The end of an era

An empty shell, that's all there is left now.

This was Blessed Hope, a place where I spent many hours of my youth. This was a little shop at Coronation Plaza that sells Christian music and literature.

I used to work here during the school holidays during my late-teens. Initially I was roped in during November and December to help out during the months leading up to Christmas. The shop would be really busy and I became good at wrapping presents of all shapes and sizes.

One year, the proprietors asked me if I wanted to work there full-time during the school holidays. Vacation could last up to 3 months at the university and this was the time to top up my bank account. But pay was pretty miserable. Since it was a long time along, I can now reveal that I was paid a mere S$25 a day. I could have earned twice as much had I taken on a data entry job. In those days, data entry jobs were highly coveted; pay was good but one could get cross-eyed at the end of the day.

But the non-ambitious me decided this job was what I wanted. Work started at 10 am, there was no supervisor, there was a direct bus to work and I could invite friends over. I spent my days playing the racks of CDs (customers came in asking for the complete Praise 15 cassette collection), reading the shelves of books (like Stick a Geranium in your Hat and Laugh - about coping with grief) and crocheting little pouches (I stuck in M&S eclairs for my friends). There were interesting - sometimes strange - customers. At least it was an interactive job.

I can't remember exactly who came over to relieve my boredom. The shop was tiny so sometimes, I had to relieve my visitors' boredom by sending them to the supermarket downstairs.

The owners knew I wouldn't stay long. This was definitely not my career of choice. The lady in the picture is Auntie Maureen, who would succeed me and stayed on for the next 10 years or so. At that time, she had just been laid off from her factory job, anyway she was the aunt of one of the owners.

We spent one month together so that I could "show her the ropes". I couldn't see why she was chosen. She had no interest in music and didn't read very much. She wasn't even a Christian. Okay, she was Catholic. Then how do I reject her when she tried to invite me to send my petitions to Mary?

Auntie Maureen is nice. She bought me drinks in the afternoon. She liked to know who was coming to have lunch with me. I was safe if a girl turned up, but I would get probed if it was a boy. How many ways are there to ask about a friendship without mentioning the word "boyfriend"? I was often teased by the owners about my interrogations. But she was really harmless.

Over the years, business at the shop waned. Blame it on the location. Or blame it on the stock. One of the partners wanted to give up a long time ago. It wasn't profitable and was a hassle keeping it going. Business carried on because it was a form of ministry. They wanted to meet fellow Christians' spiritual needs.

29 April was Blessed Hope's last day. I came to witness the hacking and removal of shelves. The smell that was so familiar was gone on that day. There were stacks of magazines in boxes that I thought looked familiar. 1992 said the date. Gosh, those had been hiding under the counter all these years.

CDs are out of date; the internet is the main supplier of music nowadays. Christians apparently aren't reading so much now. Gone were the little cards of encouraging words and scriptures. SMS or Facebook fulfill this function now. The shop was filling up with stationary and knick-knacks.

Ultimately, Blessed Hope was bought out by a bank. I was told the bank, one of the largest in Singapore, sought out the landlords of 3 adjacent shops and offered twice the rental. a neighbour moved across the aisle and 2 others folded.

There goes another piece of memory. I don't really go there much anymore but just felt comfortable seeing it every time I pass by. It was selfish of me to want things unchanged.

Life has to go on.

As for Auntie Maureen, she is going on a long holiday and is choosing between a choice of jobs.

Busy at work

It has been a long time since I blogged. So long that I forgot my password and how to navigate my way around the settings.

In a way, nothing much has happened the last couple of months. Time passed while I watched TV, roamed the streets, run errands and took naps. With such little excitement, my interest to do anything dwindled.

That's me. When I am idle, my days just... idle... away.

As I am writing this, I'm actually crunched for time. I have less than 7 days to finish producing the magazine. Yes, I'm back to my old job and had just taken over an emergency, trying to squeeze 1 month's work in 1 week. 2 weeks later I'm off to Shanghai.

The multi-tasking mode is turned on as the Standby light goes out. Thus I blog.

HG is in Finland this week. It is still snowing even though it's April tomorrow. When it rains, I like to imagine the drops are lighter and whiter. Then the stickiness on my exposed arms and shoulders remind me that this is hot and humid Singapore.

Where is the camera? I've got photos to upload.

Frustrations of renovation

Last Friday, we officially moved back home. It feels great to come back to where we started. For 5 years, this apartment was someone else's home. Finally, we reclaim it as our own again.

Early last year, we decided completely renovate our apartment. We'd thought we would take this chance to give it an overhaul and have it done up the way we want it.

That was the ideal. Reality sometimes sucks.

Boxes waiting to be unpacked

By the time the movers came last Wednesday with our belongings (all 80 boxes of them), renovations were still incomplete. The kitchen wasn't ready, the children's wardrobe hadn't been fully installed and our bookshelves were also left undone.

Storage aside, other fittings like the kitchen countertop was not ready - without which we couldn't use the taps. Simple washing like mugs or hands and even brushing our teeth were done under a shower head.

As of today, we still lack a gate and to make matters worse, the lock on the main door is faulty.

"When are you coming to fix it?" I asked. "We are rushing it," was the answer: a response I've heard many times this past month.

Last month, there was an article in the Straits Times entitled "Dream house, renovation nightmare". Ours isn't exactly a nightmare but it's certainly no sweet dream.

As days go by, we detected more and more defects. Chips in the kitchen, a hole on the wooden laminate floor, scratches on the bathroom doors... There were some gooey patches on the kitchen floor and other parts of the kitchen. When we pointed this out to our designer/contractor, he suggested that we buy some Jif because Jif would clean it silicon binders. What a turnaround in attitude compared to the start of the project when they would take care of everything. A month ago, we'd probably get "don't worry, I'll take care of this" and they would sort the problem out.

Now that 90% of the costs have been paid - we felt we were hunted down by loansharks for the last 30%, perhaps less forthcoming help should be expected.

Today, a couple of men came to install locks on our kitchen windows and change the panelling on the bathroom doors. Not only did I have to clean up the mess they left behind, I noticed they also left hard-to-remove stains on the doors and wash basin.

How long does it take to fit in 5 wooden planks for my shelves? The carpenters take at least 6 days, and counting. The same guys are responsible for changing the hinge on one of the kitchen cabinets. I'm still waiting.

I have 20 more boxes to unload. A OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) seems to be developing as I sweep the floor 5 times a day, each time cleaning up more debris and dust. Frustration continues to build up.

So I wouldn't recommend Cartel Design if you are considering renovation works in Singapore. We chose the company through the reference of a friend. Renovation is a dodgy industry, at least in Singapore, so we had expected delays and shoddy workmanship. Other friends we asked say they would recommend their contractors only to their enemies.

While other aspects of our life seem to be getting on fine, this on-going renovations, especially the dribs and drabs in these last phases, is clouding up my nice outlook.

The patriot

Third week into Primary 1, Estelle still thinks school is fun.

Tomorrow will be her first spelling test. She has never had spelling tests before so when she got the list of words to be tested, she told me those were for a "spelling contest". There is a programme on Singapore TV called Spell Cast, which is basically like the Spelling Bee in the US. She thinks she is like one of the contestants on TV.

She has learnt a favourite song at school. It's called Majulah Singapura, which is our National Anthem. For 2 weeks now, this is the only song she's been humming. Last week, she thought she was learning a Malay song - our national anthem is in the Malay language, not English. Today, she sang it at the top of her voice, much to her parents' amusement. She was a little shy so she closed the door and sang passionately. She didn't realise the walls have ears.

We call her our little patriot.

At Estelle's school, each class has a class blog where the teachers update parents on the topics covered in class or inform us of administrative matters.

In today's entry, her form teacher wrote: "The children sang the national anthem loudly and with pride at the end of the lesson, which I thought was great."

That explains the loud singing we got at home today.

When Jules came home later in the afternoon, she tried to teach him the song and bring him through the procedures during morning assembly, when the children start the day with the singing of the national anthem, the school song and reciting the pledge.

So far, Estelle seems to be fitting in well into the new system. School continues to be a fun experience.

Getting ahead of the pack

After 7 days of formal schooling in Singapore, I'm getting a little worried.

Today, Estelle brought her English language worksheets home. She not only learnt about pronouns (like female = she, male = he) but had completed a cloze passage: this is when she had to read a short story and fill up the blanks with helping words. Looking through the list of new words she will be learning, one of them is 'exasperation'. I am exasperated she is learning this word at Grade 1.

I'm happy to say that she had all the answers right. At this point, she can quite easily cope with the English exercises. Many thanks to her teachers at ICEC who have helped her so much!

So what am I worried about?

Do all 6 or 7 year-olds in Grade 1 already know how to read? If they can't read - and I don't mean simple words like cat or dog but stories - they can't do their English worksheets at all. Pitching the level this high, it is little wonder Singaporean parents send their children to prep schools months before they start Grade 1.

How much flexibility are the school and teachers giving to students who are not up to mark to catch up with the syllabus? I'm furiously resisting tuition. But if Estelle can't cope in time to come, I may have to change my mind. I hope and pray I don't have to.

Since we came back to Singapore 2 months ago, we caught up with old friends and long-lost friends whom we have not seen for a decade (or more). For those with children, when they learnt the school Estelle is going to, their responses range from "Wow, congratulations, that school is really hard to get into" or "Well, good luck!" The school does not achieve glowing results through fun and games.

Our friends ask which school she is in and how we gain entry. For the record, we submitted the necessary forms online and were chosen in a balloting exercise. We learnt that our friends sacrificed to get their children into the school of choice. We heard real-life examples of parents who spent tens of hours "volunteering" to serve the school, some paid premium real estate prices to live near the school, and others paid (one told me he spent S$1,000) to join the school association. The highest "donation" I've heard of was... S$200k.

I am thankful we got things easy. If we were living in Singapore and didn't get in the school, we'd probably blame ourselves for not trying harder. I am grateful we didn't have to think about Plan B. Truly grateful.

In Finland, and in other Scandinavian countries, children are not expected to have learnt to read, count or write when they start Grade 1. Children play all day before 6 years old. Some children are obviously ahead of their peers, but the rest are given ample time and opportunities to catch up.

In Singapore, we pride ourselves as a meritocratic society where the ability and talent gets one ahead of the game. Egalitarian Finland, on the other hand, believes that everyone is equal regardless of economic, social or political status.

The Singaporean system exalts the educated and wealthy; the Finnish society helps the less abled, sometimes at the expense of the better-off.

People living in Singapore are urged to excel in the rat race; the incentives to move ahead are limited in Finland.

Merciless meritocracy vs forgiving egalitarianism.

The complete argument should be multi-faceted and would reveal that each society has its pros and cons.

I wish for my children to shine in their strengths and allowed to grow where there are weaknesses. Where is my perfect world?

A new start

I'm back!

Sweeping aside layers of electronic cobwebs, I realised that only one miserable entry was posted for the month of December.

Here is a brief account of what I accomplished - a word that makes me feel good about how I used the time that has passed me by - in the last one month.

Renovations of our home is almost complete. Almost every morning last month, we visited furniture stores and shops for kitchen equipment, bathroom fittings, lighting, tiles... Sometimes we would meet with our designer to discuss colours and progress of the project.

I'm happy to announce that we are nearing the end of this project. Just in time since the lease of our temporary accommodation expires next week. The movers will come middle of next week and we will move ourselves in by the end of the week.

Next week, we bid farewell to regular housekeeping service, the swimming pool and the convenience of a shopping mall under our feet. We will then say hello to our "new" home and stability as we finally settle into normal life in Singapore.

Estelle started primary school last Monday. I've been meaning to post her progress since Monday but the routine has been pretty tiring.

For the past week, we woke up at 6 am so as to get ready to leave for school before 7 pm. We noticed the kids move in slow motion in the mornings. Nevertheless, time proceeds at its regular speed. Thus one whole hour just to wash up, change and have breakfast.

As for me, what I had been feeling this week is somewhat close to jet lag. My time zone shifted 3 hours ahead since Monday. I much prefer the old schedule of waking up at 9 am.

Estelle seems to be taking to Primary 1 (Grade 1) pretty well... better than we had expected. She has made new friends, found her way around the school and learning new cultures, like singing the national anthem, school song, putting on the school uniform or bowing to greet teachers.

On day 1, Estelle conscientiously finished the bread I packed for her during recess.

By the second day, she bought food herself in the school canteen. She bought a bun and a bottle of Yakult - the latter a treat for herself since it is restricted goods at home.

How much money do you have left? I asked her when I picked her up after school.

Three coins, she replied.

So how much is that, like 10 cents or 20 cents, I queried.

Oh, 30 cents, I think, she said.

On the third day, she bought a bowl of fishball noodles and a bottle of flavoured water.

The noodles cost $1 and the drinks $1,20, she proudly announced.

Where did you get the money from? I asked. Her daily allowance is $1.50.

A teacher had "lent" her money, apparently. I don't know who this good Samaritan is or if she is keeping track of her "loans".

By the fourth day, my little girl lost her purse.

Thus is Chapter 1 of the chronicles of Estelle's adventures at school.

Balls of Old

We planned for breakfast together this morning. Then breakfast became brunch.

Our choices for an in-between meal were wide at Tiong Bahru market. This is our first visit since it was renovated thus it was familiar and strange at the same time.

The old stalls seem to be still around: chicken rice, wanton noodles, roasted pork and duck, zhui kueh... Some others didn't ring a bell but they might have been there before.

HG had zhui kueh, which are rice cakes topped with fried turnips. They were the famous Jian Bo variety.

My food of choice was Teochew fishball noodles. Should I have mee pok (flat yellow noodles) or kway teow mee (flat rice noodles mixed with round yellow noodles)? Decisions, decisions...

This yummy bowl of mee pok ta (dry flat yellow noodles) comes with 3 fishballs and slices of fish cakes, in white and orange. It's been years since I had orange-coloured fish cakes. When I was a child, I used to love a little stall at the Toa Payoh Lor 8 market that sold Teochew noodles. That stall changed hands almost 2 decades ago.

This noodle stall at Tiong Bahru has an unassuming sign. All it says was "Teochew Noodles Dry/Soup". It doesn't have stickers proclaiming endorsements by food programmes or foodie gurus. The ingredients were simple too: no minced pork or liver or dumplings. The noodles were lovely because they were simple.

As I gave my orders to the stall assistant, I noticed that there was a man working at the back. He was making fishballs!

The little fishballs this stall dished out were odd-shaped, unsymmetrical and slightly gray. Not the large, round and white ones that my mother-in-law buys for my children. They had a different sort of bounce as I chewed on them. They were hand-made, that's why. Made by mixing fish meat, flour, salt, sugar and water until they reach the right texture, to be squeezed by hand and scooped up with a Chinese soup spoon. Piece by piece, he made those buckets of fishballs.

When I finished my bowl, I went back to the stall and asked if I could take a picture. They asked where I was from - as if I was a curious tourist. In a way I am, I guess.

Seemed that nobody noticed the man at the back. The man, whose queue I interrupted to take a picture, immediately took out his camera from his pocket when he realised what happened and snapped too.

The man making the fishballs was the boss, I was informed. So he is a "crouching tiger, hidden dragon".

My friend M said how funny it is our emotions are tied to a place. Today, I realised that my memories are tied to the food I eat. Isn't this funny too?

Sinful indulgence

Today marks our 4th day in Singapore. We've had 4 breakfasts, 4 lunches, 5 dinners and 3 suppers. I'm not counting snacks and coffee breaks.

On display here is tonight's supper, char kway teow. For S$4 (or a mere €2), we got a medium-sized portion of yummy and greasy fried noodles. This is from an apparently famous stall at Zion Road hawker centre. In between mouthfuls of moist noodles, I picked out a tablespoonful of lard pieces. Lard - yes, cholesterol-laden porky fat - is the secret ingredient to a delicious serving of char kway teow.

You might notice lots of beansprouts and chives in there. They make up the recommended serving of vegetables, you see.

We've been treating ourselves to tasty hawker fare in Singapore. I have yet to cook this week...

HG took a walk to Zion Road just now to buy supper. We are more excited by the possibility of ready-prepared food at odd hours of the night than the actual ingestion. Nevertheless, my "spare tyre" got a little more plumped compared to last week.

He said this as he scooped a mouthful of kway teow: we should have come back earlier.

Wait til we attend the Primary 1 registration this Saturday. Not sure if he will feel the same way about our education system.

Bracing for change

I just read an interesting article in the New York Times about the increasing influence of Mandarin on the Chinese population in New York.

According to NYT, the first Chinese, who migrated to North America in the first half of the 1900s, can be traced to a region in the Pearl River Delta. Over there, the key languages are Cantonese and Taishanese. (To those who might know the history and geography better, do you think the author is referring to Tangshan?)

Over the turn of this century, Cantonese is increasingly being replaced by Mandarin as NY Chinatown's de-facto Chinese language, said the NYT story. With China rising as an economic power, more Chinese thought that their children would benefit more from learning the "official" language, which is Mandarin. In recent years, more Mandarin-speaking immigrants are arriving in NY and they would, most certainly, want their children to learn Mandarin rather than, say, Cantonese.

In fact, a new "Chinatown" is rising in another part of NY in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and Flushing, Queens. I'm not familiar with NY at all, so I can't tell where the two areas are relative to each other.

As I read this story, I find cold comfort in the similarities faced by Singapore and NY.

G, who used to be a Chinese teacher in Singapore, was lamenting that the teachers Singapore's education ministry imported from the mainland tried to correct the terms used by Singaporean Chinese. They were apparently brought in to "raise the Chinese standard". Singapore, as a society has developed together with our Malay and Indian compatriots, an amalgamation of Chinese dialects as well as the strong influence of English. It shouldn't be surprising that we use Mandarin differently.

I've also read that Geylang is the new Chinatown in Singapore. If one is looking for "authentic" Chinese cuisine - food prepared like it would be done on the mainland - then Geylang is the place to go. Internet cafes, which had mostly died out in the late 1980s except for some gaming centres, are thriving in Geylang. Known affectionately as wangba 网吧 , they are a common sight in many Chinese cities.

For at least a generation now, many Singaporean Chinese are using less and less of their families' dialects. The likelihood that the children of my generation will learn to speak our dialects fluently is, sadly and realistically, not very high. From the academic point of view, we will be overjoyed if they can score As in English and Chinese taught in Mandarin.

The fault is not China's. It's not the immigrants' either.

China is the world's most populous nation. She is gaining strength and her people are easing away from its bursting seams to seek their fortunes elsewhere. For the same reason, we are seeing more and more Indians living overseas.

As we prepare ourselves for the move back to Singapore, I wonder what changes to expect in our home country. Now it seems that my concerns aren't so different from New Yorkers'. Looking at the comments left on this story, Chinese in Seattle, LA and other parts of the world are thinking the same thoughts.

PS I think it was last week when I read a story on NYT about Chinese in NY debating whether traditional or simplified Chinese should be taught in schools.

PPS This summer, a South American classmate D asked if Singapore is a part of China. I explained that Singapore is mid-way between China and Australia. That's how far away the two places are from each other.

Cheap accommodation in Singapore?

In today's Straits Times, there was a report of unauthorised sub-division of housing units at Grangeford Condo in Singapore. 

The proposal is a simple one: each housing unit is divided into more units to increase rental yield. For instance, a 3-bedroom unit may fetch S$3,000 a month. But if the same unit is partitioned into 2 1-bedroom units, or more, and each is then rented at, say, S$1,800, viola! The landlord can now earn more with the same resources.

What has this got to do with me, you might ask.

When we were in Singapore in March, we needed an apartment for the 4 of us. Serviced apartments, like Somerset or Frasers, were out of the question since monthly rates start at S$4000, not including taxes. I also wanted a kitchen to prepare meals for the kids.

As we trawled the internet, we came across advertisements for "cheap apartments in prime locations". A friend shortlisted some for us.

Starting at S$1,500 a month, we could choose from an assortment of 1-bedroom apartments near Orchard Road and Holland Village. Some came with kitchens and/or attached bathrooms. Our friend explained that some condominium estates had gone for en-bloc sales and residents have moved out but they were not torn down and rebuilt due to poor economic prospects. The units were then sub-divided and rented out on a short-term basis. 

We opted for a 1-bedroom apartment at Holland Hill equipped with a kitchen. Each apartment is fully furnished with a sofa set, TV, internet connection and a queen-sized bed. We were told that the washing machine, refrigerator and microwave oven were brand new. At S$1,800 a month, it was a bargain in expensive Singapore.

When we arrived in Singapore, we found that we had checked into a house of horrors. 

Our "apartment" was one of two in the original unit. Upon entering the main door, we shared a common corridor with our "neighbour", a family who essentially lived in another bedroom. The apartment was musty and dirty. It did not have a window, except for a balcony in the bedroom which was kept closed to keep out insects. 

Our bathroom was a tiny toilet and a shower which was recently installed. We asked for cooking utensils since we couldn't be stuffing these into our luggage and the estate management agreed to provide these. Alas, on arrival we got a kitchen without gas nor utensils and cutlery.

Despite dust balls rolling on the floor, the estate management (Ideal Accommodation, the same company managing Grangeford) insisted that the apartment was cleaned. My poor Estelle had horrible insect bites on her legs. I couldn't tell if they were by bed bugs.

After I kicked a huge fuss, the manager agreed to have my unit cleaned. Imagine my surprise when the manager herself turned up in the evening with cleaning equipment! So she and her friend cleaned up the place in under 15 minutes - this was after arriving 1 hour later than we had scheduled.

The estate had a security guard whose working hours were 6 pm to 6 am, but he went home (or to sleep) early on certain nights. I believe only one cleaner was hired for the whole estate, whose responsibilities were to empty the garbage bins every day. The estate, in general, was hardly kept.

After spending many years travelling, I'd hardly had to deal with jet lag. This time, I had trouble sleeping at night and getting up in the mornings. My family could hardly believe the hell hole we got ourselves into. 

Three weeks later, I was just glad to get our S$1,000 deposit back. The manager glanced around the room and that was the end of the "inspection". I guess the apartment was deemed clean and ready for the next tenant.

When my friends in Finland asked, "How was your trip to Singapore?" I could not bring myself to say it was great. We enjoyed catching up with our friends and family but Holland Hill cast a long and dark shadow over us.

I had a draft of this experience in April but it was deleted afterwards. I'd thought I leave the past behind instead of shaming the housing company, which I had every intention of doing during those sleepless nights. Three months on, I can put aside emotions to report and comment on a current issue.

A resident living in Chinatown wrote to the Straits Times that his block had many apartments converted into multiple units or dormitories. The lifts break down often, bringing inconvenience and possible danger in case of emergencies or fires. Overcrowding poses a clear and present danger should Singapore have a pandemic, like the H1N1 flu. 

Although S$1,800 a month is not a small sum for a 1-bedroom apartment, it was the most viable option for us. We weren't hoping for a luxurious temporary home, just somewhere neat and clean where we could rest. 

We wouldn't try this sub-divided apartments again, if this arrangement is still available. The police is coming down hard after complaints from the public. 

Where, then, can we stay next time we go to Singapore? Room rates are too high, sometimes even higher than parts of Europe.  We had considered going for a one-week holiday in Thailand because the costs, including airfare, came up to around the same if we stayed in Singapore. 

What options are there for reasonably-priced short-term accommodation in Singapore?

Me and my faith

I am inspired to log in this entry after reading some news and blogs on the goings-on of the Aware saga.

I'm not going to say who is right or who is wrong because I don't know. None of the materials paint the whole picture and many writers have already made up their minds about the mechanics of the affair. At this point, it seems that the issue has become a Christianity versus LGBT tussle.

Whenever there is any mention of Aware, the inevitable joke is whether to enrol our men in Amare. Who knows this NGO could whip up such a storm.

Would there be any response from the general public if the new ex-co is made up of LGBT? If Christians react, we are labelled as bigoted fundamentalists. If we keep mum, it shows we condone/accept their lifestyle. Damned if we do, damned if we don't.

The Straits Times asked in a headline, "Will new ex-co impose personal beliefs?" What kind of question is this? Everyone has beliefs. If one joins an organisation which runs counter to his/her belief, this person would 1. protest, 2. leave, or 3. do nothing because it doesn't matter anyway. If options (1) or (2) are taken, this person is named a trouble-maker. 

I remember catching the Singapore debut of Broadway show Rent many years ago. I'd looked forward to it after reading the excellent critiques and listening to one of its hit songs, the one that goes "525 600 minutes..."

DBS had withdrawn its sponsorship due to the show's thorny issues (HIV, drugs, etc) just a week before opening night. Perhaps the troupe wanted to prove their point, their performance wasn't just good technically, their passion and vigour shone through.

However, I finished the show feeling somewhat disgruntled. 

The HIV+ guy, drug addict and bohemian dancer discovered the meaning of life. The normal guy - the one who has a regular job and doesn't dabble in drugs or other unsavoury practices - was still lost, hanging in the air.

The performance ended to a standing ovation. I walked away wondering what's wrong with living life "normally". Does one have to live an alternate lifestyle to truly find oneself?

Outside of my Christian circle, I seldom refer to my "religious beliefs". In my work, I'm a professional journalist; in my home, I'm a loving and responsible mom; socially, I'm a forthcoming and helpful friend. I am not ashamed to tell people I'm Christian, however, I'd like them to like me, the qualities I possess and the values I hold close to my heart. I would like people to ask why I am what I am and hopefully, they will be impressed that Jesus is my God.

I had engaged in long conversations with friends about Christianity, about God. Many times, these talks turned combative, especially when my friend(s) posed questions like "Can God create a rock so big it will kill himself?" By then, I would be terribly frustrated, angry and emotional. I was fed up with my friend and myself because the conversation wasn't constructive, it wasn't leading anywhere and I couldn't express myself adequately to reach a conclusion that satisfied both parties.

Then again, even CS Lewis had to think really long and deep to find answers to such questions.

Age has caught up with me. I have mellowed. Thus a change in strategy (is this an appropriate description?) to share my faith.

Meanwhile, I think it is important for Christians to make friends from all walks of life. Some Christians are really naive about the real world. Did the new AWARE people consider the recoil when they took on the "old guard"? The leaked e-mails leads me to think otherwise.

There is a Chinese saying, "Know yourself and the enemy, and you will win a hundred battles out of hundred." From Sun Tzi, no?

All about food

During the last 3 weeks in Singapore, I didn't have to cook. Rather, I couldn't. 

I chose an apartment with an attached kitchen because the management promised to provide us with pots and pans, as well as gas. Upon arrival, we were told that there was "miscommunication" about the cost and installation of the gas cylinder and the manager could not find pots or pans. Whatever...

Food is everywhere in Singapore. The range and availability of food rank top on the list of things we miss of our homeland. We ate at our parents' homes, hawker centres or restaurants.

If we were hungry at 11 pm, HG would walk down to the Commonwealth market to buy fried beehoon. Cheap, yummy and frankly, too much just before bed.

The night before we leave for Finland, our kids stayed with my parents. So we spent some quality time at Holland V. Supper was sambal stingray, sambal sotong (squid) and fried rice at the coffeeshop. More ticks for our to-eat list. Very tasty and not at a king's ransom - we spent around S$30, including drinks.

Now in Finland, I am happy to have my kitchen back. HG invited a colleague, a Finn now living in Singapore, home for dinner yesterday. I cooked lor bak 鲁肉, a Chinese cabbage dish and baked chicken wings from the supermarket. My kids enjoy stews because the meat is tender and the dish has lots of other ingredients like mushrooms, beancurd and egg.

Living away from Singapore, the internet is an excellent resource for home-cooked food. I discovered so many food blogs. Most are amateurs who love cooking or baking, or moms who, like me, seek out new recipes to keep their families interested in food. The food they cook and their blogs are products of their love.

I discovered love and nostalgia overflowing in Nice Recipes blog. 

The blogger dedicates the blog to her grandmother's cherished cookbook. Besides sharing recipes with readers, she explains the background of each recipe and/or ingredient. Each entry is like a history lesson, a glimpse at what went into mouths in ages past. 

If you are thinking of trying out any of the recipes, cut/paste functions would not work here. This blogger scans the recipe direct from her grandmother's cookbook. To copy the recipe, you have to:

1)  decipher the handwriting

2)  write down/type the recipe

3)  interpret the ingredient list and instructions

4)  apply the recipe.

You see, the cookbook was compiled by hand starting in the 1950s. Nice's recipes remind me of old cookbooks I referred to circa 1980s and earlier. Some units of measurements have changed, some abbreviations are hardly used now, and new equipment and shortcuts have since been invented. 

I've heard that many established cooks, whether professional chefs or cooks confined to their humble kitchens, seldom pass down their recipes. No two persons cook the same way. Certain ingredients they add or technique or extra step would make their food stand out from the ordinary. Their secrets leave with them, so it is said.

Thanks to Niceties, we can still taste bits of the past. Even if you don't cook, you will appreciate her labour of love.

PS Reading this entry again, it occurred to me that perhaps Niceties is not female. I had started by adding "his/" before every mention to "her". I apologise if it's actually Mr Niceties.

Tale of two cities

Blogging activity was suspended for about two weeks because I am now in Singapore.

We arrived two weeks ago and are living in a en-bloc development that has been put on hold. The developer re-organises the units and rents them out on a short-term basis. In this way, the company can still bring in income while it awaits better times to build the new condo.

Our first week was spent on organising "home", cleaning up the rooms and establishing a regular routine with the kids. By the time we had settled down, we got ready for my brother's wedding last Wednesday. On Thursday and Friday, I brought the kids to Vivo City and Ikea at Alexandra to enjoy the children's facilities. 

Perhaps we have been away for a long time - nine months this time, and a total of three years since we left for our first posting - Singapore feels different.

I noticed more foreigners and maybe we lived in China for two years, we can spot them rather easily. Many food stalls have Chinese helpers. Even the cleaners at church are partly staffed by Chinese.

We took the kids on a cable car ride, starting at Cable Car Tower (now called HarbourFront Tower 2), passing Mt Faber, then Sentosa and back. Seems that several workers at the Mt Faber point are Indians.

Angmohs are no longer confined to the city area. They look like they fit in the heartlands in T-shirts, bermudas and flip-flops. Very Singaporean, except for skin colour.

Singapore has become an international city. People are drawn to this little island near the equator by its clean environment, keen education system, safe food supply, among other things.

Helsinki and the surrounding capital region has also seen a rise in its foreign population. My family and I contribute to the statistics. As I sense a change in the demographic make-up of Singapore, I am part of the same change in Finland.

 

Taking the driver's seat

All this while, Mr Toh has been driving me. I can now drive Mr Toh.

I passed my driving test in Finland last month and picked up my official licence today.

The journey to the attainment of  my driving licence has been long and sometimes, treacherous. 

It started when I was 18. I gave up after I failed the basic theory test and ran out of money.

Then I met a smart woman who refused to learn to drive so that her husband can't say: "Go, take the car and kids out to the supermarket." When I met HG, I'd thought this was a really great way to engage him in family life. 

My scheme worked. It worked well : D

We bought our first car as we planned to start a family. During my pregnancy(ies), he sent me to/from work, went shopping together, went on outings together, fetched the kids together... you get the idea. Because he was the only one who could drive.

With two kids in tow, moving around without a car is definitely inconvenient. Thank God for the kindness and graciousness of friends who went out of their way to ferry and spend time with us.

Now Finland is not a little island city like Singapore. Public transport does not cover all parts of the country. The nearest bus-stop from our home is 10-minute walk away. Consider this:

Distance = length of legs x number of paces

If the distance stays constant, our two little kiddos need to take many more steps to arrive at our destination. Three of us can take twice as long.

The journey to school/day care centre takes 1 hour by bus (walk-bus-bus-walk) or 10-15 minutes by car. After dropping them off at school, I take as long to come back home. So that's effectively 4 hours on the road. Being able to drive, particularly when HG is out-stationed, is imperative.

I took lessons at Bukit Batok Driving School last year. As I had only 6 months, I had to write letters to the Traffic Police so that I could jump the queue and book early test dates. Ironically, I found out I could accelerate the process from an old friend from JC who had his driving licence suspended because of drunk driving. 

Sadly, I failed my practical test. I was doomed to fail, it seemed, even before the test began.

I was allocated the first slot of the day and had to reach the driving school for a warm-up session at 7.30 am. Since HG was not in Singapore at that time, I had to leave the kids with my parents the night before. Estelle had been running one of her high fevers for a few days so I was feeling very unsettled not taking care of her myself. I didn't call her that morning because she might not have woken up yet.

During the test, I mounted a curb on the obstacle course. As I was driving on the road, my mobile phone rang, and rang, and rang. Three times the phone sang and my mind completely blanked out. At that time of the day, it was probably one of my parents calling about Estelle. True enough, it was my dad calling that Estelle's temperature was very high.

When I walked out of the school, I was still in a daze. It didn't cross my mind to appeal for a re-test or for another date before I leave Singapore. Estelle turned out to be better than the day before and she was playing when I saw her after the test.

Therefore, I arrived in Finland with this issue hanging on the line. Should I pursue a driving licence here or should I wait until I go back to Singapore?

The driving authority in Finland are open-minded yet are careful to ensure they put safe drivers on the road. Ajovarma actually went through all my driving manuals from Singapore before deciding that I should take a theory test and a couple of lessons on night driving and slippery surfaces, after which I could take the practical test.

Driving on slippery surfaces was an amazing experience. Roads on the driving circuit are oiled and I had to drive straight or curved and at different speeds to learn how the car would behave. The car slipped, swung and swerved. I learnt to brake and hold the wheel. Very importantly, I learnt what to expect and how to react if I should slip on ice. 

Deja vu. Did you know our car spun in early December and crashed against a lamp post?

From now on, I'll be driving Mr Toh and the family. For starters, I know how to drive to and from school and Iso Omena*. Driving in winter still makes me jittery but I expect to drive more come spring/summer. 

* Iso Omena is a large shopping centre near the children's school. It has a Singapore link - Capitaland has a 40% stake in it.

When I failed my test in Singapore, I knew there has to be other lessons I need to learn. Comforting myself this way seems self-deprecating and making God a scapegoat. When Christians hit a rough patch, they like to say "God has other plans, God is putting me through a test," etc.

When I told my story to friends after I failed the test, it seemed like a lame excuse. Why didn't I admit I was a poor driver? But I wasn't a bad driver. I believed there was more I had to do as much as I believed that Jesus is God. 

This experience has taught me patience, perseverance and putting down my pride. I learnt that it's ok to doubt and to hold on to faith when I don't fully understand my circumstances or my thoughts. I also had the chance to learn more about Finland, how this country works and what wonderful people it has. 

It's not too late to learn a new skill. I'm happy to be in my mid-thirties and a new driver.