Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

Two years ago today we were off and away. We had brains in our head and shoes on our feet, and arriving in a country where we knew barely anyone we could steer ourselves any direction we chose!

It’s been two years since we became expats.

Two years since we moved lock, stock and barrel (well, apart from a very old dog and a 20 foot storage container) to Singapore.

Fortunately the second year has been smoother than the first.  The peaks are still high but the valleys haven’t been as low as during the second 6 months we were here. That 6 months was hard, as the novelty of living in a new place gave way to frustration and all the other classic culture shock symptoms.

You’ll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you’ll be in a Slump.

I did un-Slump myself (though it’s not easily done) and the past year has been richer and more rewarding.  We’ve travelled a lot, we’ve focussed on our little family and we’re stronger as a result.

It appears the two-year mark prompts the point where people back home ask “So, when are you moving home?”.  Maybe it’s only expats who really understand our answer: we don’t know.  A 3 year contract doesn’t mean much.  It could change tomorrow, next month, next year. We could be here for a few more years or we could wind up somewhere else in the world.

Only time will tell!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done!

Many thanks to Dr Seuss for his wise words.

As we’ve been here almost 2 years there seems to be less and less to blog about.  Things that used to seem strange, unusual or wrong are just normal now.  On a bad day things still irritate me but for the most part life is pretty cruisey (although our less is coming up for renewal and given our initial leasing experiences this feeling could all go to hell quickly).

What I haven’t blogged about as yet is the travel we’ve done and there’s been quite a lot of that.  But there’s lots of bloggers out there detailing their trips so in an effort to put a bit of a spin on a well-worn topic I’m going to report on my travel adventures for a “What I Learnt In xxxxxxx” perspective.

The Husband had to work in Bangkok in the few days preceding Easter so the Missies and I joined him to take in the sights and sounds of Bangkok, and here’s what I learnt:

• Easter is not a thing in Thailand, so The Husband worked on Good Friday.
• March and April are summer in Bangkok, and temperatures in the middle of the day hover around a sweltering 40 degrees (Celsius, for the North Americans!).
• A good tour guide will add to your trip and a bad one will distract you from the sights as you continually consider why the hell you forked out cash just to see photos of their family they handily keep in their handbag.
• The finger painting on the ceiling of the car is not evidence the driver got bored, it’s a blessing from a monk.

• Triple the time you would normally estimate for any travel within Bangkok as the traffic is INSANE.  Bangkok is one big traffic jam during the week. Weekends are better, thankfully.
• If funds and time allow opt for a private tour as this will avoid unscheduled stops at souvenir shops and being herded into particular restaurants that earn your tour guide commissions. We used BKK Tours for a day trip to Kanchanaburi and I can’t recommend them highly enough. A private tour also means you can modify it as the day goes on, particularly important if you’re travelling with kids!
• Don’t buy  $79 linen pants after panicking that none of your clothes are temple suitable. A knee-length skirt and a shirt with  sleeves was fine for Wat Arun, although I believe the Golden Palace is stricter, but they do have loaner clothes available.
• The Kiwis and the Canucks are not mentioned at Hellfire Pass, the JEATH Museum or the Kanchanaburi war cemetery.  This irritated me and seems a really big oversight. Whilst there weren’t as many of their POW’s as the other countries, their soldiers did suffer on the Thai Burma railway just the same.
• War cemetaries like the one at Kanchanaburi and significant war sites like Hellfire Pass will bring me to tears. Such a waste.

• A war cemetery (or any cemetery, for that matter) is not the time or the place to pose like Paris Hilton. Show some respect.
• Always remember to take toilet paper into a public toilet, which is more than likely going to be a squat toilet.
• The Husband’s colleagues tell me that Thai people are still feeding their 6-year-old children. They seemed astounded that by 9 months old both my girls were sitting in a high chair and eating finger food.
• There are 7 poses of Buddha’s and each one is representative of a particular birth day. I guess this is similar to the “Monday’s child is full of grace..” rhyme.
• not all hotels have The Bible in the bedside drawer.

The details: we flew with Thai Airways and we stayed at the Anantara Sathorn.

And there endeth my architectural knowledge.

Marina Bay Sands Intergrated Resort

However, I defy anybody to not be gobsmacked by Marina Bay Sands.  A ship perched upon three 55 storey high skyscrapers is impressive and has been on the Singapore Bucket List since before we arrived.  As I am The World’s Best Wife and “allowed” (tongue is most definitely in my cheek!) my husband to go fishing in Australia for a week over Chinese New Year, meaning I was solo parenting for a 4 day weekend, I treated the Missies and myself to a night at MBS.

The Little Missy in the pool – 55 storeys up!

I forked out extra for a Club Room, which gave us a high floor and included breakfast, afternoon tea and cocktails/canapes.  As we are Singapore residents we also got a few other bits and bobs thrown in as part of their “Staycation package”: faux ice-skating, sampan ride, $50 gift shop voucher.

It was a fun weekend and we got our money’s worth, especially as we all ate so many canapes that dinner was made redundant.  I may or may not (but absolutely did) have eaten ELEVEN lamb loin with mint pea puree canapes.  Given the price of lamb in Singapore this was a very smart move.

Mmmmm…lamb loin with mint pea puree. Come to Mamma!

If I had the chance would I stay there again?

No.  I prefer my hotels smaller and more personal. MBS has over 2000 rooms and the lobby more closely resembles a train station than a hotel lobby.  The MBS crowning glory – the infinity pool on the roof – is pretty cool. It’s also VERY crowded, not deep enough for me, and chilly!  But it was pretty awesome to be swimming up that high.

Ever since we’ve arrived I’ve wanted to have my eyebrows threaded.  I’m not sure why as I have been a confirmed eyebrow plucker since my teens, but it seemed like something I should have done.  And if you’re going to to do it then I figured I may as well get it done in Little India given Serangoon Road is lined with beauty parlours, and for the bargain price of $5 I had nothing to lose but my eyebrows.

I was on my regular fruit & veg run to Tekka Market and summoned up my courage and finally had my eyebrows threaded.

To remove hair via threading the beautician uses a couple of entwined strings that are rolled over the hairs.  The hair gets caught in the threads and is yanked out.

It hurt (and still hurts 10 hours later but that’s more to do with my uber-sensitive skin, I think), but you do get a much more defined brow than you do via plucking or waxing.

Will I do it again?  Unlikely due to the pain (damn sensitive skin) and my need to be in control – it’s all but impossible to control how someone shapes your eyebrows given you have to close your eyes!

The sweet spot.

That’s where we are now.

I know pretty much how things function and things that once seemed insurmountable like grocery shopping are now normal.  To all intents and purposes life is very much like what it was in Australia before we moved.

Just with added humidity.

For those of you who are still in that tumultuous first year I can assure you that life does get better. I promise. Just keep swimming, Dory.

Thaipusam is (according to the font of all wisdom, Wikipedia) a Hindu celebration which is celebrated mainly by Tamil’s. Devotees walk a pilgrimage carrying a burden (kavadi). A kavadi can be as simple as a pot of milk (often held on the head) to the other extreme of self mortification where the devotee is pierced with spears. Devotees undergo an intense preparation that includes fasting and celibacy for weeks leading up the the festival.

Thaipusam is celebrated on the full moon in the month of Thai (according to the Hindu calendar), which fell on a Sunday this year. The Thaipusam walk begins at the Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple in Little India and as anyone who has been in Singapore longer than a month will tell you that the one place you do not go to on a Sunday is Little India, so I had been vacillating about going in the days leading up to the event.  But I knew that I would kick myself for the next year if I didn’t duck down for an hour or two and headed up to Little India at about 9am on Sunday morning.

As soon as I got near to Serangoon Road and could hear the drum beats and the joyous singing and saw a man dancing while bearing an enormous kavadi I knew I’d made the right decision.

Thaipusam lifts my soul in a way that no other religious celebration I’ve witnessed ever has.  Sure, opening presents on Christmas morning lifts my soul but that’s more to do with instant gratification and consumerism than religion.

I know very, very little about Hinduism but the vibe I get from Thaipusam is that is very family oriented and inclusive. Bystanders are not made to feel unwelcome (although I did see a few who I personally felt were too close to the devotees) and at the various free drink and food stations along the way everyone is encouraged to partake, not just the participants.  I don’t think any of the major religions in Australia would be happy for spectators to come into their place of worship with their cameras and their curiosity in the same way the Singaporean Hindu community do.

Last year I moved from one devotee to the next, but this year I stood to the side and watched one gentleman (and his family) ready themselves for the pilgrimage ahead.  It was an honour.  I tried to pay particular attention to the rituals involved and whilst not understanding the language I could tell that these were rituals that had been followed for many, many years.  Here is his journey (which is really only a small portion of it, of course).

The man was lying on the ground, arms extended. A group of men (family, I assume) were crouching over his back and praying/chanting.

When the men stood up I could see that they must have been praying after placing these hooks in the skin of his back.

His family helped him to stand, and I want to stress here that at no time did he appear to be in pain and there was no blood. Not a single drop.

Offering prayers. The dignity of these people blows me away.

A bowl of holy ash. This is dabbed on the site of each piercing.

Piercing his cheeks.  His family/friends crowd around him and chant as this is being done.  I assume this is to help the devotee keep focussed?

Tongue piercing. Not the patch of holy ash on his tongue.

At this point he was giving and receiving a blessing to a lady who I assume is his wife.

The man gives blessings (using the ash) to the members of his group. There were people of all ages involved.

Blessings.

Prayers before he moves off.

Prayers.

Blessings which involved flower petals being showered over him.

One last prayer to the altar of the temple before the party leaves for the 4.5km trak through the hot streets of Singapore.

He leaves the temple pulling his burden, surrounded by his chanting and singing family.

I consider it a massive honour to be able to watch this beautiful, colour filled, joyous celebration.  What my photos can’t capture is the joy that radiates from this event.  the pride that the whole family takes in showing their devotion.  It’s amazing.

Thank you to the Hindu community in Singapore for your inclusiveness and your beauty.

PS: Conicidentally, I photographed this man last year, which you can see in last year’s blog post.

I also did my absolute best to buy “Australian Made” products from the rest of the supermarket and I had a handy dandy book to help me out with this.  There’s always been a big push in Australia to do this, particularly as ownership of many products has now gone overseas.  We can’t help where a corporate owner is based unfortunately, but by buying products made in Australia it helps to keep Australians in jobs and keeps some of the money in the country.  (I was initially pleased and then concerned at the low prices in supermarkets and Kmart/Big W.  The long term damage low prices do to the suppliers and manufacturers is a concern – but that’s not what this post is about).

So, in Australia I would come home from the supermarket with the majority of my stuff originating from Australia.

Now my eco bags are as multicultural as the country in which I live. If I were to only buy “Made in Singapore” products I’d starve to death. Quickly. I believe there is a chicken farm that sells eggs but there is no mass primary production in Singapore that I know of (please leave a comment to correct this if I’m mistaken).

Here’s a selection of my multinational shopping bag this week:

Eggs from Malaysia. Saddens me that “free range” isn’t readily available here.

Feta from Denmark.

Oranges from the US.

Nectarines from South Africa.

Kiwi fruit from New Zealand (of course!)

Strawberries from Korea.

Very ordinary apples from South Africa.

Brinjal (eggplant) from Malaysia

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Home home.

We are back home after having Christmas at home.

Meaning we are back in Hot Home after spending Christmas at More Home. We also drove past Home Home, just to make sure our tenants hadn’t burnt it to the ground.

Or we are back in Singapore after spending Christmas in Australia.  We also drove past the house we used to live in and still own.

Confusing for other people but perfectly understandable to other expats.

When you move out of your country the definition of home expands.  Home is the residence where you live in your new country but home is also your home country.

It’s where my heart is but it’s also where my stuff is.

Our bathroom hoard.

I’ve posted before how shopping has brought me to tears more than once.  And that’s just regular, grocery shopping.  Clothes shopping here when you have a ‘built for comfort’ Western body is pointless and ego damaging.

Anyway, grocery shopping does become easier over time and one of the big tips I give anyone is that if you see a product you like or use regularly then you should buy as much of it as you can!

The vast majority of goods here are imported and arrive by the container load, so while the supermarket is fully loaded today there is no guarantee it will be tomorrow.  And once a product has sold out you have to wait for the next shipment.  That could be tomorrow, next week or several months time.  There was a Vegemite drought last year that caused issues for Australians, and there was much Facebook rejoicing amongst my American friends when a random shipment of Frito’s (Honey Barbecue flavour) flooded every Cold Storage in Singapore.

So, if you see it, grab it! It’s very much “first come, first served” here.

I’ve been told more than once that my life is “glamorous” and it seems people really don’t want to hear the full truth but are content in their belief that my life is a shiny, happy one. Quite frankly, that bugged me but I couldn’t quite articulate my feelings, until last night when I was watching the George Clooney movie “The Descendants” and the opening lines really, really resonated with me.

My friends think that just because we live in Hawaii, we live in paradise. We’re all just out here sipping Mai Tai’s, shaking our hips and catching waves. Are they insane? Do they think we’re immune to life? How can they possibly think our families are less screwed up? Our heartaches, less painful?

I have sipped cocktails. I have travelled more in 18 months than I did in the previous 38 years. I’ve sat by numerous pools and even had a few massages.

But these are just the bookends of my life.

Expat or not, I still referee my kids insane bickering bouts, clean skid marks off the toilet bowl, make the beds, curse every member of my family for their complete inability to change a freaking toilet roll, do the grocery shopping, attempt to keep my children out of the bathroom when I am on the loo, fold the laundry and do all the other bits and pieces that every single person on the planet does to keep their life moving.  Family crises still happen (and there has been the mother of all of crises in my extended family of late), people and pets still die and hearts still break.

It really is “same shit, different country”.

If you’re a prospective expat and are looking forward to the move to escape the “everyday” of your life in your home country, then you’re going to be disappointed.  But if you keep in mind that the “everyday” will travel with you to the new country but still get out and soak in the “newness” of your new destination then you’ll probably do just fine.

If you’re an expat already then I’m certain you know what I’m talking about here.

And if you know me from Australia you should know I am wearing my oldest, most worn out Suzanne Grae shorts with a tank top that has Gravox smeared on the front. Soooo glamorous!