Expat Wife = Easiest Job in SG?

Posted on December 10, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

The easiest job in Singapore has to be expat wife.

The quote above showed up in the @hellofrmsg twitter feed earlier today (a person the account follows, not a specific comment to the account).  As I am an expat wife, I wanted to address this comment, but I knew it would take more than a series of tweets to do a fair job of addressing both the truth and the misconception of this comment.

First I think it important to note that the comment, and this entry address the life of expat wives in Singapore.  As my mother in law, and my friend Emily can attest, being an expat wife in other countries (the US and Japan respectively) is an entirely different ballgame than what I’m experiencing.  This entry is also based on my experiences, those recounted to me by my friends, the assumptions I’ve dealt with both here and back home, and does not necessarily accurately reflect every expat wife’s experience in Singapore.  However, this is the only point of view from which I can address this topic.

I’m going to try to address this without getting defensive, although I think it understandable that my very first reaction was to feel defensive.  Let’s hope that I can do it justice.  Please let me say as clearly as I can–at no point am I trying to evoke pity for the plight of the expat wife.  I hope only to promote understanding of what it is like to be in my shoes.

An acknowledgement of privilege.

I think that before I can address the assumptions inherent in the statement that “The easiest job in Singapore has to be expat wife” that I find problematic/troubling, I have to address the parts of that statement that are absolutely true.  I have to acknowledge the privileges inherent in being an expat wife.

Although not universally true, it is true that most working expats are compensated at a higher rate than locals. 

There is a lot of anger directed at foreign talent, and at expat wives for this privilege.  This anger is understandable, and absolutely in need of addressing by all parties involved.  I will say that my husband is well compensated for his work.  However, he is not the person who placed the numeric value on his job skills, nor is he the person who elected to hire him.  He applied for and accepted a job.  We have no knowledge of whether there was a local applicant for the position, or how they were evaluated in relation to Ravi.  The companies doing the hiring need to disclose what it is exactly that has them seeking out foreign talent–if local talent can be hired more cheaply, there isn’t a lot of logic in hiring an expat at a higher compensation.  If there are skills that they are looking for that local education isn’t providing, the MOE needs to address that.  But while we personally are not responsible for this trend, Ravi and I are participating in it, and our/expat ability to pay higher prices is partially responsible for driving up cost of living (among other reasons—expat wealth is not solely responsible for a cost of living increase).

Please do keep in mind that these interpretations of the tropes and perceptions of expat wife-dom are again based on my own incomplete understanding.  Please do educate me further about the assumptions behind this statement.

Due to our husband’s financial compensation, many expat wives have the option of staying home.

As an expat wife, I do have the luxury of being a stay at home mom.  This is not a privilege many/perhaps the majority of local moms share in.  Some local moms, like my friend J, have been lucky enough to have generous maternity packages.  But she is returning to work in part for financial reasons (and in part for personal reasons, including feeling fulfilled by her work).  This tension between stay at home moms and moms who would like to stay home but do not have the resources to do so exists in many cultures, including the US, and is not unique to Singapore.  However, expat wives are a visible symbol of this privilege and the frustration and resentment is understandable.  However, again, I don’t set policy for Singapore.  Singapore does not have the most family-friendly hiring/working/firing conditions for moms OR dads, and that is something I know that many are working to address.

The other truth that is inherent in my (and other expat wives) can afford to take extended vacations.  When my best friend Kate got married last August, I took the girls and went to the US for almost the entire month so that I could be there for the last bit of planning and to host the bachelorette party.  Before Ellie was in school/I had Rhiannon, I would often turn my husband’s two week trip home to the US into a month-long trip for Ellie and I.  I could, I suppose, take the girls on vacation without Ravi, but apart from going back to the US (where I have my in-laws, parents and friends for support) it’s not much of a vacation.

But our ability to do this is enviable.  Before I married Ravi I wasn’t in the financial position to afford regular vacations.  My family didn’t have a lot of money, and I was 20 before I ever flew in an airplane.  Growing up, I was jealous and envious of my friends who did get to go to Disneyland or to exotic places like California (I grew up on the other side of the US in Massachusetts), much less to places like London.  I dreamt of visiting them, but doing so was out of my reach.  I didn’t marry Ravi for his income, but I’d be lying if I didn’t openly admit that the income has increased my standard of living exponentially.

Expat wives sit around and shop on Orchard Road while everyone else does all the work.

The most common trope of expat wife-dom that I’ve seen is that we shop on Orchard Road, get pedicures, and gossip with other expat wives while our maids take care of our children and our homes.

Some of this is absolutely true.  I’ve met expat wives that fit that trope, and there’s a reason I’m not really friends with most of those women–we have very little in common.

But while I don’t fit that exact profile–I don’t often shop on Orchard Road (apart from Kinokuniya books at Takashimaya and occasionally Jasons’s Marketplace), and I don’t have a maid (anymore), there are assumptions in there that are true.  I am lucky enough to be a in a position to have a cleaning service, and I have a twice weekly babysitter.  I like a good pedicure (although I think my last one was over six months ago–babies and pedicures aren’t necessarily compatible).  I like to hang out with my friends–expat AND local.

More to the point, the assumption speaks to perceived luxury.  It is true that I have the resources to shop at more expensive grocery stores (although I definitely don’t have the buying power to even walk into Louis Vuitton or Prada).  I could hire another live in maid if I wanted to–and that I have the option of hiring a cleaning service that is more expensive than my live-in helper’s wages (although not wages+food allowance+taxes, I believe, although that’s not the point).

Growing up without money, I was frustrated that others seemed to get things so much more easily than I did.  I’m 90k in debt because I had to take out a lot of money to pay for my bachelor’s and master’s degrees.  Although as a teacher I was compensated at about the median income of the US (50K USD),  I had no ability to afford a home in one of the most expensive housing markets in the US–I was looking at a lifetime of renting.  If I had married another teacher, we would have needed loans to pay for our children’s education.

Expat wives expect Singapore to accommodate them, and not the other way around.

I hope that most days this doesn’t apply to me or my friends.  But it is true that it applies to some.  To this I can only say that there are assholes in every walk of life–be they expat wife, cab driver, teacher, or sales clerk.  And there are days it applies to me, when I am the asshole (I share a day like that in this entry).

We get to live abroad, and that is a rare privilege.

Living abroad at all is a rare and wonderful privilege.  We (including myself) often lose sight of that in our day to day lives.  This is a million miles (figuratively) away from what I expected my life to be at 34.  Living in Singapore as an American is one of the easiest places I could live–I speak the local language (sort of-see this entry for an English/English FAIL), foods that are familiar to me are easily available, the water is clean, the schools are good, and a thousand other things I likely take for granted, when compared with being an expat in another location.  To be fair, my only other experience in living abroad was that of a student living with a host family in Aix-En-Provence, France when I was 20 for one month-where again, I more or less spoke the language (sort of-in a grammatically deficient form), I had my housing and food largely provided, and I didn’t have to work.

Further, I get to participate in daily Singapore life in a way that Ravi doesn’t.  He works a ridiculous amount of hours.  He works in Singapore, but only gets to be part of it on weekends.  And that’s just not the same experience.

Addressing the problems/troubling aspects of the statement

Now that I have tried to address the truths of the statement, I’d like to address the problems in it.

The conflation of expat with the words wealthy, white, and Western.

I know a number of expats.  Not all are western-my friend Y is from Indonesia, and she’s technically an expat wife.  Not all are white-my friends W, M, J, A, and P (P blogs as Notabilia) are western expat wives, but are of Asian extraction, not Caucasian.  My friend E is both white and western but not wealthy.

This assumption that expat=white is really problematic.  My non-white friends have all shared experiences where a different set of expectations have been placed upon them because people assume they’re Singaporean, or think that they should fit a different set of stereotypes.  I see this trope constantly–an example from twitter is the question of “what salon is good with expat hair?”, and I recently received a media request to help them find “expectant expat women” who were using “local medicine” for a reality program–a request I correctly interpreted to mean that they wanted some white blonde girls who were using TCM for prenatal care to be a spectacle on a western show.

Obviously terms like “expat” and “American” are universally problematic because few people fit stereotypes (or fit them completely).  But I think that when we’re addressing a comment like “the easiest job in Singapore is expat wife” it is important to draw attention to the stereotype being addressed.

I’d also like to add the assumption of straight, but the truth is that if you are an expat wife in Singapore you are either bisexual and married to a person of the opposite sex (such as me) or you are straight.  Which is a whole other topic to get into another time (the heteronormative aspects of life in Singapore that I struggle with).

The assumption of a certain lifestyle

I know a number of expats.  None of us (American or otherwise) are members of our nationality based “club” (the American Club, the Dutch Club, the British Club and so forth).  Roughly only half have maids.  Most of us are stay at home moms–but we are involved, hands-on mothers.

Very few people come to Singapore on “expat packages” anymore.  Ravi has what is called a “local package.”  His company paid to relocate us, and put us up in a temp apartment for one month.  That is it.  We don’t get a housing allowance, or a school allowance, or any of that.  Which is not to say “feel bad for me”-I’m just sharing that the financial/corporate support is very different from 10 or 20 years ago.

What I’m getting at is that few of us have the lifestyle imagined.  Which brings me to my next point.

Statements like this only serve to push expats and locals further apart, rather than help us connect.

I am deeply grateful for my expat friends, American and otherwise.  Being an expat is a unique experience, and it helps you get through the day to know that some of your friends understand the parts with which you struggle.

I am equally grateful for my local friends.  Kirsten, J1, J2, J3, M, D, and my many local friends whom I’ve only met on twitter or via their blogs (such as Singapore Actually) are vitally important to my day to day survival in Singapore, probably more than I can ever express to them.  I am a stranger in a strange land, and they are my guides.  They’ve advised me where to find stuff, what restaurants they enjoy, recommended pest control services and dry cleaners, and they are my first line of information when I just don’t understand something.  I know they will be the people who will help me navigate the confusing process of getting Ellie into a local P1 class when the time comes.  And just as there is no universal expat experience, they have a wealth of different experiences that help me form a better, multidimensional view of the topic we’re discussing.

However, finding local friends isn’t easy.  You can’t just walk up to someone at a store or on the street and ask them, “will you be my Singaporean friend?”  In my case, social media (my blog and my twitter particuarly) and people who were willing to reach out to me were my entry to friendships with locals.  If I weren’t a social media/internet sort of person, it would be hard to find local friends.

There is an assumption in both the local and the expat communities that they are “other” from ourselves.  Statements like that only build resentment and further firm that assumption.  As an expat wife, I want to be defensive.  As a local, I might feel a twinge of resentment.

But the truth is that my local friends and I have a lot in common.

Those of us who are moms want the best future for our children.  We love them, and want them to turn into wonderful people.  We might feed them differently, or discipline them differently, but we all share the same end goal.  We like food.  We like many of the same movies.  We support each other when we’re having a bad day, and provide a shoulder to cry on.  We step in and pick each other’s kids up from school if someone is going to be late.

My friend Kirsten and I share a love of Broadway musicals.  We have a similar snarky sense of humor and I’ll miss her snark during the New Year’s Eve show, as she’s currently abroad in a graduate program.

I’ve been lucky enough to attend a local friend’s wedding reception, and another friend invited us to her home for Diwali.

I would love it if every expat had a great group of local friends.  Maybe we’d have less animosity if they did.

There are often things that aren’t easy about being an expat wife

Let me again reiterate that I am not seeking, nor do I deserve, pity.  I have a great life.  But there are things that are less easy here than they would be in my home country, and my purpose in sharing those here is to shed some light on the parts of being an expat that aren’t part of the public discourse in the same way that the parts of our life that are priviledged are.

  • It isn’t easy to be 10,000 miles away from my closest friends and family.  Yes, I skype, tweet, blog, and facebook to stay in touch.  It doesn’t make losing a relative but not being a position to fly home for the funeral easy.  It doesn’t make missing out on friend’s weddings easy.  It doesn’t make them missing out on being a daily part of the girls lives easy.  it doesn’t make days where someone posts “who wants to go to X” on Facebook and I want nothing more than to go to X with them, but can’t because I’m on the other side of the world easy.
  • It isn’t easy to learn how to navigate the ins and outs of daily life in Singapore, especially the parts that you think SHOULD be easy.  I had to learn how to use a washing machine and dryer again.  I didn’t know what to do when we lost power, and I was frustrated because it seemed like such a basic thing to know.  For that matter, I didn’t know how to call an ambulance…something that became vitally important when I was laying on my floor with a broken leg.  These moments of confusion, especially the longer I’ve been here are extremely frustrating because I feel like I *should* know how to do them.  But they’re not situations that your “moving to Singapore” guides or seminars cover.
  • It’s not always easy to explain your life to your friends back home.  Some parts are just so mundane–I take the kids to school, I do grocery shopping, I drive.  Others are weirdly different–the country is smaller than my home state (which is a small state to begin with), and I’m still not used to the nonstop heat.  But then there’s the middle ground–stuff that’s too mundane to be interesting, but not exotic enough to be interesting either–such as what it’s like to hire a handyman and navigate a home repair (we don’t have the 150 dollar deductible/then hire a handyman yourself dynamic back home).
  • It’s definitely not easy to have a maid.  I’ve written pretty extensively about this (20 posts).  But let me boil it down to some essentials.  For those of us who come from cultures where it isn’t the norm to have live-in help are ill-prepared to be effective managers of live-in help, and the MOM “training” just isn’t adequate.  There are major cultural differences.  Having a stranger live in your home, especially if this is an abnormality for your home culture is problematic.  Having a maid didn’t just fail to work out for us because she stole things from us (although obviously, that was an issue), but because I sucked at being a maid’s employer.
  • It’s not easy to raise third culture kids.  If I were raising them in the US, I’d have a lot of understanding of their day to day experiences, inasmuch as any parent has.  Raising the girls in Singapore means that they are having a radically different childhood from our own.  Which is partially the point.  But it isn’t always easy to navigate how to parent them in a way that supports their growth and respects who they are/how they identify when you don’t necessarily understand their experiences.  For me this is compounded by the fact that my children are biracial, and no matter how much I learn about Indian culture-I’m not Indian, I’m not a person of color and I will never completely understand their experiences.  Something I plan to write about is that when I was filing my police report on losing my purse in Vegas (Oh yeah, I need to share about that too), the officer asked me what race my children were and when they didn’t have biracial or “other” she asked me “what do they look like-white or asian?” and used that, to my extreme discomfort.  It’s not easy to support a child who is learning Mandarin (which I’m so excited by) when I can’t read the weekly summary of what they’re doing in Mandarin class (because it’s written in Mandarin), I can’t speak the language to help her gain vocabulary, and as she ages I can’t support her homework.

Some final thoughts

I didn’t write this post to attack whoever first said that “the easiest job in Singapore is that of Expat Wife.”  I always meant to address being an expat during my week as curator on @hellofrmsg and this was an entry point to do so.

Filed under: Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, Helpers, Housing, Identity, medical, money, Singapore, Third Culture Kids, With Kids | 23 Comments »

Diwali and Indian Identity

Posted on November 9, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

We took the girls on the “Small World” ride at Disneyland.  Ellie loved the singing and dancing dolls.  Europe, America, the North Pole–all great.  But as we entered Asia, she practically leapt from her seat, pointing.

“INDIA!  LIKE ME!” she shrieked.

Ravi and I were somewhat thrown; not because she isn’t (half) Indian, but rather that we’ve done very little to give her any sort of Indian identity.  I make Indian food a few times a month (which for her means rice, naan and papadum as she skips the chicken).  She has a few outfits, mostly for weddings.

We aren’t very culturally Indian.  We don’t speak Gujarati or Hindi (me because I haven’t picked up more than a few words here and there, Ravi because he refused to learn).  We are not practicing Hindus or Jains (although my mother in law is Jain), nor was Ravi raised to be Hindu or Jain.  We don’t really observe any Indian traditions.  I have a few saris and some salwar but I don’t wear them on a day to day basis.

If anything, our big concern/push has been to instill an American identity.  Ellie very much identifies as Singaporean, even though she’ll tell you she’s American (or at the least that Ravi and I are from America), she is very firm that she is from Singapore.

Earlier this week I told her she had been born in America, in Boston.

Looking skeptical, she shook her head.  “No, I don’t think so, Mommy.  I was born in Singapore.”

The identifying as Indian was somewhat out of the blue for us.  I mentioned it in passing to Ellie’s preschool teachers and they told me that she is very vocal in class about identifying as an Indian girl.

What I’ve learned from my husband’s experiences growing up is that as parents we don’t get to dictate our daughters identities.  Rather, it is our job to accept them and help them feel at home in their own skin.  If that identity is Indian, then my goal is to give Ellie support and to help build some family traditions that support that identity.

When our New Zealand friends arrived in Singapore, I suggested we go to dinner in Little India and see the streets lit up for Diwali.  We had dinner at The Banana Leaf Apolo, and then after dropping them at the taxi stand, Ellie and did some wandering around Little India.  We saw the lights lit up for Diwali, bought some Diwali decorations for our home, and a few lamps.

“What’s Diwali?” Ellie asked me.

“A festival of light,” I answered.

“Why?”

“……” I realized I didn’t know.

The truth is that I know very little about Diwali.

Our family does have a Diwali tradition, although it’s been spottily observed since we moved abroad; we eat Jalebi on Diwali, made by my mother in law.  However, I have no idea why we do that.

I asked Ravi and his comment was that it’s a festival of light and the new year.  That was his total knowledge of the holiday, having grown up Indian and having lived in India for several years.

Which is why I’m seeking out books on Diwali to share with the girls (any kid-friendly recommendations are very welcome).  It’s why I bought jalebi mix (so I can make the jalebi this year) at Mustafa.  It’s why I’m attempting to educate myself a bit more about Indian holidays (I’ve learned a lot about Indian culture during my relationship with Ravi, but very little about the holidays).  It’s why I’m grateful to have been invited over to someone’s home for Diwali.  And it is why I want to start building traditions for our family around Diwali.

Filed under: customs, Holidays, Singapore | 14 Comments »

Question Time–Mail related

Posted on October 3, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

I have a question–
Does Singpost not forward mail?
We have lived in our current apartment for 2 1/2 years and still get mail addressed to a previous resident.  I’ve written does not live here and put it back in the returned mail slot–and the same companies (as in financial/credit card companies) are still sending him mail at our place.  I have no idea if he moved out directly before us, or five years ago.

So–seriously–it’s annoying to get this dude’s mail.  Can I make it stop?  A neighbor has a note on the front of their box noting for whom they only want delivery.

And thinking forward–when we eventually move (either within SG or elsewhere)–does that mean that Singpost won’t do any forwarding either?

Please readers–enlighten me, as I realize I have no clue on this topic.

Filed under: customs, Expat to Expat Advice, Housing, Random Stuff, Singapore | 2 Comments »

Reverse Culture Shock

Posted on August 16, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

After driving on the left side of the road for the past seven or so months, I have had to focus and think hard about being on the right side of the road again.  I found myself wailing to anyone who would listen that “BOTH SIDES OF THE ROAD ARE WRONG!  THERE IS NO CORRECT SIDE ANYMORE!!!”

When filling my tank at the gas station, the attendant told me the total was $53 USD (66.25 SGD) and I almost replied “No, I wanted a full tank of gas,” thinking that there must have been a mistake. Then I remembered that gas is significantly cheaper here.  A typical full tank in Singapore is 100 SGD (80 USD), and that is for a tank that is only 2/3rds the size of my US tank.  To recap, I get 33% more gas for 67% of the cost of a tank of gas in Singapore.

Hello Reverse Culture shock

I’ve always been one to feel a deep sense of relief upon landing on American soil.  Coming home has meant that things finally make sense to me again without having to process or think–that I reflexively “get it.”

I’d heard of reverse culture shock but assumed that since I’m American as Apple Pie it would never happen to me.  That when we eventually moved home, I’d assimilate right back in without so much as a hiccup.

However, after two and a half years, it seems that my automatic sense of “just getting it” isn’t so automatic anymore. That I’m out of step here.  Confused.  I got lost when driving to a mall I’ve been to hundreds of times over the course of my life.  Perplexed by stores that are no longer there.  Looking for friends who have moved on from Massachusetts and the US.  Unsteady.

Playing with sidewalk chalk in my in-laws driveway with her Dada 

I’m not sure that we could ever use sidewalk chalk at our condo in Singapore.  But at my in-laws, Ellie is free to draw with it in the driveway and decorate the path to their front door, and no one cares if it doesn’t rain for a few days, knowing it will be washed away sooner or later.

Davis Square, Somerville Massachusetts

I am very used to the way retail transactions are done in Singapore, and it has shown in my two weeks here.

When trying to buy some stuff at a drug store, I handed the credit card to the cashier with both hands. WRONG-I should’ve used the machine.

I tried to insert the card into the machine to let it read the chip.  WRONG-I should’ve swiped it.

I waited to sign the slip.  WRONG-I should’ve signed the machine’s screen.

I’ve also used cash when I didn’t need to because I’m so used to credit card minimums.  In the US, you can charge almost any amount.  Often, when the transaction is less than 25 or 50 USD, you don’t even need to sign for it at all.

gorgeous sky

I know there are parts of Singapore where the sky is so big and so gorgeous it just blows your mind.  But due to where we live, where Ravi works, and where Ellie goes to school, the majority of my time is spent in the high rise mecca of the Central Business District. Seeing so much open sky and so many 1-2 story buildings shocks me at times.

Trinity Church with the Hancock Tower in the background (Copley Square, Boston)

Amusing anecdotes aside, the major change is ME.

I love being home.  I love seeing my friends.  I love having grandparents who are happy to babysit (for free, even!).  I love the long hot showers.  I love being able to shop for clothes that actually fit my body.  Oh, American Food–it’s so good that I’m only eating you for a few weeks–I can’t bear to think of how many calories I’m eating.

I’ve done some shopping–mostly for clothes for my non-pregnant, soon to be non-breastfeeding (or significantly reduced breastfeeding) body.  I’ve picked up Halloween costumes for the girls.  Some books.  A few dvd’s.  And we’ll fill a suitcase with food to be sure.

BUT.

I’m not running to Target, desperate for anything familiar, terrified to find alternatives.  I think of the food we took to Singapore, so certain we’d crave it, only to have it still sitting in our cupboards.  The tons of dvd’s I’ve bought only to not have viewed them as of yet.  Ellie wears uniforms five days a week–there’s no need to spoil her with a ton of new clothes, and Rhi is inheriting a ridiculous wardrobe from Ellie.  I’m more comfortable in the knowledge that if we truly need something, my in-laws can send it–or we can just live without it until our trip home in November for a cousin’s wedding.  In the 8 months since our last visit, the only thing I ran out of that was an issue was my preferred salon-sold shampoo and conditioner, and I bought more today.  I think it is a real possibility that we leave a suitcase or two here in the US instead of buying the two more we could to max our luggage allowance.  Sure toys are cheaper here (and so are books) and I’ve bought a couple, but…meh.

There is actually very little here that I couldn’t live without in Singapore (with the exception of my clothes and shampoo…and maybe a bag of my favorite bbq chips).  Realizing this is quite a shock to my system.

Singapore is home.  The way life works there, incomprehensible to me as it might be at times, is my “norm” now.

I find myself scouring my twitter feeds in the morning to catch up on my SG tweep’s doings.  I’ve joined in discussions dissecting caning (we’re against it), why women in SG aren’t procreating at the government’s preferred speed and volume, and rolled my eyes when people here think that the “National Night” video by Mentos is something to take seriously (also, I get most of the references!).  I’ve been in Singapore long enough to understand some of the political and social issues of the day well enough to have an educated opinion.

Ellie keeps asking when we’re going back to Singapore, and I think I finally understand why.  While I’ve enjoyed the trip “home,” I’m happy to heading back to the little red dot, which has also become “home.”

Filed under: Boston, cars/driving, Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, headdesk moments, Identity, money, North America, Pictures, Random Stuff, Singapore, Third Culture Kids, Travel by Continent, Country, US | 21 Comments »

Singapore Vs Us–Men and Kids

Posted on July 6, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

It is indisputable that Singaporeans LOVE children.  My girls are subject to a near-constant stream of attention and praise (and occasionally getting their photos taken by total strangers).  But it isn’t just from women, it’s from men as well.

In the US (and the UK, from what I hear tell), single men are treated as suspect….bluntly, a man on his own taking interest in a child is seen a potential (even likely) pedophile.  Don’t believe me?  Example #1–A girl lost in the woods hears men (part of the rescue team) calling her name and stays silent, but when she hears women calling her name, responds.  Example #2-British Airway’s policy that NO man traveling alone can sit next to a child he does not know.  Examples #3 & 4 (in the same blog post) a 9 year old’s friend is only allowed to play at her house if the mom is home, and a dad taking photos at a state park is approached by park officers because some women had complained-concerned that a man was taking pictures of children.  All the examples are linked off the Free Range Kids Blog (and are just the tip of the iceberg).

I can say that growing up, when learning stranger danger, I was always told to look for a woman if I got lost, and she would help me.  As I got older, I can attest that girls are almost programmed to be fearful and distrustful of men as potential rapists.  Walking alone at night?  See another woman, feel safe.  See one man, be a little concerned.  See a bunch of men?  Get a bit more worried.  And in the US, there are even uglier racial additions to this “all men are potential rapists” trope, particularly aimed at African American men.

In practice, what does this look like?   Here’s a very recent article about a grandfather who was kicked out of a Barnes and Noble because he dared shop alone in the kids section last month.  Meanwhile, not only do I feel totally free to shop in the Barnes and Noble kids section whether I have the girls with me or not, but I am constantly talking to kids I see there (as a former teacher and avid reader, I can’t help but constantly recommend books to kids), and their moms are either totally fine with it because I’m a woman or when I see them I introduce myself as a teacher, and that gets me an even bigger pass.

In the US, I smile at moms and coo at babies without a problem.  Ravi would never do it, unless he was with me or, better yet the girls (or best, me AND the girls).

Which brings me to Singapore.  Single men of all ages say hi to the girls directly, coo over Rhiannon, and chat up Elanor without any fear.  The only time it’s really surprised me though, is when teenage boys smile or coo at Rhi–and not because they’re male–because they’re teenaged boys (and I’ve never really seen teenaged boys drop their cool enough to coo over babies).  It’s taken me almost two years to actually realize this cultural disconnect.  Men here aren’t seen as potential predators–they’re “Uncle.”

To be fair, when I asked my friend Eric to be my mother’s helper, it did raise eyebrows amongst the other moms at pre-school.  But this wasn’t because he was seen as a potential predator–rather that it seems that it is a fairly new expectation for dads to be involved with childcare in Singapore (I’m getting this from the other moms and from magazine articles I’ve read–in practice it may vary wildly and I mean no disrespect).  Most families, should they need childcare, hire a female FDW (I don’t know that there are male FDW’s).  So having a male sitter was a bit of a departure from the norm.

 

 

The reality is that stranger abduction is incredibly rare (the majority of abductions/sexual assaults etc are done by people known by the child).  While rape is a scary specter, and something that needs to be discussed, assuming that every man is a potential rapist is just plain unhealthy.

I worry about the effects this has.  It is ironic that we are expecting men to be more involved fathers today in the US while the cultural message is that every man who isn’t our child’s dad is a potential predator.  How do we build healthy relationships (both friend and romantic) with people of the opposite sex if we’re taught to fear/avoid them?

Overall, I think that Singapore doesn’t participate in this toxic attitude taken in parts of the West and for that I’m grateful.   I like the girls using the term “uncle” both in that is a handy term that connotes respect, and it is also a term that doesn’t teach fear.  They are learning to have healthy interactions with men.  If lost, they would approach any adult, which will get them found faster.  Yes, I am going to teach them about common sense and to learn how to assess a situation, but I am not going to participate in the culture of fear embraced by the West.  Their lives will be richer for it.

Filed under: Culture Shock, customs, Singapore, With Kids | 8 Comments »

Then there are days like today….

Posted on June 12, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

My friend Jessica was somewhat prophetic during a conversation we had within the past six months.  We were discussing expat life, and she turned to me and said “the third year is the hardest.”  I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t discount her comment either.

There are times when the third year seems like the best so far.  I know how to get to places I frequent, I’ve found my friends, we have a routine, and while it’s not all rainbows and unicorns, it’s a good life.

Then there are days like today.

In general I try not to be the ugly expat or the ugly american.

Then there are days like today.

In general I try to keep calm and grit my teeth and just get through the day when it’s a rough one.

Then there are days like today.

To be fair, I have to back up a bit.  Last night our game plan was to eat dinner at Chili’s Tanglin Malll and then go downstairs and get groceries.  The plan was completely derailed when, after shrieking, I picked Rhiannon up and sat her on the table to play with her.  Within about 0.3 seconds, she’d reached out, gotten a grip on my cup of ice water, and tipped it over…directly onto my lap.  Luckily I was just about done with dinner, so the baby, myself and my soaking wet pants did a walk of shame to the elevator and down to the car where I could look like I’d peed my pants in private.  Needless to say, groceries didn’t happen last night.

Last night was one of those nights where just as I was falling asleep the baby needed to nurse.  Then she needed to nurse twice more.  Then she woke up and would not go back to sleep at too goddamn early this morning. Then, just as we were falling asleep, I got a call to let me know the dishwasher repair guy was 10 minutes away.  The dishwasher repair appointment that I’d totally forgotten about, and had not put on the calendar.

The dishwasher isn’t zapping me because it is broken.  Its randomly zapping me because the wall socket it’s plugged into isn’t grounded properly, which means I need to schedule a handyman appointment.

In this whole mess, I never got my shower.

This may seem like a small thing to some people, but my morning shower is SACRED.  SACRED.

Ellie had an accident.

Food ended up happening late, and I almost didn’t get to eat at all.  In fact, the only way I was able to eat was to let Rhiannon cry for the 10 minutes it took for me to make and inhale some food.  Which, you know, made me feel like mom of the year.

We were late to school.

Then, instead of relaxing and writing during school, I had to grocery shop.  I took Rhi to the Jason’s at Tanglin, where we’d planned to shop the day before.  I decided to load up on staples and just get a delivery tonight.  I loaded my cart to capacity, and got to the checkout.

The person in front of me had also done a delivery order and half of her order was waiting to be boxed.  I was really unhappy that they just started to run my groceries through without finishing boxing up that order, worried that things were going to get mixed up.

Then I clarified twice where my groceries should be divided between taking them home now and please deliver.

I look up from loading the belt and see things getting tossed into delivery boxes without any sort of regard for delivery versus take home now.  We’re not even going to mention what was happening to my loaf of bread.  Annoyed, I clarify that I’m taking home all of the perishables.  The bagger gets snippy with me about it, and is pissed that she has to take things out of a box and put them into a plastic bag.  She takes this out on my groceries, overloading bags and putting stuff together that shouldnt’ have been together.

I need to stop and say that improper and careless bagging is one of my biggest pet peeves.  One of my first jobs was to work as a grocery store clerk and bagger.  Grocery packing 101–cold stuff with cold stuff, veggies with veggies, boxes with boxes, bottles with bottles (but not too many so as not to tear the bag), and so forth.  I’m so anal that I actually put things on the belt specifically in the order I’d like them bagged.  And it still get fucked up beyond all hope.  And seriously?  Who puts cans in with BREAD?  Just….ugh…MAJOR pet peeve.

Whatever.  I get the bill and pay it.

They hand me the slip and do not say when the groceries will be delivered.  I have to stop them and ask for clarification.

“Before 6,” they tell me.

“No, it has to be after 7,” I tell them.

“Tomorrow?” they ask.

“Sure.  After 7.”

“Maid can take delivery?”

“Not everyone has a maid,” I snap.

This then devolves into a giant mess, with my stress levels (which were already spinning into “I want a one way ticket home” or “hide in my closet for a week” territory) through the roof.  When Rhi got hungry and starting screaming the kind of piercing scream that could be heard throughout Tanglin, I began to lose it.

They suggest leaving stuff outside the door….which would be fine if I hadn’t just watched them make each box easily over 50 lbs (and one box of baby food is so carelessly packed I want to open up a betting pool on how many jars will be broken…not if they’ll be broken, but how many).  I have a herniated disk in my back that I’m desperately trying to not need surgery for.  I didn’t want to get in trouble for leaving groceries outside in my hall until whenever Ravi manages to get home.

At some point I suggest they just refund my order altogether.  This is met with even more “cannots”.

Rhi is screaming these loud piercing screams at this point.  This is attracting a lot of attention, as I’m sure my visible stress level is.  Great, now I’m a spectacle, which makes me even more stressed and upset.

“Whatever.  Leave it outside the door, I don’t care.” I snap and walk out.

I was the ugly expat/ugly american.  I lost control.  I was not at my best.  I was not polite.  I was not understanding.  I just hit the end of my rope.  In short, I was an asshole.

I could try to justify or explain myself.  Yes, it’s probably been about a year now since I’ve had an uninterrupted night of sleep.  Yes, I am going through adjusting my mood stabilizer dosage.  Yes, I do have a very bad back and picking up one of those boxes could be the straw that literally breaks my back (it was a box of books the last time I needed surgery).  Yes, I was already having a bad day.  Yes, it was horrible customer service, but after three years, if I actually expect more than that, I haven’t been paying attention.

For me, the problem is that when I get really anxious and stressed, I get very rigid.  I have trouble thinking of different solutions (leaving the boxes in the hall and slowly unpacking them by walking repeatedly from the hallway to the kitchen, calling a friend and asking them to pick up Ellie, rushing home from school as fast as we could–which got me home by 6:15 over loud protests from Ellie instead of doing our usual routine and lucking out on traffic, or anything).  I had calculated that 7 was the most realistic time, given that deliveries tend to happen VERY early or VERY late.  If I said 6:15 was okay, they’d be there at 5:45–this is overwhelmingly my experience.  If anytime were fine, they’d call and ask if it was okay to stop for dinner and drop the groceries off at ten.  So after 7 was the ONLY acceptable option.

First, I got angry and called Ravi and just unloaded about how frustrated I was.

But by the time the elevator had reached B4, I was past angry and onto sad and frustrated.  I got to my car and burst into tears.  I cried the entire drive home.  I cried in my car in my building’s parking lot because my cleaner was still upstairs.

I pulled it together, got upstairs, waved hi on the way to my bedroom and fed Rhi.

Then I took a shower, which was the turning point.  I felt physically better, which made me more capable to deal with the rest of the day.

Did things get better?  Yes and no.

Ellie managed to have several bathroom accidents, Rhi screamed the entire time I was cooking dinner, Rhiannon would not go to sleep even though she was exhausted and it took several hours to get her down.

But…I managed to beat the grocery delivery home by about five minutes, thanks to the fastest pick up in pre-k history.  Miraculously nothing was broken.  My dry cleaning guy showed up and took my stuff.  I got everyone fed. Both girls are finally asleep.  I got a couple of good emails in.

Overall, today was one of those days.

I’m often reluctant to share stories like this.  I know that my parents and in-laws read the blog and I don’t want to worry them about what are effectively minor bumps in the road.  But if I’m going to be honest about my experiences, this is the kind of story I have to share as well.  Yes, there are craptastic days back home.  But I would be lying if I didn’t say that there was a component of today’s implosion that wasn’t expat related.  I felt like just as I finally had the rules down (delivery times, for example), the rules change and I missed out.  I was frustrated by the complexity of getting groceries to my home when back home I would’ve just ordered online (yes I know there are online options here–they don’t carry enough American products to make it worth my while–I’d still need to go to a grocery store or three) and scheduled a delivery within a 2 hour block that worked for me.  I was frustrated by the lack of communication (I could live the rest of my life without hearing cannot again), which at the grocery store was in part a language thing.  I was frustrated that I have to call my handyman and deal with the electrical issue in an apartment I don’t own as opposed to just calling building maintenance.  Little things about life in Singapore that irritate me individually, but all coalesced together and mixed with other life drama (aka no sleep, meds adjustment, Rhi’s clingy phase coupled with my feeling touched out) to result in a situation where, hours later, I am ashamed of my behavior.

There are sometimes days like this.

Filed under: Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, general places, headdesk moments, Housing, Shopping, Singapore | 16 Comments »

Culture Shock-Bathrooms

Posted on June 8, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

In the US, every single men’s and women’s bathroom has an accessible stall in it (minus super small restaurants/bars and such).  If you’re a parent out with a stroller, you use these.

In Singapore, with very few exceptions, there is one accessible bathroom near the regular bathrooms for both sexes.  These are often poorly maintained, smelly, and just not somewhere you would want to be.  Plus, they’re almost always full.

So what is a mom with a small bladder and a stroller to do?

The most common answer, and one that has taken me ages to adapt to…is to just park the stroller outside your stall, go in and close the door, and use the toilet.  (Assuming you don’t have  a maid/friend to whom you can pass the baby.)  When I have both girls, I tell Ellie she’s “in charge” of Rhi, and I’m talking constantly to her.

It’s ironic, really, as I’m one of those parents who is constantly railing against fear-driven parenting.  I know that predators are not prowling the bathrooms of Singapore hoping that a baby would be left unattended (and that other adults in the bathroom would let them take the baby without protest).  But every time I do it (because there isn’t an accessible bathroom near, because I’ve been waiting over 10 minutes at the accessible bathroom and my bladder is close to bursting), I cringe.

To be fair, my discomfort doesn’t stem from fear of predators.  It stems from fear of other parents.  I’ve read far too many stories about parents who have had the cops and child protective services on them for letting a baby sleep in the car for 3 minutes while they go into a free standing ATM, or walk 10 feet to pick up a pre-schooler (whom the school refuses to let walk the 10 feet to the car without a parent), or for any number of stupid not-child-abuse things.  I think it is entirely plausible that I could have the cops called for ‘abandoning” my child outside a toilet stall in the US.  When I was 7 or 8, I used to consider it a privlege to be left alone in the car with my book instead of having to trudge through grocery shopping.  Of course, I was also a part time latchkey kid at 8.  Both are considered bad parenting (if not outright illegal, depending on the state) now.

On the days when I’m feeling homesick, that’s the sort of thing about which I remind myself…the ways that American parenting can piss me off.

And even having said all of that, and knowing those things…it still kind of weirds me out.

Culture shock–after over 2 years, I’m still not over it.

Filed under: Culture Shock, customs, Shopping, Singapore, With Kids | 4 Comments »

500

Posted on May 19, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

This is my 500th post at Expat Bostonians.

I began the blog on March 8th, 2010; 2 years, 2 months and 9 or 10 days (depending on how you count the time difference) ago.  A blog seemed like the logical way to keep our friends back home apprised of what life here in the Lion City was like.  Before I moved here, the only things I knew (or thought I knew) about Singapore was that some American kid had gotten caned here when I was in high school, and that chewing gum was illegal here.

In honor of my 500th post, I thought I’d share some of my favorite posts in chronological order.

2010–Lots of factual posts (what does the money here look like), not a ton of introspection.  I think I was so busy taking in Singapore that I couldn’t really process it.

Our look see visit to Singapore — This is a favorite post because it’s my baseline.  It contains my first photos and impressions of Singapore.  This is a post I look back at to see how far I’ve come.

Awkward–My first post about hiring a helper.

4th of July, Singaporean Style–Our first big American holiday spent in Singapore, and a favorite memory to this day.  I’ve loved the American 4th of July event both years we’ve been here, and I’m looking forward to our third in a few months.

Palawan Beach–Our first visit there, and contains some of my favorite photos.

Thailand, Part 2–Describes one of the coolest things I’ve done in Southeast Asia-the Siam Safari in Phuket.  A 6 hour adventure that tried to balance eco-tourism with preserving culture, and the struggles that come with it.  I’m a nerd, so learning on vacation=YAY.  Also-BABY ELEPHANTS! Extremely long entry, but one of my all time favorites

Christmas out and about in Singapore–I was totally thrown by stores being open and seeing Christmas treated as just another state sanctioned holiday.

2011-I got to know more people and began to really participate in the blogging community here.  I started writing posts that tried to get to the why instead of the what.  WHY were things the way they were instead of a book report.

Happy (sort of ) New Years–I live tweeted the NYE special with Kirsten and this post shares some of the highlights. Sort of New Years because it was 2011 in Singapore but still 2010 in Boston.

Skin Whitening…it’s a “thing” here–One of the first posts discussing my discomfort with the way whiteness is idealized here.

Having a Maid…the bad and the ugly–Singapore practically expects you to have a maid, but few people talk about the negatives.  This post explored the negatives both from the culture clash perspective and the issues within Singapore itself (the racism and abuses).

What do I do when the power goes out and other questions I forgot to ask–just when you think you’ve figured out expat life, something happens to totally upend your sense of comfort.

Hong Kong-Goldfish Market and Street Markets–On our child-free vacation in Hong Kong, Ravi and I visited the Goldfish Market in Hong Kong and it was another really memorable vacation moment.

Bad Expat (Part 1-ur doin it rong)–In which I explain all the ways I suck at being an expat.

Seth Rogen talks about Singapore–and SG isn’t happy–this was the first time I felt like I could explain and understand both sides of a US/SG critique and conflict of humor.

Things you don’t see/hear in Singapore–After a trip home, I began to realize there are some things I never see or hear in Singapore

Maids, Cultural Expectations and the Importance of Modeling (expat to expat advice)–A post that really talks about the cultural issues (small and big) that come with having a maid.

Pink Dot 2011–I was so proud to be at Pink Dot (an celebration of all love, particularly LGBT love and the only pro-gay event in Singapore) last year, when Google stepped up as the first ever corporate sponsor.

A negative experience at a doctor’s office and maybe some news–It feels strange to put such an angry post on my “favorites/top” list.  However, I think it is well written and it clearly articulates an issue I’ve had repeatedly with older male doctors in Singapore-being condescended to/spoken to as if I were my 3 year old.  As an expat, you have to constantly negotiate cultural issues, and, in general, it is best to learn to bend and to be flexible.  However, it is also okay to have lines that you can not, under any circumstance, cross.  This experience was one of them.

Our second 4th of July in Singapore-Our second, and equally memorable 4th of July in Singapore

My tale of laptop woe grows–I take my laptop to a certified apple repair center, tragic hilarity ensues

Comparing Singaporean and American Pregnancy Guides–After having a baby in the US, I wanted to read a local pregnancy guide to figure out how the approach locally was different.

My first name is not Crystalann–I like the post more because of the really interesting conversation it inspired in the comments section about names and culture.

Validation-The post I wrote after my first fiction short story acceptance

Santa Cruz Boardwalk-A wonderful day with Ellie on vacation.  Ravi was sick, and I was pregnant, so it was one of our last big adventures just her and I before the baby arrived.  I also love the pictures.

Why I didn’t want to be in the US on 9/11-On the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I was in the US and I was reminded of many of the things I don’t like about being an American, and why we have such a bad reputation abroad.

Just WHAT is in those 8 suitcases Part 1 and Part 2 –A photo essay of the kind of nonsense we bring back to Singapore from home.

Prenatal care in the US vs Singapore–Shh, don’t tell anyone, but I might like Singaporean prenatal care better.

Rhiannon Arcadia-I got to announce and post a picture of my newly born 2nd child.  Of course it’s a favorite.

An American Halloween in Singapore–We go trick or treating!

Happy Birthday Elanor–her 3rd birthday post

Slutwalk Singapore 2011–I took the girls to slutwalk because I want to raise them to be strong independent feminists.

Wicked Green Carpet and Gala–I won tickets to the black tie gala premiere of Wicked in Singapore.  My friend Kirsten and I and our lack of social skills went…hilarity ensued.

Oh Christmas Tree—We had a great Christmas Tree, until the cats went on the offensive

Disconnect-Firing B was not a highlight of my blog, but it was one of the most significant events, and for that reason, I need to include it.

2012-I’m really proud that so far in 2012, I got nominated for a Singapore Blog Award, was named a top blog by InterNations and have started contributing professionally at White As Milk.

Irresistible-The book with my short story in it was published (the short story is under a pen name, but if you read the book, you’ll be able to figure it out, trust me)

That does not mean what you think it means–English vs English FAIL

Lessons learned from my negative maid experience–I take ownership of my mistakes in the whole B debacle

What I love about Singapore that has nothing to do with my children–I had to really think about this as all my reflexive answers have to do with my kids.

Where are you from–I share a story about Ravi and wonder aloud how my 3rd culture kids are going to react to their home culture…or if they’ll even consider it their home culture

Stuff I wish I hadn’t brought to Singapore–Things that I’ve found around the house that have me wondering just what I was thinking when I brought them to Singapore

Elanor and the ACA–why health care matters–Elanor’s story (warning–possible triggers as it does graphically describe what happened to Ellie at a week of age, including how close she came to death, and includes a photo from intensive care)

When I was six–What life was like for me in small town MA as a kid in the 80′s

My misconceptions about Expat Life–Boy did I have it wrong on some things.

Ways that living in Singapore have changed me—the shallow edition

Wild Life Sydney Zoo at Darling Harbour–the highlight of our trip to Australia

My bank is trying to Punk Me-another absurd/hilarious tale of customer service hell

Filed under: Acts of Supreme Clumsiness, Asia, Attractions, Australia, Before the Move, Boston, Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, general places, headdesk moments, Helpers, Holidays (Not Singaporean), Hong Kong, Identity, medical, North America, Phuket, politics, Pregnant Expat, San Francisco, Singapore, Sydney, Thailand, Third Culture Kids, Travel, Travel by Continent, Country, Uniquely Singapore, US, With Kids | 4 Comments »

Ways that living in Singapore has changed me…

Posted on April 19, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

I thought tomorrow (the 19th) was our 2 year anniversary here in Singapore, but according to this post, it was today.  Which highlights nicely how quickly time flies, how unreliable memory is, and how crap I am at basic skills like reading a calendar.

Two years ago today, I was wondering around Singapore in a jet lagged haze while Ravi was at work.  I would move our belonging into a serviced apartment (and the very next day into a different serviced apartment after the first was bug infested-fun times!).  I remember  staring stupidly and blurrily at Orchard Road, and having no clue where anything was in relation to anything else.

Today Ravi headed off to work (okay, so his life isn’t all that different than two years ago).  Ellie had crawled into our bed at some point in the night, and I woke up with a three year old snuggled up against me (which is actually something I really enjoy, even if it means I get a grand total of 2 inches or so of bed) and the six month old starting to stir.  We hung out in our apartment (surrounded by our stuff, as opposed to the serviced apartment and a multitude of suitcases full of stuff).  I took Ellie to school, where we met up with my friend Claire.  Claire, Rhi and I drove over to the Titanic Exhibit at the ArtScience Museum–it was my 2nd time and Claire’s first (see my review here–only in Singapore for two more weeks!)  Then we picked Ellie up from school. We chatted with other moms and some of the teachers who had to come coo over Rhiannon.  After parting ways with Claire, Ellie and I picked up some supplies from the grocery store and headed home.  Dinner.  TV.  Bathtime.  Storytime.  Bedtime.

I could go into some long-winded sincere post about how different life is from two years ago.

Instead, I’m going to talk about the shallow ways in which Singapore has changed me.  These are totally off the cuff, and in no way comprehensive or in any sort of order.

Another Day, Another Maserati

Granted, I’ve never been a “car person,” so to speak, but I would stop and stare at the random sports cars I ran into in my previous life.  I’d hear the purr of a sports car engine and my heart would give a small flip of envy.

In Singapore, sports cars (and not just sports cars–Maserati’s, Ferrari’s, etc) are so ubiquitous that I barely even register them.  Or if I do register a sports car, my far more frequent and irritated reaction is “gee, I wish I were important enough to have a car so freaking loud I can hear you drag racing down my street at 1am from the sixth floor!”   Having a car is so expensive in the first place, that if you’re going to own a car, I guess you might as well own a Bentley?

So what grabs my attention in the car department these days?  There are two (or maybe 3) London style taxis; one of them bright pink.  It just makes my day to see one.  I’ve seen maybe 3 Priuses (Priuii?  What’s the plural of Prius?) which makes them stand out, whereas back home they were a super common sight.  Claire and I also once saw a perfectly made up woman riding a vespa with stilettos on (something we were both awed by and admitted we could never replicate ourselves), which was fairly impressive.

But a Maserati?  Meh–see those all the time.

I’m never going to remember which is the wiper blades baton and which is the directional

After driving on both sides of the road for so long, I have no clue what side of the car I’m supposed to get into, and I still occasionally screw up my wiper blades and directional–which has taught Elanor all sorts of colorful words and terms.

I hate closed-toe shoes now

I have always enjoyed a good sandal in the summertime.  But in Boston, at least for half the year if you don’t cover your toes you’re going to lose them to frostbite.  However, in the equatorial heat of Singapore, a closed toed shoe makes your foot feel like it’s dying slowly in a sauna.   Socks and closed toed shoes begin to gather dust as you strap on flip flops and sandals.

On my most recent trip home, even though it was very chilly, my toes felt like they were being held hostage by my sneakers and boots.  Pointy toed heels did me in the night of the Wicked Gala with Kirsten, and she can attest to the fact that on the walk back to the taxi, I had to step out of my shoes or I was going to have to crawl to the cab stand.

Polish, Please

As you might expect, given that I live in flip flops, my toe nails are far more nurtured than they were in the US.  I will grant that the state of my post-partum toes is tragic, but dudes, I had a baby six months ago–I feel lucky I shower most days.  But before the baby, they were kept pretty with regular pedicures (some in nail salons, some self-done).

I am pathetically grateful when I can return something

In the US, I have a hard time thinking of anyone who doesn’t accept returns.  In Singapore, I have the inverse problem.  So I have to be far more careful about purchases, as they are permanent. (Witness my dishwasher FAIL of English vs English)

When I go home, I’ll confess sometimes I buy things just so I can return them for the novelty of it all.

Verified by Visa makes me cringe

I realize it’s a safety measure and I should be grateful that Singapore is trying to keep my identity from being stolen, and blah blah blah…Verified by Visa is a pain in the ass.

For those lucky enough to not know it, Verified by Visa is a process by which whenever you shop online, the purchase isn’t finalized until you enter a pin number sent to your phone.  This makes shopping online, whether for 9 dollar movie tickets or 900 dollar airfare a giant pain in the ass.  Especially if you have a joint card, but have not yet set both of your cellphones up (which meant for a few months, I had to call Ravi for the pin).

I have no clue what people without cellphones do in this situation.  Seriously–does anyone know?  Now that I’ve posed the question, I really really want to know the answer!

What’s a weather report?

The weather in Singapore is so consistent that I don’t ever think about what I might need to wear.  I live in shorts, a tank top, and flip flops.  End of story.  The only thing that affects how I dress the girls is the intensity of the air conditioning at our destination.

This has and will continue to result in a sartorial comedy of errors when I travel outside of Singapore. 

What is this jack-et of which you speak? 

I quite literally can’t seem to wrap my head around “weather” and that it varies in other places.  Witness me trying to pack for our trip to Australia…first I need to convert all the temps into Farenheit, and then I try to remember what they feel like and what sort of clothing that might call far.  Anyone who wants to lay bets on us having to buy one or two things because I screw it up may as well start the pool now.

I’m always going to be able to identify durian blindfolded

Once smelled and tasted, durian is something that sticks with you for life.  A waft of stinky gym socks moldering in a plastic bag for a month will always make me nostalgic for Singapore.

 

 

Filed under: Before the Move, Culture Shock, customs, headdesk moments, Identity, money, Random Stuff, Shopping, Singapore | 13 Comments »

What do I love about SG that has NOTHING to do with my children?

Posted on March 12, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

I met a new friend a few days ago while Ellie was in school.  We had a wonderful conversation, and I look forward to hanging out with her again.  But she asked a question that threw me…”What do you love most about Singapore that has nothing to do with your children?”

I had to stop and really think.

When I’m asked what I love most about Singapore, almost everything that comes to mind are things that relate to my children–the zoo, the water play areas, the education my daughter is getting, the warmth of the country toward children, and so forth.

My immediate reaction was…and this surprised me a bit…the weather.  More to the point, I love wearing shorts and flip flops year round.  I love having the option to swim almost every day (although I will confess it’s been a while since I’ve been in the pool).  I love never having to shovel snow or chip ice off of my windshield.  Yes, I bitch about the humidity and yes, the non-stop heat does wear on me such that I look forward to visiting cooler climates with unreserved glee (Australia in May–18 degrees C sounds delightful…for the week we’ll be there).  Yes, I miss the beauty of a New England Fall and the slight nip to the breeze.  But I don’t miss winter and I don’t miss spring.

You can’t do this in February in Boston

However, we could move to Southern California and get perpetual summer.  So I feel as though I need to dig deeper.  So, here we go…a complete stream of consciousness, in no way organized list of reasons I love Singapore.

1-Learning about a new culture.

Apart from Michael Fay and a few pop culture references, I knew nothing about Singapore before December 2009, when Ravi applied to GNB and they suggested the SG office, as opposed to the London office we were hoping for.  Living in Singapore for almost 2 years has begun an education in what is truly a remarkable country.  No other country has accomplished the move from third world to first in such a short time (and we can debate the pros and cons of how that happened, and I’m happy to, but no one can deny that it is impressive).

Singapore is a mish-mash of cultures, and unlike the US, which is all about integration and submission to the dominant culture, Singapore acknowledges those cultures through public holidays that relate to Muslim and Christian holidays, Indian festivals and Chinese New Year.  I can attend distinct cultural events.

CNY

Thaipusam photo, courtesy of Paul Chapman (flickr stream here, blog here)

When I am confounded by Singapore, I have wonderful friends who help explain and give context.  I am deeply grateful to have Singapore Actually and Kirsten (among others) who are willing to answer and explain things from the mundane to the deeply complex.  Learning about Singapore has enriched me because it makes me re-examine so many assumptions I never realized I had.

2-I appreciate the United States (and Boston) more

We all take what we have for granted far too frequently.  In the US, I took everything from Target to Cape Cod for granted.  I am a Massachusetts native and I have never made it to Cape Cod…because I always assumed I could get around to it eventually.

It is so easy for me to get wrapped up in those things that annoy me about the US, such as the ongoing concerted effort to restrict women’s access to contraception, that I forget those things I love about the US.

Living in Singapore has made me appreciate my rights, especially my right (obligation, really) to criticize my government and to vocally advocate for change.

I also appreciate American “stuff” more.  Getting a package from my mom or in-laws with my favorite brand of BBQ chips (Wachusett Chips-made and only available locally to home) is cause for celebration.  Watching the Daily Show with Ravi is a ritual.  I’m happy that Ellie and Rhi have access to Sesame Street.

3-I’ve become a more serious photographer here

I had been getting more and more into photography after getting a digital camera.  Moving from Singapore turned me from casual vacation (and baby) photographer to amateur photographer.  I have been motivated to take a class and read up on how to make my pictures better, and long after our kids (or we) break or lose whatever souvenirs we leave Singapore with, my photographs will remain my favorite way to look back upon our time here.

Kirsten and I took the girls to Marina Barrage last Friday so that Kirsten could do a photoshoot of them (which turned into E after Rhi decided to sleep through most of it).  While we were there, I took this picture looking back at the city…and I can’t wait to go back there and do some more photography.  I also love shooting in the Botanic Garden, Sentosa, and around the city.

Loving this shot

4-The chance to travel to places I wouldn’t otherwise

I really enjoyed visiting Phuket…but let’s be real; I would never have gone there if we didn’t live regionally.  Australia, sure. Japan, probably.  But much of the region would just not have made my “traveled to” list because it was just too damn far away for places I only want to visit for 3-4 days (when it would take that long to shake off the jet lag).

As the girls age, I’m hoping to do more regional travel, like Angkor Wat, Vietnam, and so forth.  One of the negatives of not having a helper is that I don’t have the support person to do travel with the girls and Ravi only has so much vacation per year (although his allotment is generous, there is a limit).

Big Buddha, Phuket, Thailand

5-The Taxis

By far my most shallow reason for loving Singapore, but no less valid.

For close to two years, taxis were my primary mode of transportation.  I love that they are plentiful (usually).  I love that I can SMS for one, and it will come get me, usually in 5-7 minutes.  I love that they are cheap.  I am deeply amused by taxi uncle wisdom (usually).

Cabs in New York and Boston just aren’t even in the same galaxy as SG cabs and I would have lost my mind trying to get around SG without them.

Thanks, W, for inspiring this post!  Readers, what do you love best about Singapore?

Filed under: Asia, Attractions, cars/driving, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, general places, Holidays, Phuket, Pictures, politics, Random Stuff, Singapore, Thailand, Travel by Continent, Country, Uniquely Singapore | 10 Comments »

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