Saying Goodbye to Singapore for a month

Dear Readers,

Everyone I know is getting ready to exit the island. All non-residents return home to spend Christmas for good old cold weather, snow, ice, and pudding. Of all the times I want to be home, Christmas and the cold is not one of them. I'd rather stay and keep up my tan. But alas I have been given another economy ticket to sit for 36 hours while Steve enjoys business class out front. You see, Invista is cheap. But I can't complain. We have a job. Things are hard in the Shenandoah Valley. If they finish closing the plant, then we will have to move anyway.

Out in the jungle amidst the mosquitoes and tree vipers is a cooking school. It is located on Dempsey Hill in an old army barracks of the British. The government sold the crumbling buildings to the public and they became restaurants, playschools, and dancing schools. I signed up for a day of "Christmas Cooking." It was more like Thanksgiving. The teacher was british and so were most of the other people. Two were Muslim maids sent by their employer. Unfortunately they couldn't touch the turkey which were stuffed with pork sausage. There were plenty of roasted potatoes, parsnips, and brussel sprouts for all, though, and I was surprised how many people hate brussel sprouts. My favorite thing was the ice cream cake. I will have to try that! We did three turkeys three different ways! Chestnuts were everywhere.

I returned to Dempsey Hill to catch a bus for the "holiday tour" that hauled us around to see four decorated houses in the area. The first house was owned by a French designer. Everything was brown, black, and white. No windows-just open to the air. I guess she doesn't know about the mosquitoes, dengue fever, and malaria. Several of the ladies had fresh bites on their backs. The only Christmas decorating I saw was the lame wire sticking out of a bucket twisted in the form of a branch. Glass things hung on it. I guess I am not hip. The next house was an apartment on an historic street. Small, strangly cut up, and again the only decorations I saw where three ornaments on top of a table. No tree, no red and green. Someone should have told the committee that Buddhists don't celebrate Christmas. Next we went to White and Black House. These are the houses saved by the government and were the orignally houses of the British elite. Now they were cool! Pools, marble floors, Christmas trees with angels and color, airplane wing desk (really, a airplane wing!) and lots of greenery and wreaths. The final house was a mansion with great paintings-both abstract and traditional. Statues of Buddha were everywhere as well as Christmas decorations. One room was a Buddhist shrine. So I don't know what that was all about-the family seemed a bit confused on where they stand. The maid was highly thanked for all her hard work setting it all up for the tour. You see, these people only supervise the work. They don't actually DO IT.

Well no maid is going to do my Christmas decorating. In fact, I'm not sure I'll get around to it during the short time I am home. No sooner does it go up then I have to pack it up and leave for the land of hot sun. Well, all this touring has allowed me to meet new people, a New Zealander named Donna, and others and eat more shrimp with eyes. Tomorrow, it's retail therapy where I travel around with the same people looking at textiles, furniture, and other stuff. Saturday I ride a bus to see all the Christmas lights on the island. Never a dull moment.

Pictures I have tacked on are Christmas lights, Steve and I having Thanksgiving with our friends Tammy and Greg, and me eating snails at a German restaurant. Luckily the eyes were missing.

See you at home! Donna.

Thanksgiving in Singapore

Dear Readers,



There is no Thanksgiving in Singapore. what do you think this is, America? The American Association offers a picnic at a hot and mosquito ridden park with all the beer you can drink. I just said no. Been there and I have the bites to prove it. No, this year I opted for the set meal at Dan Ryan's Chicago Grill that includes turkey, mashed taters, stuffing, and cranberry something, plus pumkin pie. Sure I could have cooked all that myself but when in Singapore, it's cheaper to eat out. A turkey runs you forty dollars here. Besides, I won't have to do the dishes.



It rains here almost every day now but just short showers. The plants here are wilting. The heat is intense. All the while the Christmas lights are up and "Let in Snow" plays in the mall. Tammy and I have been keeping score on the most cheesy decorations and the mall that won had a bunny, Alice in Wonderland girl, fairies, mushrooms, and butterflies. They really don't get Christmas here. They should develop their own traditions with an Asian slant. Maybe something with palm trees, lizards, sheets of white rain, and durian pudding (stinky fruit). Santa Claus could be a Asian grandpa giving out rice porridge. No where do any of these present decoration portray the birth of Christ. That would be against the law.



Speaking of different religions, I went with the American Association to see the famed tooth of Buddha. Yes, did you know they cut his body up into 18,000 parts and distributed them around the world to do miraclous things. This temple was six floors. On top they had a garden that grew the Buddha Tooth orchid developed for the temple. Very nice. They also had a prayer wheel that was about eight tall. you pushed it clockwise around once and it was to send a sutra chant to heaven. The fourth floor was where the tooth was. You had to take off your shoes to go there. The tooth is enclosed in a stupa of 413 poiunds of gold (people donated their old jewerly for a melt down). True, it didn't really look like a tooth. Could have been anything really but it's the symbol of the tooth that counts. People come here to be cured by the tooth. I had a rash. It went away. I guess it worked! ha!

Anyway, a buddhist monk sat there to bless people for a fee if they wanted. They would be allowed to actually pray in front of the tooth.



The third floor was a museum that recounted the life of Buddha and how the temple came to be. It is a new temple, only two years old. It came about through a vision of a monk from Cambodia who was in charge of the tooth. He was getting old and met this really intelligent monk who he instructed to build a temple in Singapore. The guy had to go to go to the prime minister and get some land and then build the temple for billions of dollars. It's a modern temple with an elevator and bathrooms and even a kitchen to feed the poor. But it's made to look old and beautiful. Gold is everywhere. It is dedicated to the future buddha. They are waiting for him to come. I was struck by how Buddha's mother was supposedly childless and a white elephant visited her dreams. Then she was pregnant. We compared that to Mary, mother of Jesus. They predict the next Buddha will arrive during a time of extreme chaos (end times). There is nothing more interesting than hearing these monks chanting in the nice golden room with a microphone watched by the 10,000 buddhas on the walls. It will raise the hair on the back of your neck. Everyone is reading the Chinese sutra and repeating OM OM with them. Except that old man on the last row. He's sound asleep.



Did you know that once a monk has risen to a most high level and dies, his ashes turn to crystal? Each of those 10,000 Buddhas has a monk's crystals in its head. Creepy. Then there is the display of Buddha's tongue, intestine, brain all in crystal form in the museum. They love this stuff. Some of the group was Buddhist but they rest were shaking their head and saying it was a bunch of crap. Maybe so. But I found the similarity of Christ's coming and the future Buddha really interesting. And you already knew that the end times for Islam have Jesus leading their army against the Christians. Is everyone right?



I have been going to Pompeii lectures down at the National Museum. They are so boring that the Italian lecturers have had to stop and wake people up before they fell out of their chairs. I thought for sure I was going to get creamed by a fat lady beside me. When they start weaving, you get worried.



We caught the annual Christmas Light Up on Saturday. They turned the lights on at 7:45 this year. The President threw the switch himself. President? I asked. There's a president? Yes named Nathan. What does he do? Christmas Light Up evidently.



That's all from here. Steve is going back to China for ten days and I want to finish Christmas shopping. May the Buddha be with you-or his parts anyway! See ya.

Drama in Singapore

Dear Readers,

Last week was filled with frustration and agony. I came down with a sore throat on Monday night and it went downhill from there. I was suppose to be at a book club but couldn't finish the book because I broke my Kindle. It didn't matter because I was called to the travel agency to finish paying for my upcoming trip to New Zealand. I hoofed it to the other side of island only to have my credit card shut down (I already called several weeks ago to make sure this didn't happen). There I was, embarassed, and unable to reach the company on the phone. So I hoofed it back to the apartment, only I got on the wrong train in my furstration and headed in another direction. By the time I got back to the apartment, I'd missed the book club. So I called the credit card people and hoofed it back over to the travel agency, having paid up.

There seemed to be some good news. The insurance company had investigated where our $6000 went and it had been found at the Raffles Hospital. Great I thought. I gave them a call. They had no idea what I was talking about. This was the fourth time I had called them to ask if they had received the overpayment. No, No. No. I was beyond upset. They said they would call me back. Never heard from them. More important, I missed going out to the pool waiting for their call.

Now, I went to my new writers club down at the American Club. They meet 10:30-1. Why so long? We all had an assignment and each of us reads our writing. The assignment was to start a page with "My mother never . . .," and make it up. After the first draft, you take your mother out of it and then yourself. I ended up with a woman named Carrie who is executed on death row because she murdered her boss who had taken out a hit on her. She was laundering money for a casino. Anyway, when I got finished reading my work, everyone was speechless. They are nonfiction writers, reporters for CNN, etc. They need help writing fiction and they hope I can help. I live in an imaginary world, I told them, where hospitals call you back and your credit card is not declined.

The real world sucks. Is any of that stuff true about your mother, they asked. Only in my head, ha!

So I look forward to reading some of my chapters of my new novel to them.

On Friday I took a taxi and went down to the hospital. I marched up to the office with my copy of the email from the insurance company and the number of the wireless transaction. Ah, they declared, they had found my money over night. It's in the mail. So far I haven't seen it in the mail. Looks like another road trip.

This weekend Steve and I went to a farmer's market that had been advertised. It turned out to be some westerners making alittle money on the side importing organic vegetables from Malaysia or bored housewives making ice cream. We were out in the middle of no where and I was afraid we would have a long way to walk home with my bottle of organic rose wine. But it must have been karma. We walked out to the road and a taxi just drove up! That night we went to Raffles Hotel and had a Singapore Sling. I hadn't done that yet. After getting liquored up, we rode over to Little India to see the lights for the Hindu festival Deepavali (Festival of Lights). Cheesey Christmas lights on the main streets have been banned by the Prime Minister. But they abound there! It celebrates the triumph of good over evil. Everyone gets the day off. On Sunday we went to see Adele and the rising mummy adventure. In French because I picked the wrong cinema. Only one had French with English subtitles and that's the one I picked. It was a scream, French or not. I recommend it when you're in a silly mood (or liquored up).

Tammy and I went to charity Christmas fair at the Goodwood historical hotel. It was cool until I saw the dragon ornament I bought at Tanglin fifteen dollars higher then I paid for it. That's when I realized we weren't getting any deals here. It was the big shake down. I did buy Christmas cards with the three wisemen riding Thai elephants.

Well, that's all from here. Say happy birthday to Sarah. She's an old lady now. Ha! What does that make me? Ancient. My mother? Old as dirt. My grandmother? She knew George Washington personally. See ya.

You call that fashion?

Dear Readers,

We would have had a great weekend except for the noise upstairs. Some people have moved in above us and they are a herd of moose. Starting from 4:30 when the kids arrive home, there's a NASCAR race upstairs until about 1 am. I can't go to bed until they do and so I have asked to be moved. This is drastic. We love our apartment and the view over the pool. Why don't they move them? They aren't complaining. This is a battle until the end-I will call every night starting at ten. Last night our pleas ended at 12:30.

I went to the fashion show sponsored by the American Association of Women down at Tanglin Mall. I've never seen so many Texans in all my life. Everyone there was a wife of an oil engineer here building platforms and running the businesses. Like most Americans, we were not Asian size. We were eating all the donuts too! It's what we do! We were all complaining how there were no clothes here our size and how shopping is a drag.

Then the designer for the store we were in call out with a girl's necklace around HIS neck. He wanted to tell us what to wear in Singapore-all black and white, balloon dresses, and the worst material I have ever saw. I couldn't believe the price for $10 worth of wrinkled crap. Did I buy something? Sure. I wanted to be part of the herd. I was eating the donuts. I bought a rust Tank top. It made me look busty! These women went for the clothes though. I couldn't believe the cash I saw coming out of their oil wallets. I was given a grab bag, some barbed wire earrings, and sent on my way like the trailer trash I am.

That night I rode over to the National Museum with Tammy and her husband to catch the Pompeii lecture on the people of Pompeii. I was interested in serious intellectual study but everyone was there for the talk on prostitutes. Yes, Pompeii was a red light district before it's demise in 79 AD. I remember it well. The British scholar was great and the slides very good. I told Temmy that I wished I remembered more of my Latin! Maybe I should take it up again. She said no one takes Latin for fun. What kind of a weirdo was I? Trailer trash? This weekend Steve and I went to the museum exhibit for the first time. I have to say I was amazed at all the relics they had and the collection of plaster bodies. The best thing was the 3D movie made by the Melbourne University. I had these large glasses on and volcanic ash was pouring over me and I was swatting at fire sparks in the air. I was really there! When we were half way through the tour when all of a sudden these people rush in Roman costumes, yelling and fleeing from the volcano. You see, we didn't take the interactive tour with the actors! We heard it anyway! I couldn't help but think about those people in Indonesia who refused to leave their houses when the volcano went last week. They were found in the same positions as the Romans in 79 AD. See, the Romans didn't have clue to what was happening. But the Indonesians? It was on the front page of the paper.

Christmas trees are going up everywhere downtown. I have to admit I've never the seen the newest thing here-an umbrella turned upside down that circulates false snow up and down over Santa. I was impressed with the lengths that people go to to sell Christmas. Connecting Christmas to umbrellas now is a stretch.

Tammy and I went to see a Chinese art gallery. The paintings there went from realistic to contemporary and abstract. It was fun to see the range of colors and techniques. Most important of all, I got a list of all the art galleries on the island. So I want to visit every one

I included the rest of the Malaysian pictures. Have a look. Bye.

Malaysia-Not in Kansas Anymore

Dear Readers,

We began our trip to Malacca, Malaysia (the country Singapore was suppose to be a part of. They split in 1964) by going by taxi to the bus hub near our old haunt, Raffles Hospital. We got on our bus early, about 8:30 am. The bus was good, spacious, and the seats inclined. I was impressed. We even got a bottle of water for the ride. All was good till we reached the Singapore checkpoint. Since I have a new passport, there's nothing stamped in it. We had to wait in the passport line while all the other natives sailed through the "auto" line. The bus driver was annoyed when we got held up-they wanted to see my old passport (which was back at the aprtment). That wasn't going to happen so we comprised on my Permanent Resident card (Green card). They let me through finally and our bus was waiting for the next hurdle. A short time later we arrive at the Malaysia checkpoint where we have to get off and dragged our suitcase into the terminal where we wait once again in a passport line. I am scared now because I know the new passport is a sticky point. But as it turned out, he didn't give it a second glance. Stamped it-yeah, no longer blank, and I was gone. Now he gave Steve the third degree-where you going, where you living, what's your favorite color? I had to laugh. Then we dragged our suitcase back out of the terminal and got back on the bus (they didn't even check the suitcase. What was the point of that?) Anyway, we were in Malaysia and guess what, it looked exactly like Singapore! The highway was completely modern and I swore I was in Virginia. Until I saw the oil palm trees for the next three hours. That's all I saw. We stopped at a rest stop? near Malacca. It was a hawker stand with something that passed as a restroom included. Now let me tell you about the bathrooms. The Asians are fond of squatting. Their idea of a toilet is a hole. You have to squat someway over this hole without falling out of the stall or getting stuck in that position or peeing on your clothes. I always feel like I am outside in the woods somewhere. Sanitary? Not on your life.

Our "five minute" stop turned into a half hour lunch break for the driver. We were suppose to get to our hotel by 12:30 so we could catch the 2:00 historic tour. We finally arrived at 1:40 with a sandwich I bought at the hotel for lunch. We split a Pepsie. The hotel was the Holiday Inn, brand new, and very nice. Our room overlooked the ocean (Straits of Malacca) and a new modern looking Mosque to remind me I was an American with a grudge. No complaints there. The guide was there and we got into a van and were off. Right off the bat we came to a high hill with a huge amount of steps to climb in 105 degree heat. Here were the remains of the Portuguese, then Dutch fort with the first catholic church on top of the hill. Not much was left because the English bombed it back in the 1700's. It was amazing to me how the Portuguese got there in the early 1500's and set up camp. Their descendants are still there and still catholic.

Anyhow, sweating like a pig, I climbed the steps and gazed at the statue of St. Francis of Xaiver or something. He was the first missionary and his statue is missing part of an arm because when he died, they wanted to ship him back to India but the climate wouldn't cooperate. Instead they chopped off his arm and sent that pickled back to India. The Dutch turned it into a Protestant Church when they kicked out the Portuguese. Then the English turned the catholic churches into Anglican churches later. That's how it works. By the way, Malacca means sour fruit in Malay. I found that to be fitting.

We briefly looked at old churches, Hindu Temples, poked into mosques, and observed Buddhist/Chinese temples there. We toured the mock Portuguese ship in the canal. We were dropped off to shop, still sweating, and the place reminded me alot of Bali with the narrow roads and cracked sidewalks. Then came dinner at a Malay famous restaurant wich reminded me of Cambodia. Like always I ordered a coke and had to pay extra. I was horrified when they brought me ice. Later I found out that the water in Malaysia is safe. In fact, Singapore imports their water from there. All this time I have been drinking Malay water.

I don't know what we ate. Of course there was rice. There were shrimp floating in curry, chicken dipped in this or that, some brown stuff we couldn't tell, and cooked cabbage. The dessert was a dish of coconut milk which I refused to touch and most definitely insulted my host. See, coconut milk used in everything in Asia. It also acts as a laxative. So no thanks. We went back to the hotel and had a piece of cake.

The TV remote wouldn't work because the batteries were dead. We gave up and went to bed. The next day we went out on our own to the new mall across the street to look around. Sweating once again, we ended up back in the historic area where we shopped some more, took a canal boat ride, and noticed the graffiti. They must watch alot of rap videos. Anyway, our time was short and after a lunch at McDonalds, we caught a ride back with Steve's fellow worker from the plant who is Malay and was in Malacca for a wedding. He offered to give us a ride because it would be shorter. But he decided to show us around Malacca first. He took us to another fort that we had to climb then to a catholic church that has a cross people take pieces from for healing (not much left) and then a Buddhist cemetery. His friend explained that Moslem Malays are buried standing up with only a wrapping around the body. I noticed there were no names on the little stones. If you are Malay (not of Portuguese, Euroasian, Indian, or Chinese decent) then you are legally Muslim. You can be prosecuted by law if you practice another religion. No kidding. This is true in Indonesia as well. There is no converting. Religion, especially Islam, is a serious matter. The friend of Steve's driving was Buddhist (he was of Chinese descent) and his wife (also Chinese) was Catholic. I was in the back seat with the wife and two girls (2 and 4) for the next five hours.

Now to get back into Singapore, you drove into a checkpoint and handed through the window, your passport. The lady called out everyone's name and we waved back. That was it. They didn't check the luggage, the car, or anything. I found that odd. Couldn't we have been carrying drugs, a bomb, or at the very least a carton of illegal ciggarettes? We weren't of course, but still. How do they expect to keep the chewing gum out if they don't check?

So that was it. We returned home about 7:00 pm. Healthy and tired.

You mean that's smoke?

Dear Readers,

Singapore is on fire. Or rather Sumatra is. Somewhere in Indonesia on an island they are burning rainforest for all their worth. Why? To plant crops in the very ineffective mode of agriculture called slash and burn. It has been the way of doing things for centuries and in Sumatra, they think it's still 1000 A.D. So the smoke from these fires has blanketed Singapore and Malaysia for days now, blocking out the sun and causing the eyes to burn. It's very blah outside, gray and New York City like. Ha! I have never experienced smog before because I live on a farm in the U.S. It's common here in Asia but I never thought it would infer with my life as a sloth at the pool. What a tough life.

Now that my friend Tammy is back, it's time to get into trouble around the island. We try to go somewhere interesting every week and often find ourselves lost. You see, I am the navigator and it's like the blind leading the blind. I have a map (it means nothing to me) and Tammy isn't much help. So yesterday we decided to visit this mall called Great City that my other friend Annette often talks about. We had to take a taxi because there wasn't a MRT stop any where close. No problem. The mall was new, modern, and best of all we found a Kenny Rogers Chicken place. I'd never heard of it but Tammy knew all about it. So we has chicken for lunch and it was very good. I was delighted to find out the mall had a movie theatre as ours has closed down for nine months. Then came the tricky part. Annette had told me about Quilt and Friends in this Tan Boon Liat Building within walking distance. I knew it was on Mt. Zion street and it was near the Concorde Hotel. So we asked someone, they sent us in one direction. Then we asked another person, they sent us in the opposite direction. This went on for an hour and a half before we realized that the Holiday Inn has taken over the Concorde Hotel. We found a man who told us, yeah, the building next door really was the building he was looking for. Looking for the quilt shop? he asked. Yeah, what gave us away? His friend's sister worked there. Are you sure that ratty old building next door that looked like an government housing block was where we were suppose to go? The one with -was that underwear? hanging out from the top floor? Yeah. Well, we walked on, all around this place trying to find the way in. It was another mile before we actually came to the gate. The building was a warehouse. Up on the sixth floor I could see the place I was looking for. We looked at each other. Did we really want to venture into such a creepy place? Sketchy guys all around. Even sketchier guys in the elevator. We weren't allowed to punch the buttons ourselves. That was sketchy guy's job. Well, we finally got there and it was a real shop. I am trying to make the red chinese latern quilt for Tammy and we bought some white and red material. I got a card with an address-I will be taking a taxi next time! This shop is run by a little old Swiss lady and yes, she was real nice like Annette claimed. They told us to take a bus back to Orchard but we have no experience with that. We went back to the Holiday Inn and got a taxi. Poor Tammy was worn out!

Tammy told me some bad news. She and her husband Greg take lots of medication and have it shipped over through his company. The customs here seized their medicine and said they can't do that any more without a license. See, they aren't selling the stuff. They are taking the stuff. That didn't cut any ice with them. You don't mess with the customs people-they make life very hard. I am worried now about my medication which is just mailed in a box through the regular mail. Will I have to have a license to get an antacid? Does seem silly. I will wait and see how Tammy resolves this before I panic. Hope we don't end up in jail.

Well, we're off to Malaysia. Hope we can see the sights through the smoke.

Life in Singapore

Donna cops out.

Dear Readers,

I recently noticed that my $10 purse was on the brink of death. The shoulder straps are always the first to go. So, where to go. I am not a designer purse person. I don't know one brand from another therefore I don't think someone's name on a purse means anything I should pay attention to. I was looking for a purse that was small, had shoulder straps, but I could carry a small umbrella in. I have been soaked too many times in surprise storms here in Singapore. I don't want to be caught unaware. Where I live there are a hundred high end purse stores. Because my knees are giving me trouble, I didn't want to have to travel very far to find a purse so I found myself wandering through my favorite department store that sells designer purses. And there it was. A new arrival. A Hilly on a pedestal. Blue. My favorite colour. Many salegirls were following me around because I looked like a white tourist-their favorite mark. They get a commission. I was disappointed I couldn't give all of them a sale but alas, I needed only one purse. You can see the purse above. At the same time I went to 7 Eleven to buy a cell phone that operates off a pay card (Sims). If you buy one, the government has to know who you are and you have to give them a copy of your passport to purchase one.

They are afraid that terorists are buying them to operate in Singapore. They do this in Indonesia (they have found hugh amounts of them in the terorist headquarters). So I am now registered with the government as an owner of a cell phone. I can never remember the 10 digit phone number. I have to carry the number written down in a small notebook (which also fits in this blue purse!)

I was told to buy a cell phone by my new friend Annette who is from Blacksburg VA. She and I were taking quilt lessons from Ira, the quilt lady nearby. She insulted Annette once too often and now she has defected to another quilt shop run by a nice Swiss lady. There she found a whole group of Ira defectors taking classes. She had asked me to come over to the dark side. I am still thinking it over. I am sure that when Ira sees my latest problems with my current quilt, she will give me an ear full. Rightly so. Is that a reason not to put up with her verbal abuse? She is a mother figure to me. My mother always gives me an ear full. I feel at home there.

I am going to the new quilt shop next week to check it out. It's always good to know where an alternate supply of material is. The other picture is me in my newest little black dress. I wore it out to Jumbo Seafood Restaurant at Dempsey Hill. This was a nice Chinese place where the walls were filled with live fish and lobsters and shrimp in tanks. Every once in awhile I would see a net come down and another fish would disappear. Fred the lobster would reappear in a cute dish of rice and vegetables at the table next door. It was quite a magic trick!

More from Asia later!