When Your Shoes Want to Take a Walk

Singapore Skyline

I live in a country I could walk across, end to end, in less than a day. All twenty-two kilometers of it. If I were fitter, I’d probably do the other way across: 44 kilometers.

Living in a tiny young country like Singapore makes me want to step out every so often, take a flight to a place where the beaches are not man-made, where the history is longer than 200 years, where culture is not a mishmash, where the food is cooked with more emphasis on the quality ingredients than the procedure of cooking.

Travel is irreplaceable when you’re looking for a certain buzz of the body and mind, when you want to be relaxed and enriched at the same time.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine

How often does the travel bug bite you? Do you go on yearly breaks, or take a vacation whenever the mood takes you?

After it rains in Singapore

I’ve lived most of life with four seasons, so the first stay in the tropics was a revelation. In the tropics, there is the rain, and the sun—two seasons, in alternative fashion, through the day.

As I write, outside it pours, with the peal of thunders, lightning flashes. It is dark. The sky means business, you’d think. It will rain though the day and in to the night, and maybe the next morning.

Wrong. In a few minutes, the sun will laugh it all away, people would dip into swimming pools and play basketball below my apartment, the trees would gleam, and the only trace that it had ever rained would show for a while on the wet roads. And then that would be gone too.

So when it rains in my heart, no matter what country I’m in, I wait. I know that for now, raindrops pelt the glass and weep their down– the overcast skies pour down their anger, but it Will pass.

In the minutes it has taken for me to write this, the sun is out, bright and shiny, because that is what happens right after it rains in Singapore.

 

 

Writing about other writers, and my first printed story

I recently wrote for a Blogfest by Cruising Altitude, and it was fun to do the rounds of some of the other blogs that took part.

In doing so, it hit me once again just how many aspiring writers there are out there. It can be frightening for some, because there are those many more people you now know you’re competing with.

For me, it is a heartening thing. There are those many crazy people like me, working away and dreaming the impossible despite often painful odds.

Good news is not that easy to come by. One piece of good news I received recently was that my first ever story in actual printed book form is ready in its final, physical avatar. The Love and Lust in Singapore anthology by Monsoon Press is now out, and ready to be read !
Am quite eager to see my copy, which should be on its way to me soon.

Writing about Love and Lust In Singapore

Imagine opening a book and finding your name under one of the stories published in it! I have imagined it the last two years, not with any conviction of it coming true, possibly somewhat like my fantasies of space travel during childhood.

But now, for the second time in a month, I have seen the cover for a book in which one of my stories would find a home. The first time was the cover on this page. Here’s the second one:

Love and Lust in SIngapore, by Monsoon Press

Love and Lust in Singapore is a collection of stories from some of the best known Singaporean writers, as is evident from all their interviews on the Love and Lust in Singapore blog, and their long CVs

I feel quite honoured, because I am such a beginner in comparison to some of the much published authors and poets in the anthology.

My story, though not explicit as indicated by the anthology title, is definitely my favorite of what I have written so far. It has been published before here on QLRS.

The proceeds from the book will all go towards charity, and so this book won’t bring me any money, but definitely a lot of happiness.

Am not really very obsessed with publication, the process of writing is its own reward. But it is always nice to be validated, and there is that sort of childish joy in seeing your name in print….:D

Writing about Singapore, then and now

Well, I’m hardly going to write. Instead I’m going to post two YouTubes, one of Singapore in 1938, and one of the city in the present day. How times change, and how fast a city can change with the times!

Singapore in 1938:

Singapore in the 21st century:

Writing about writing with a view

I have written before about the view from a writer’s window, but that was when I was in Singapore, and the view included the Singapore Harbor Bay, and the tree-filled East Coast Park. The only kind of homes I could see in the distance were tall apartment blocks.

But now, back in Kuala Lumpur, the view has changed. I can see rows of 2-storied town houses, a few 5-storey bungalows with two swimming pools each, roads snaking about far and near, and cars racing along them, like so many shiny beetles when the sun falls on them.

I can see apartment blocks in the distance,but what I most like seeing are the clumps of greenery, in gardens, on the streets, and pieces of tropical jungle that haven’t yet been meddled with, and hopefully never will be

As I sit and write, I have to look up and think, work out some odd crinkle in my head, and I see an old lady doing Tai chi in her garden, a young boy going for a run, and I’m grateful for the morning around me, and grateful for the song of the starlings whose voices reach me so many floors above the ground. And I’m grateful for the breeze that wafts in, teases my hair, wanting to play.

At lunchtime when the sun beats down most days, I hang on to a glass of orange juice, and spoon through a little leftover casserole that melts in the mouth, and try to tell myself I must finish this piece or that one, and send it off.

Afternoons, the sun beats down into my wall-sized glass windows, and I hide, drawing the curtains close.

I like the shadow of play and light on a rainy day, when it might be raining up the hill, but perfectly dry and sunny in my neighborhood. I draw away the curtains and watch.

I love the vibrant orange sunsets, with colors thrown around in happy abandon, as if toddlers had been splashing around in colored water, orange, pink, dusky red, and smearing them on the blue face of the sky. And amid all the color, the sun itself, looking tame and benevolent after the exertions of the day, like a naughty but exhausted little boy.

If a good view from the writing desk made for better writing, I would’ve been a writing goddess by now. But it sure doesn’t hurt, and I write every day in the hope that someday I would finally do justice to this writing desk with a view.

Words written January 6= 800 (misc.)

Writing about Cooking in Malaysia and Singapore

Writing about Cooking in Malaysia and Singapore

Cooking is as much a creative and fulfilling process as writing, and in the past few days, I’ve found cooking the easier of the two:).

I cooked over the weekend, and spent seven straight hours yesterday, cooking for friends, and did not mind it in the least. It can be such a sensory, even sensual act. Your ability to smell, touch, and see count as much, if not more, than your ability to taste. I have written before about how therapeutic it can be.

Cucinare e’ ugualmente creativo e soddisfacente come scrivere, e nei giorni scorsi, ho trovato che  cucinare sia piu facile tra le due cose. Ho cucinato per tutto il fine settimana, e ieri ho passato sette ore  cucinando per gli amici, e questo non mi ha dato nemmeno un po di fastidio. Cucinando tutti i nostri sensi si attivano fino a raggiungere anche una forte sensualita’. La capacita’ di sentire i profumi, di toccare, e di vedere, conta quasi come, se non di piu’, dell’abilita’ di assagiare. Ho gia scritto prima su quanto questo possa essere terapeutico.

In Malaysia, people understand good food, and are willing to go to great lengths to get it. A drive to the other end of town for a particular bowl of noodles is more a norm than an exception. And this fits right in with my gluttonous nature–my GPS has more food destinations saved than anything else.

The year I spent in Singapore was not really such a great cooking phase, because seeing the ubiquitous stick-thin women in mini-skirts killed my appetite for cooking (pun intended).

But now I’m back in the land of people who are forever discussing, ruminating, arguing over what to eat, and I’m happy.

Writing about Evenings and Lights in Singapore

I was rifling through some of my old blogs, sifting through my earlier writing, when I chanced upon this post. At the time I was considering my move from Malaysia to Singapore.

It has been a few months since I have returned after my stay in Singapore, and am back again in Malaysia in familiar surroundings, among friends. I see an older, different “me” in the post and feel amused

Writing about Dusk in Singapore

I think we were staying at The Grand Copthorne or some such hotel, and it was a lonely evening because the husband had some work.

I like watching Singapore light up, little by little, like a shy Oriental bride adorning herself, tremulous, slow, graceful. Night takes its time descending here, but when it does, it does so abruptly, and then the yellow, blue, green lights that had glimmered in the last pale light of dusk are suddenly resplendent. The banks of the tiny river are dotted with lights that fall on the miniscule ripples, little pools of light in a continuous flow of darkness.

I also find this is a city-state fanatic about jogging, young or old, in dry or drizzle. They are there, breathing hard as they pass me while I recline on the cushions.The hotel has tossed a few wooden chairs inside a glass-covered portico on the waterfront, over which the building looms: I can’t see its top when I look up.

I sip at my iced lemon tea, and consider things, try to resolve in my head a knotty project I am struggling with, and find that my brains have become sluggish along with my body. A light breeze breaks out on the river momentarily relieving the tropical, sultry warmth, and I cannot find my last train of thought. I give myself up to watching all these health-concious people whipping past me at a run.

I have swooshed up the lift now, along with a dotty old man who could not figure out how to swipe his card on the lift, and was very relieved when I offered to do it for him.

From my room I can see the traffic jams, all crossings marked by blinking red lights as toy cars glide to a pause. I am afraid of heights, but this view from the room through glass across an entire wall persuades me that living in a highrise apartment may not be such a bad idea after all. In a few months I will be househunting here, and I shall keep that last bit in mind.

Writing about Malaysia and Singapore

Writing about where you stay often becomes your favorite pastime if you are an expatriate. For me, I lived in Malaysia (Kuala lumpur to be precise) for almost two years, then moved to Singapore for an year and a half, and am now back in Kuala lumpur (KL) again. I cannot claim to know either country in depth, but when has that stopped me (or anyone else) from forming opinions and perceptions?

We like to think we know a place and its people if we stay there for a while, because if we admit we don’t, we feel a little disadvantaged…and er…let’s say disoriented. Maybe “dislocated” is the word I am looking for.

Anyhow. Malaysia and Singapore. Singapore and Malaysia. How do they compare? (I know this will end up as a comparison between KL and Singapore, because I have seen the rest of Malaysia only as a tourist would, through predictable weekends at Penang, Ipoh, Cameron, Cherating, Langkawi, and so on.)

Singapore is often compared with other countries, and most often with Malaysia, because Singapore was earlier a part of Malaysia—-we all know about that sort of feeling don’t we?

Well, here goes, Singapore and Malaysia from the eyes of an expat:

• Singapore is fast and efficient. It took me all of three hours to get connections for broadband, television, cell phone and land-line. It took me more than three weeks in KL for all the same things, and I am not sure I am happy with my broadband speed even now.
• Singapore is easy even if you do not own a car. There are trains and buses and taxis going any possible place you might want to go, at any time of night or day. Ok, only the taxis run at night, but you can hail or call them anytime. In KL, if you do not own a car, you are handicapped. The cabs are few. You could chat with a cab driver in Singapore but a cab driver in KL would keep asking “Sini?” (“Here?” in Malay) at every turn, eager to drop you off. I am not sure how many Malaysians take buses and trains to work. Can’t be that many.
• Singapore has an antiseptic sense of cleanliness. The malls are cleaner than some hospitals I have seen. The roads are cleaner than corridors and toilets of some of the world’s hospitals. The toilets? Well, Singaporean toilets are cleaner than some of the world’s living rooms. Malaysians are a little less maniacal about cleanliness, but they can learn a thing or two from Singapore about toilet hygiene. I hope.
• Malaysia is a place of smiles: the girls collecting toll smile, the security personnel smile, the immigration officers smile, it comes naturally to them. Singaporeans smile too, but their smiles look like they have been reading instruction manuals meant for air-hostesses.
• Singaporeans do everything the way their government instructs them, and the government instructs frequently (even on chewing gums). I have seen neat placards near playgrounds saying: Children Must Play Quietly. Malaysians let their children loose anywhere they go, malls, hospitals, churches. Malaysian parents seem to think screaming in public places is every child’s birthright.
• In Malaysia, people drive like the road belongs to them. In Singapore, they mostly drive like the road belongs to everyone else.
• In Singapore, queues are sacred. You will see queues everywhere, at donut shops in shopping malls, at shops distributing freebies, at taxi stands, cemeteries. Everywhere, in short. In Malaysia, queues are not taken seriously. Period.
• Malaysians love their food, and they don’t care where they get it. You can have some of the most delicious food at roadside hawker stalls. You will find BMWs and Ferraris parked beside humble Proton Wiras outside a stall that is famous for Char kway teow or Asam Laksa. In Singapore, the rich go to fancy restaurants, and the rest go to lesser restaurants and food-courts. People meet over food in Malaysia, in Singapore they meet over shopping.
• When you meet people in Malaysia for the first time (naturally at a place where the food is scrumptious), you are likely to be asked, “What would you like to drink?”. In Singapore, the question would be,”What do you do (for a living)?”
• In Malaysia, expatriates (and their spouses) are not given work permits or permanent resident status despite merit. In money-driven Singapore on the other hand, these things are issued based on ability to contribute to the country, not on race or religion. Sigh, poor me, an expat’s wife. The tough-as-nails Singapore government welcomed me to work and stay with open arms, but in Malaysia, alas, the hospitality and friendliness remains a quality only of its people, not its government.
• In Singapore, my husband did not care if I took a cab at 3 am alone. In Malaysia, he worries if I take one alone at 6 pm. There are rapes, murders and robberies in Malaysia, much like in a lot of other countries. In Singapore, the crime news consists of accounts of shoplifters being caned mercilessly. (Ok, I exaggerated on that one, but you get the picture.)
• The most important thing to remember about both countries: Most Malaysians hate Singaporeans and think they are stuck up and kiasu. All Singaporeans hate Malaysians and think they are lazy.

If I really, really ask myself, I like the relentless efficiency of Singapore, but there is nothing really to love or hate, there is great liking and but mostly, there is indifference.

I love Malaysia’s people, its natural beauty, its food. I hate the slowness, and of course, the corruption.

I am not so sure if I should believe that the “opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference”.

But there you go: I have a love-hate thing going on for Malaysia, but for Singapore, it is indifference.

Writing About Not Writing, YET again!!

I have been patiently waiting for the broadband, so I can begin writing my blogs again, but well, I guess I have to start writing them without it.

Seven days since we applied for the phone and the broadband, but still no show.

I guess Malaysia is a country great for vacationing, the pace so slow, the people so smiley and the food so scrumptious.

But to live in, and get things done, er…., Singapore is miles better. There, after 4 hours of applying, I had my mobile phone connection, TV, broadband and land line, all in one go.

But since Malaysia is where I am, I have to put up with all the smiling, the inefficiency, and do some smiling of my own. Just that it will conceal my gnashing teeth.

Hope I have some teeth left by the time I get my broadband.

Thanks to all the absolute sweethearts who have kept the blog stat counter going when I wasn’t around. You know who you are, and I love you all:)