sure does hint at what may be to come!

(Samsui photo taken from http://yesterday.sg/2007/04/samsui_women/)

(In)tolerance in Singapore

Singapore prides itself on being a nation of tolerance: tolerance for different heritages, languages, backgrounds, and ways of life. Every year, the nation even places these difference in the celebratory limelight during the country-wide HeritageFest. But how tolerant is Singapore truly? And are those who aren't Singaporean granted the same rights as citizens or even as human beings? I won't get up on my soap box, but here is some food for thought regarding one of the most "tolerant" countries on earth:

1. Muslims are not allowed to wear head scarfs in public schools.
2. Foreigners with HIV will not be granted work permits.
3. Foreign service workers who become pregnant while employed in Singapore will no longer be eligible for work in the country...ever again.

Life's a Mall

Just when I thought Singapore had reached its saturation point, Orchard Road outdoes itself again. On the corner of Orchard and Scotts roads, Singapore's major shopping district, yet another mall has opened. And this one is a monolith to say the least! "Ion Orchard" is a immense shopping structure that boasts 8 levels of shopping, offers 66,000 square meters of retail space, and crosses 12 lanes of traffic below ground. Housing everything from Dunkin' Donuts to Steve Madden, this new mall puts its neighbors to shame.

Jumping water fountains line the sidewalk by its main entrance; a grandiose spaceship pod-like entrances makes you feel like you're entering another world; and the multi-screen jumbo tron plastered on the building's facade dwarfs the massive TV screen advertising new release movies across the street. This intersection's only saving grace from mall supersaturation is a Marriott perched on the northeast corner. To add to its grandiose feel, the new mall is attached through above- and underground links to neighboring malls. My commute home now involves about a quarter-mile of indoor, air conditioned, and crowded mall hallways.

But with so many malls, you would think competition would minimize crowds. Not so. Apparently malling is a Saturday night activity. Returning home this past weekend around 10:30pm, the party was just starting at the Ion. Thousands of shoppers crowded the malls as they hung with friends, window shopped, and socialized. In Singapore, life truly is a mall...and all its men and women merely shoppers.

A Tropical Monopoly

Close to Singapore and a welcome refuge from the bustle of city life, Bintan provides a popular weekend getaway for Singapore and Malaysian residents who can afford resort-style pricing. The Indonesian tropical island is both easy to get to (just a 55-minute ferry ride southwest of Singapore) and desirable by more affluent standards. Though our day-long jaunt did not involve a resort stay, the influence of the resorts on this tropical community (both good and bad) was blatantly apparent.

When first booking our ferry tickets, I noticed only 1 ferry company serviced the island’s northern terminal. At first I thought it was a mistake; after all, when visiting its sister island of Batam just 35-minutes away, I had my choice of about 5 different ferry services. But after fruitlessly searching for other options, I finally booked the lone option: Bintan Resort ferry services. As suspected, this is the only ferry service offered…interesting.

Upon arrival and before even clearing security, the familiar “Bintan Resort” logo greeted us again this time not as ferry services but as a tour company. We approached the counter, were greeted promptly, and before we knew it had purchased a mangrove tour. Feeling a bit of buyer’s remorse for not shopping around, I scoured the terminal for other tour companies to see exactly how much Bintan Resort had ripped us off. But to both my satisfaction and dismay, there were no other tour companies…very interesting.

Soon we were transported to the Bintan Resort main office to pay for and join our mangrove tour. The office fronted a quaint handicraft village that also housed what seemed to be “local” restaurants and massage parlors. Taking a quick look around before our mangrove tour started, I noticed something odd. All the shops and restaurants were fully staffed despite an obvious paucity of tourists; the shop owners all wore the same uniform; and though attentive they were not eager to sell. Hmmmm….quite a contrast from the city vendors we encountered later that day that wheeled and dealed looking to make a sale.

From ferry terminal to local transportation to tours, shopping, and eating it seemed as though Bintan Resort had a hand in it all. Whether it’s good for the local economy (providing jobs and free housing to employees) or debilitating to local community growth (the “real” local shops and industry don’t stand a chance against the Bintan Resort conglomerate), it is obvious this tropical monopoly influences the livelihood of those who call Bintan home.

The Price of Paradise

Our visit to Phuket was just that....paradise. Thailand's not-so-well kept secret boasts picturesque beaches, beautifully manicured resorts, and terrain that both inhibits and astounds. But despite Thailand's reputation for being a budget get-away destination, Phuket knows what it's got and flaunts it to the despise of some travelers' pocketbooks.
As my Lonely Planet guidebook puts it, "Going cheap in popular Patong is like slumming in Beverly Hills...you're sure to have hotel envy." Beer and food are cheap as are massages and souvenirs; but what you save in trinkets, pad thai, and Tsingtao you make up for in hotel fees and cab fares.

For tourist it's the wallet that feels it; but even for locals there's a price to pay for living in one of the most beautiful places on earth. It's simply dangerous. In 2004, Phuket and its residents were not spared devastation from the Sumatra-born tsunami. Popular Patong Beach was among the hardest hit. Even without underwater earthquakes wreaking havoc, drowning poses a real threat to locals and tourists alike. Over our 4-day stay, 3 drownings occurred as Phuket's notorious rip tides took unwilling victims out to sea.

Land-based activities can be equally as dangerous as the tropical climate bodes well for poisonous serpentine. My first encounter with a live cobra occurred just before we left! Even the local transportation seems anything but safe. Tuk tuks (rickshaw-like motor vehicles with no doors) drive next to vans and tour buses that plow their way along highways. The bigger and faster vehicles pay little heed to these slow-going chuggers that make their way like the little engines that could.

Phuket is paradise there is no doubt. But there's a high price to pay for a little heaven on earth.

Malling Around Singapore

Last week, I attended my husband's final photography class. Their assignment was to take nighttime city skyline photos from the Esplanade performing arts center. Arrive by 6:45...it's about a 10-minute walk from the City Hall MRT station, his teacher informed. Easy enough. As we started our 10-minute walking commute from train to Outdoor Theatre, I took notice of something that has been ever present but until that moment I didn't
truly perceive. When someone gives me directions then attaches a walking distance to the end, I expect to traverse streets and pass buildings or neighborhoods. I don't expect a 10-minute walk through an air conditioned mega-mall fighting crowds of eager shoppers. But the reality is, most of my Singapore
commutes involve this.

To get to the 9 km rural canopy and park hike, you must navigate through underground tunnels, walk through a mall, and pass numerous shops attached to the MRT station. To access the Harborfront Ferry Terminal for any jaunts to Indonesia or to enjoy the weekend on Sentosa Island, you take a 15-minute walk through one of the city-state's largest malls, VivoCity, and never step foot outside.

Even with commutes involving outdoor walks, you can't escape the masses of consumerism that seem to permeate Singapore and its culture. Every Sunday when exiting the Toa Payoh MRT to attend church, we pass through long outdoor interconnecting corridors of clothing, food, and toiletry shops catering to the almost 120,000 residents who live in the surrounding buildings. The area where I take Chinese classes (Bishan) is hubbed around a 5-story mall with movie theatres, food courts, grocery stores, and more shopping than most mid-size American malls.

To be fair, while living in Chicago and commuting via "L" train to various locations in the city, I would pass many boutique shops and even malls (especially along Michigan Avenue). But the phenomenon is different here. Chicago malls stand alongside office buildings, freestanding department stores, and restaurants with a generous and relatively proportional speckling of each. In Singapore, the sheer concentration of malls and shops is simply unfathomable. The commute to and from our home base MRT stop serves as a perfect example, boasting more than 20 malls one way (I'm not exaggerating).

Whether you are commuting to and from work, sightseeing, or just killing time, there is no way to avoid malling around Singapore.

180 Degrees of Separation

It has been one week, Brian and I are officially settled in Singapore, and the differences between our former home and our new home....well, let's just say it's a whole different world!

Upon arrival, differences between the 2nd largest city in Africa and the city-state we would now live in became immediately apparent. We traversed a sea of never-ending tall buildings all the way from the airport to our new flat; impeccably manicured flora flanked all the roads; and everyone looked, well, American (except for obvious ethnic differences). In other words, this could have been any big, new city in the States with shopping galore and socio-economic differences not immediately apparent.

But not only did things look different, things seemed to work differently. Case in point. Obviously when a new tenant moves into an apartment, certain things must happen. Linens need to be changed, day-to-day norms need to be explained, and often there is a welcome package for those moving in. All of this was true for us in both Lagos and Singapore, but logistically they occurred in much different manners.

Just before leaving Lagos, I happened to be home when our roommate's new linens arrived. Others (a group of 4 or 5 to be exact) had come the day before but had not completed the job. This new group I encountered (only 3 this time) had the missing items and were required to remove others. After discussing for about 15 minutes what was needed, what had been dropped off, and what they were providing that day, I still didn't have a clear idea of exactly what had been removed, added, or left alone. I signed the "drop off" papers reluctantly, unclear as to what I was signing for...some of the items had been in our flat for months!

In Singapore, however, the handling of linens was taken care of by one person; and, upon a request for more towels, they magically appeared in our bathroom the next day (and every day that followed). To be fair...we did have to sign for the items in our apartment, but the list was the most exhaustive, accurate, yet understandable itemized list I had ever seen, accounting for everything from wall art to the dish drainer. And I haven't thought about our linens since.

As for our Lagos welcome package and learning the day-to-day norms of our living compound, this required "networking" for us to finally feel settled in. In Singapore, on the other hand, the welcome package was in our flat upon arrival, and routines and norms of our apartment complex were explained in detail to us an hour after we arrived.

In way, it's a bit like entering the twilight zone...coming from a place of inconsistency and few rules to a place where consistency and rules are king. But really, I think it's just 180 degree of cultural separation.