17 Signs You May Be in Singapore

One of the things that my husband and I have delighted in over the past year are the signs that you find around Singapore that reveal a bit of the unique (and often comical) culture in which we live. Enjoy!

You're Reminded That Being Overweight Is an Inconvenience for Everyone

Oh, Singapore! So subtle.

Trespassing Terrifies You

Enter and die!

For a gun-free country, Singapore sure likes to threaten gun violence

You Just Spent Your Kid's College Savings on Ice Cream

Two for $23.95! What a bargain!

You Just Rode an Escalator Outside

In Singapore, they put escalators outside just because they can.

You Just Ordered Your Meal on an iPad

Again, just because they can. The most expensive city in the world? Hmmm, I wonder why

You've Enjoyed a Singapore Sling

Ahhh! So refreshing!

You See Signs for Nescafe Everywhere

If America runs on Dunkin, Singapore runs on Nescafe

You Just Discovered Kickapoo, America's Favorite Joy Juice

Come on, it's called Kickapoo - that would never
work in the US!

Oh yeah, every American kid's favorite characters,
Lonesome Polecat and Hairless Joe

You're Painfully Aware That Durians Aren't Allowed Anywhere...Even If You Don't Know What Durians Are

No, they're not spiky bombs...they're the stinkiest fruit ever created

You've Had This Delightful Bathroom Experience

In Little India, shoes aren't allowed, so you even get
the opportunity to slip on plastic slippers worn by
countless other visitors.

You've Visited Haw Par Villa

And wondered what on earth is happening in these dioramas...maybe don't look too closely

You're Constantly Encouraged to Give Up Your Seat to Someone Who Needs It More

Go Singapore!

Your Burger Comes with a Side of Corn

Would you like corn with that?

 And maybe even a little Thai seasoning

Just Glancing at Cigarette Cartons Have Caused You to Throw Up in Your Mouth

If those don't get you to quit smoking, I don't know what will

You've Gotten Used to Seeing People Advertised as a New Product

No comment

Public Transportation Is Clean & Well-Designed

I'm lovin' it!

Squatting on Toilet Seats Is a Problem

Your bum greatly appreciate signs like this

Is That a Durian in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

In early April, I hopped on the Green Line to head back home after a frustrating shopping trip (you know, the your-feet-are-way-too-big-for-shoes-sold-in-Singapore kind). As I jumped onto the packed train just moments before the doors closed, I was relieved when a young man stepped back and moved his hand, allowing me to grab one of the handles and steady myself as the car lurched forward. "Thank you so much!" I said with a smile, then promptly turned around to avoid any awkward front-to-front contact that would inevitably transpire on the overcrowded train.

With thoughts of the recent BBC article which nicknamed Singapore "misery city" in the forefront of my mind, I shook my head thinking how wrong people were about Singapore. That was so nice of him, I thought. And then, abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted with an annoying, yet persistent jab in my backside.

Is that...? Noooo! It couldn't be! Could it? Yep...it is. 

Apparently I had been so impressed with the young man's actions, I had beamed a little too hard in his general direction. Thinking this was all just a mistake (the train was, after all, extremely overcrowded) and without looking over my shoulder, I took advantage of the next surge of people entering and exiting the train to find a new position. As I breathed a sigh of relief and braced myself for the next jerk forward, I felt the now disgustingly familiar poke in my rear end.

You've got to be kidding me! I thought, shaking my head. Thinking this might be a good way to communicate to my persistent follower that this was not mutual, I continued shaking my head back and forth. Unfortunately, this only resulted in attracting the attention of my fellow commuters in front of me. Since that seemed to do no good, I started trying to maneuver my sizable rear into a group of young ladies standing next to me without exposing my front side to my would-be pursuer (a feat that proved extremely difficult). When the train stopped suddenly, I took advantage of the opportunity to jab the young man with my elbow as I tried to fall further into the group of young women. I apologized to the girls for the intrusion, but still couldn't shake my new fan.

When the doors opened again, I took advantage of the situation and pushed my way off of the train (yelling an expletive dealing with the part of my body he was trying so hard to penetrate in the direction of the station's ceiling. I'm sure at this point everyone else on that car thought I was completely insane). On the station platform, I hide myself behind a large advertisement for Pokka tea, waiting to see if the young harasser would exit. As he inevitably did moments later, I took off running, shooting a glare in his direction and jumping into another car further down the tracks moments before the doors closed, thus ensuring my rear end a harassment-free journey from that point forward.

Since we've been in Singapore, I've heard rumors and read stories about groping and sexual harassment on the MRT (see Singapore's rather unfortunate anti-groping PSAs). In fact, just a few weeks before my run-in, I read an article in a local magazine detailing several young women's experiences with harassment on the train and how to deal with it. (Too scared to make a scene, I, of course, did not follow any of that advice). As is so often the case in these situations, I stupidly held the narcissistic, close-minded belief that if it isn't happening to me, it must not be happening at all. Or not that much. Or if it was, it was harmless. After all, Singapore, on the whole, is a much safer place than many of the big cities in the US.

So why is it that on this particular day I found myself with a rather annoying pain the butt? Well, a few factors came into play that resulted in me being the perfect target:

1. I'm a white woman. Many of Singapore's neighboring countries have very skewed views of women from western cultures, often thinking that because our countries aren't as sexually repressive as theirs are that we're all just looking to have sex with anything that moves. Let me just set the record straight that this is not the case.
2. I acknowledged my harasser in a positive way, then turned my back to him, unknowingly inviting him to investigate my back end. (Kinda makes you not want to be friendly, huh? Maybe that's the reason for Singapore's unfortunate nickname).
3. I was traveling on a line that tends to be frequented by immigrants or people belonging to the lower classes (even as I type this, I recognize how incredibly snobbish and entitled that makes me sound, but, unfortunately, it's true).
4. I was traveling alone. Although I often do this in Singapore, I typically do this during the weekdays on lines that cater more towards the higher-end commuters.

So, there you have it folks: the perfect sexual harassment cocktail. Obviously, you should avoid these situations if at all possible. And, in case you were wondering what you SHOULD do in such instances, hitting the emergency button on the train and announcing to the MRT worker that you're being harassed and indicating what car number you're in is the correct protocol. But hopefully you'll never have to deal with it.

Recovering, or Life as We Know It in Singapore

It’s been just over a year since we packed up our few remaining possessions, including the adorable Mr. Bailey, and started our lives in Singapore. Sometimes it seems like it couldn’t possibly have been that long, and other times it seems like we’ve been living here for ten years already.

In the time that’s passed since we first arrived, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my walls will forever be covered in lizard poop, that despite the fact that many locals also speak English, I will rarely be understood, and, no matter how well you store them, if you leave any pantry items open for more than a week, they’ll be stale the next time you reach for them. (I simply try to eat all the cookies and chips as soon as we open them to save them from this terrible fate). Life in Singapore has been nothing short of an adventure, to say the least. But if there was one word that I could use to describe the events of the past year it would be “recovery.” From both the exhilarating to the dismal (but, unfortunately, mostly just the dismal), the past 12 months have been a never-ending cycle of recovering from one event to the next, with little to no time in between to try to catch our breath…much less write. In short, we’ve found ourselves consumed with:

• Battling numerous bug infestations from the fairly harmless book lice to nefarious fleas and ticks
• Trying to combat numerous ovarian cysts
• Endlessly adjusting to time zone changes
• Recuperating from amazing trips (like Bangkok, Thailand – highly recommend) and terrible trips (Bali…sad, but true)
• Hosting visits from loved ones (we wouldn’t mind doing that one more often)
• Making great friends
• Losing great friends
• Struggling with insurance companies and immigration in both Singapore and the US
• Recuperating from a root canal and the countless dentist trips that come with it
• Continuously trying to make day trips to the beach
• Combating the mold and mildew that inevitably finds its way into our belongings
• Annihilating every toaster we purchase in Singapore (more on that later) 
• Adjusting to changes in responsibilities at work (again…and then again…and then…you get it) and working opposite schedules
• Tracking down countless lost packages
• Resuscitating relationships back home
• Trying to figure out how to file taxes when you’re married to a foreigner who works in a foreign country, but worked in the US for part of the year, and you work solely in the United States
• Losing VPN access to Hulu (why, Hulu, why?!)
• Dealing with a number of health issues that have recently plagued Bailey, from the stroke that terrified us in the middle of the night, to the fungal infection that just won’t go away

Whether this is just life at 30, or, as my sister put it, “It’s life at 30 when you’re living in a foreign country,” I’m not entirely sure. But here I find myself once again in this continuous cycle of recovery as I try to breathe life back into the blog that has gone neglected for far too many months. Bear with me and I’ll try to bring you some posts that will hopefully be mildly entertaining, if nothing else, and give you a glimpse of our ongoing adventure in Singapore.

Hazy with a Chance of Sarcasm

Looking for a foolproof way to enrage the entire country of Singapore? Easy. Just burn down the forests in Indonesia during the Southwest Monsoon season.

No, I didn't recently get a tan. That's just a thick layer of grime covering my entire body.

Ahhh. I love the fresh smell of haze in the morning

One of the best things about living on a tropical island like Singapore is the beautiful, sunny days during the dry months. The worst part? The hazardous haze created by the illegal burning of Indonesia's rainforests, which forces you to stay indoors during what would otherwise be considered gorgeous weather. And trust me, with the smell that comes along with it, you want to stay indoors anyway (imagine living inside an old, rusty grill that just keeps smoldering).

Haze can be educational!
At the beginning of the week, I wouldn't have been able to tell you what a hazardous PSI level was (anything above 300), what type of mask can best protect you from these dangerous pollutants (n95), and I would have thought that "slash and burn" was some sort of rebellious teenage, emo-punk fad. Now I know that it's a cheap method of clearing land often used by developers in Indonesia, which is why this problem continues to plague the countries of Singapore and Malaysia. Though there are laws against this technique for clearing land, Indonesia seems to have a great deal of trouble enforcing such laws, and, in my opinion, a great deal of trouble accepting responsibility for these actions. 

An excuse to act like a child.
Unfortunately, this is a problem that Singaporeans have been dealing with for years, though today, Singapore's PSI reached a record level of 371, which caused a great deal of concern amongst the citizens and political leaders. And worse still is that the smog may potentially continue for weeks, or even months. But don't worry, Indonesia feels horrible about what's happening. They quickly blamed Singaporeans and Malaysians for being just as responsible and the senior Indonesian minister, Agung Laksono, said, "Singapore shouldn't be like children, in such a tizzy." Ahhh. Nothing like some good old-fashioned Indonesian sympathy!

What's more fashionable than a mask?
But on the bright side, Singaporeans prefer the much more appealing word "haze" as opposed to it's ugly cousin, "smog," and I've only read one article that's used the term "hazepocalypse."  Plus, fashion masks are apparently easy to come by (they're probably just as effective as an n95 one, right? Then I'll take the leopard print one). And, if I've learned nothing else since being in Singapore, it's that pale is beautiful.

Coldbox Canvas: The Continuous Appeal of the Refrigerator

A Note: I apologize for being a bit delinquent in posting recently, but we've been filling up on experiences that we look forward to sharing with you soon. I promise I'll be better. Promise.

To young children, earning the highly coveted spot on the family's refrigerator for creating yet another superb drawing, not coloring completely outside the lines, or making even the slightest improvement on a test is cause for celebration...and for making your siblings jealous. Growing up, my mother never really gave in to such traditions. I think they seemed a bit trivial to her.

Nonetheless here I am, a grown adult who has been living on my own since I was 17 years old, and yet I've never been able to resist the urge to post something I'm really proud of on my refrigerator. This is an impulse I developed later in life, starting off as an ironic joke in my teens, with me using the amalgam of mismatched and broken magnets that clung to our fridge with no real purpose to affix my latest report card or a perfect score on a test for my "family" to see (just my mother and me at that point in time). In fact, I'm fairly certain that the third place ribbon I won at the Baldwinsville Turkey Trot in 2004 is still proudly displayed on my mom's refrigerator, nearly ten years later.

But somewhere along the line, the joke became engrained into my character. Whether earning a new title at work or paying off a student loan, the appeal to acknowledge this accomplishment where I'm reminded of it on a daily basis has never worn off. I'm sure a psychologist could have a field day with what this says about my psyche and my need for recognition, but it's also a positive routine that reminds me that hard work pays off and to celebrate the small victories in life. A bit trite, sure, but also true. How else are we expected to survive the rigorous monotony of adult life?

As you can imagine, having no means by which to post my latest achievement to the fridge has been a bit disconcerting. But was I going to let that stop me from posting in one way or another? I'm far too egotistical for that. So here's my slightly more technologically advanced refrigerator exhibit. Feel free to print it out and display it on your own refrigerator!

Ta da!

Don't Stop Smiling: A Tribute to Boston's Eternal Spirit

April 21, 2003: Patriot's Day in Boston, aka Boston Marathon Day. Before committing to run the marathon earlier that year, I had no idea that such a holiday even existed. And it wasn't one of those arbitrary holidays either, like Columbus Day, where everyone talks about it but no one actually has it off. No, Patriot's Day is fondly recognized by the city of Boston. On this day, the entire city essentially shuts down in order to allow its residents to enthusiastically observe or participate in the world's oldest modern marathon, spanning from Hopkinton to downtown Boston. 

Marathoners and me at the finish line the day before the race

I had only been training for the marathon for about six months and was, to put it bluntly, scared to death that I would never be able to make it through. Having never before run a race longer than five miles, I had not qualified for the marathon and was simply running with childhood friends, one of whom attended Boston University, to support Rosie's Place, a local charity that I admittedly knew little about at the time. On the morning of the race, the group of marathoners and I painted our names all over our bodies and across our shirts, ensuring that people would be able to cheer for us as we made our way through the seemingly endless 26.2 mile course.

Not being qualified runners, we had to start the race so far back that it took us a half hour after the gun went off just to cross the start line. With the sun beating down on our backs and fatigue already setting in, I remember that long trek to the starting line, wondering if it was even worth it to start or if I should just jump on the T and give up now. Blasting my specially prepared marathon mix on my Discman, Eminem's "Lose Yourself" carried me through those moments of hopelessness, which, compared to today's events, pale in comparison to what this year's marathoners had to endure.

However, as soon as I entered the marathon course, it was absolutely impossible not to lose myself. Bostonians and tourists alike lined the streets of the entire 26.2 mile course. At no point during the entire race was there a time when there wasn't a smiling face zealously cheering me on. Jovial strangers were continuously shouting my name with words of encouragement.

"Run, Gretchen, run!"

"Don't stop smiling, Gretchen!"

And I couldn't stop smiling. Though I'm sure the endorphins and my personal pride played a part in the grin plastered across my face, I have always attributed the majority of my ecstasy on that day to the contagious enthusiasm emanating from the residents of the city of Boston. For hours, I was showered in cheers and praises, given countless high fives, hugs, and even a few kisses. For the first (and perhaps only) time in my life, I had my own personal cheering section that never abandoned me, no matter how difficult the course got, and, with their support, I made it through. At that time in my life, no other event had had such a positive impact on me and I have carried that experience with me ever since.

As I awoke this morning on the other side of the world on the 10th anniversary of what was such a life-altering and empowering event for me, I was immediately bombarded by the news of the explosions that had taken place just hours before in Boston. My heart immediately sank. It seemed incomprehensible that someone would feel the need to cause such utter destruction on a day that has the potential to be filled with such joy and personal accomplishment. It saddens me that this group or individual will probably never feel such overwhelming support from anyone, much less an entire city that willingly opens its doors and supports throngs of strangers that pound its streets each and every year.

However, as I click through the images and news footage, I am heartened to see the amazing support provided by the city of Boston's emergency response personnel and its ever-devoted citizens. Though understandably dampened by today's events, Boston's spirit has not been destroyed. And now, it is my turn to lend my support and encouragement to the city that so willingly gave theirs to me when I so desperately needed it. Stay strong, Bostonians. Don't stop smiling.

Day 1: The Living Conditions Here Are Horrible...If You Hate Sunshine & Happiness

Where on earth did my husband drag me to?! Not only do we have this horrible view from our bedroom window...

...but when we leave in the morning to eat our free breakfast, someone comes into our fully furnished apartment and makes our bed for us. Just awful.

Alright, so in a few days we will have to move out of the serviced temporary housing and actually prepare breakfast and clean up after ourselves (lame!). But in the meantime, this has been a terrific break from the endless stress we've endured for the past several months while preparing for our move to Singapore. 

However, even after we move into our permanent apartment, we'll still get to enjoy these beautiful views...

If you look at the horizon, you can see the ocean

Kent Vale Courtyards

 And we'll still be able to swim in these meticulous pools...

...which appear to be vacant most of the day.

And, we got to spend a couple of hours with this little man...

Bailey & Andreas at Sembawang Animal Quarantine Station

Bailey enjoying the private play areas at the quarantine station

 ...who seems to be handling quarantine just fine

Mom, it's hot in Singapore

You guys can come visit anytime!