The Tyranny Of Distance

So Alec arrived on Friday, and this is how we spent the weekend.

Friday: Dinner and drinks at the beach (Peperoni, then Beach Hut).

Saturday: Hainanese chicken rice for lunch, siesta, meandering frivolously through Far East Plaza, quick dinner in the fabulous Plaza Singapura food court before watching The Sea Inside.

Sunday: Wakeboarding (attempts) at Punggol, curry lunch at the Banana Leaf place on Ceylon Road, siesta, Mass, Eurasian dinner at Casa Bom Vento, Tiger Cup support (YAY!) over beer/stout/pork scratchings.

Perhaps you wonder – after a year and a half of long distance, they’re finally reunited for the foreseeable future, and that’s how they spend their first weekend together again? Sounds pretty much like how any couple in Singapore would spend any weekend, doesn’t it? Where be the lavish celebrations?

The thing is, the best thing about this weekend was precisely its total normality. The most unnatural thing about long distance relationships – where time differences, telecommunications costs, and fleeting holidays rigidly define your time together – is how difficult it can become sometimes to just enjoy the moment without feeling the pressure to make the most of it.

Normal couples enjoy luxuries, perhaps without even realizing it, that we haven’t really had for one and a half years. Wasting an afternoon away napping. Good night kisses. Being able to do things which are totally devoid of local cultural merit, instead of feeling guilty that Alec’s spending holiday time in the exotic Orient watching a European arthouse film in an air-conditioned mall cinema. Making whatever stupid remark we think of at the time we think of it rather than having to try and remember it for later. After a while of this I’m sure we’ll start missing our trendy London Shoreditch twatness again, but for now we’re just happy being heartlanders together in Katong. (Don’t worry, I won’t lose my edge. To prove it the title of this post is yet another indiegeeky music reference.)

And going back to stupid remarks, here are Alec and Michelle Reunited’s hard-hitting views on the profound issues encountered in our first weekend back together.

On Modesty
Me: I’m a bit doubtful about this bikini, what if it shifts when I fall in and I don’t realize it’s given way?
Alec: You’ll realize pretty soon.

On Acronyms
(Alec is considering volunteering at Riding For The Disabled)
Alec: What’s the web address again? RCA dot com dot sg?
Me: Um, I think that would be RDA. Given that it is called Riding for the Disabled and not Riding for the Cisabled.

On Fiscal Discipline
Me: Okay, so apart from wakeboarding tomorrow and swing camp in February, we’ll have a frugal lifestyle with no other extravagances. Right?
Alec: Except if something really good comes up.
Me: Exactly.

Stashing Pumpkins

Number two in an occasional series of stunning witticisms I make in conversation which I feel the need to share with the world. This is from last night at Hideout with Dom, Ida and David.

Ida: Remember that pumpkin I stole from ____ bar around Halloween? Well, we went to _____ bar after that and the bartender stole it from me.
Me: You were brandishing the pumpkin while ordering a drink?
Ida: I put it on the counter. So anyway, now every time I go back there he keeps saying, “I’ve got your pumpkin” and flirting with me.
Me: I guess you’re his jack-off-lantern.

I kill myself sometimes.

Marrrrrritime Law

One of the other lawyers was teaching me how to research a ship.

Lawyer X: Okay, so if you can’t find it in Lloyd’s Register or the online sources, that probably means it’s –
Me: PIRATES!
Lawyer X, looking at me strangely: – not a vessel involved in international trade.
Me: Ah, yes.

I think I need to curb my enthusiasm a bit more.

Backs Up Backs Up Back Off The Wall

During previous exam study periods, my walls have been adorned with post-its bearing various motivational messages such as “A 2-1 IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH”, “YOU CAN’T WRITE ESSAYS ABOUT ____________ (whatever book I was absorbed in at the time) CAN YOU??” and “STOP PLAYING DOPE WARS”. They worked.

This time I wanted to quote Dizzee from Stand Up Tall, but then realized that my mum wouldn’t take too well to “Can’t run the marathon without training or stretch the arsehole without straining” whenever she comes to my laptop for her Solitaire fix.The poor woman already takes issue with the photos I paste on my desk wall (of my life in England):

My mum: From these photos it would look as if you’ve had strings of boyfriends!
Me: Mum, two of the men with me in those pictures are priests, and another one is the preserved corpse of Jeremy Bentham.¹
My mum: That’s even worse!

¹ Upon graduation, I thought it was only polite to pose for a picture with the subject of my dissertation. (Jeremy Bentham, not his corpse.)

My Naked Pussy

The scene: Casey running madly back and forth between the kitchen and the backyard.

My mum: What a streaker! Our cat is such a streaker!
Me: Er, mum, a streaker is someone who runs around naked.
My mum: Yes, I know. Doesn’t she run around naked?
Me: ……

New-Age Sensitive Man

We were trying to figure out what the movie on TV was.

“That’s Denise Richards,” Alec declared with an air of certainty.

“Ew, she looks bad. Was this, like, before she became famous or something?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “I can’t say for sure until I’ve seen her cleavage.”

* * *

Monsoon skies opened during our drunken chicken noodle lunch on Jalan Alor, which confirmed that a mall was the easiest place in the vicinity to spend the rest of the afternoon.

After two hours of wandering around after me, Alec was getting silent and morose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” I said, “Are you getting bored of shopping?”

“No,” he said, furrowing his brow, “I’m just really disappointed. The stuff on these floors just isn’t anywhere as good as the stuff you were buying yesterday.”

Representative Democracy In Singapore

Two or three weeks ago, I explored Potong Pasir for the hell of it, with some of the very few people I know here who would do things like go exploring Potong Pasir for the hell of it. It was a fabulous day, and I’ve been meaning to do a writeup with photos for ages. (Coming soonish.)

When the usual “So, what have you been up to lately?” question gets asked in conversations, I’ve been telling other people about Potong Pasir Day. This is how the conversation goes in the vast majority of cases:

Me: Well, a couple of friends and me went exploring Potong Pasir one Sunday afternoon and had a fantastic time.
X, looking absolutely perplexed: Oh…okay…why?
Me: We wanted to see what an opposition constituency was like.
X, still looking confused: Oh…you mean Potong Pasir is an opposition constituency?

[There are only 2 constituencies in the whole of Singapore which are not in the hands of the ruling party. Potong Pasir has been an opposition constituency with opposition politician Mr Chiam See Tong as its MP for at least the past 15 years, if not longer. Chiam See Tong is Singapore’s most prominent, respected and successful opposition politician. All these facts are given ample press coverage at election time.]

Now, let’s continue with the conversation. With about a quarter of the people I have talked to, the second half of the conversation goes like this: (Please note that the people I talk to all have university degrees)

Me: Er, yes. Chiam See Tong is its MP.
X: Oh…you mean Chiam See Tong is an opposition MP?
Me: (speechless)

Say What?

Two snippets of Singapore from today.

#1: I Donno Where Is This Democracy

Me, getting into taxi: Hello, Parliament House please.
Taxi driver: Where?
Me: Parliament. Parliament House.
Taxi driver: Near where?
Me, perturbed: City Hall.
Taxi driver: Oh, so take ECP¹ then Rochor Road?
Me: Yes.
Taxi driver: After that you direct me hor. I donno where is this Parliament House.

* * *

#2: Racism 20% Off

Young friendly male sales assistant in a earring shop in Bugis Village: This one you like or not?
Me: Mmmm, not sure. Maybe something a bit longer.
Sales assistant: You dare to wear like ke ling kia or not?
Me: What?
Sales assistant, waving a long dangly earring: This one, like ke ling wear one.
Me, finally understanding what he was saying²: No, it’s okay. Thanks.

¹ An acronym for one of our expressways
² Ke ling is a derogatory word for Indian

Nabeya!

I thought Tamade was a one-off occurrence of a Japanese restaurant here with a name which is a swear word in another language (Mandarin), but today my family had dinner at Nabeya.¹ It appeared that I was either the only one who knew which swear word it sounded like, or the only one puerile enough to be secretly amused by it.

Sample conversation in the run-up to dinner, and I am so not kidding:
My mum: So, where are we going for dinner?
My sister: Nabeya.
My mum: Nabeya?! No, I don’t feel like it. Let’s go somewhere else.
My sister: But I only feel like Nabeya.
Me: Yah, mum, why not? Nothing wrong with Nabeya what.
My mum: Okay, fine then. Nabeya.

¹ Tips as to meaning can be found here and here.

Mother Of All Guilt Trips

Michelle: Okay, so I’m going out for dinner, and probably to a club after that. It’s my friend’s birthday, so I guess I’ll be back pretty late.
Mum: Do you know, I watched that Missing show on TV yesterday, and it was about this girl your age who left home for work one day and never came back!
Michelle: What do you want me to do, never go out?
Mum: I’m just saying, if anything ever happens to you, I will curl up and die.
Michelle: You have two other children lah.
Mum: Did I ever tell you about my friend? She had three daughters. Then one of them died. Then another one got some intestinal problem and died. A year later, my friend found a lump in her breast. But because she had no will to live on, she refused to do anything about it, and she died too.
Michelle, throwing hands in air: STOP IT MUM!!