Lost in Buddha Land again

Dear Readers,

This week I have been doing less than usual because of a big cold. This is a kind of flu that has been going around for weeks here. My husband finally had to break down and visit the doctor to get drugs. It just wasn't going to go away. I have been down for a week with a cough, chest pain, sore throat, and runny nose. I have been stealing my husband's drugs to try and shorten this thing.

In the midst of this pain, I had already signed up for a tour of the oldest Buddhist monastery in Singapore. I decided to go and spread the misery around. This monastery (1880's) was hard to get to because it is now located inside a housing block. Orginally it was built in a swamp on land owned by a spice grower. He and his son had a dream that people were coming to see them to built a temple for Buddha. So they went down that day and waited at the harbor. On the last ship were a group of Buddhist monks and nuns. He took them home and let them stay for awhile. One monk stayed and helped design the temple. The monastery was huge at first but as Singapore grew up around it, it lost its land. It became a big martial arts school taught by monks because the swamp land was where the criminals hung out. During WWII Chinese guerillas were taught to be machinists and mechanics to help overthrow the Japanese. So the Japanese quickly shut it down when they got there. The monks were put in prison camps. After the war, they reopened.

Now the monastery is still a large place with twenty one buildings. The only have about five monks there to hold down the fort. I was told monks like to travel. They never stay in one place for more than a couple years and then it's on to the next place! Buddha said suffering is caused by ignorance so they travel to learn things. Their needs are few.

This monastery has been in the midst of remodeling. It got termites and they did a number on the roof. The government told them to replace it or else so they went out and raised the money by begging, selling relics and beads, and squeezing patrons. They only have one microphone to chant with but lots of other good stuff-gold statues, bonzai trees, ying and yang everywhere. This temple to dedicated to the Buddha of mercy, a woman buddha (some say like Mary, mother of Jesus). Everywhere there were offerings of candy, fruits, and stacks of oranges.

We weren't supposed to take pictures inside but the women I was with snapped them right and left. One even got the sign that said no photographs. I thought about ignorance and what would Buddha do! They were definitely going to get extras lives for that!

Next door and run by the monks was a Chinese temple dedicated to the Chinese god of Singapore. This was packed by old people burning incense and stacks of paper money. Here you could buy paper laptops and cell phones to offer to the gods as well as the usual money and houses. It was time for the birthday of the god and they were selling paper costumes. The god needed a new pair of shoes. Outside were horses wrapped in golden cloaks and whose legs were surrounded by red strings. This string, the guide told us, was to remind the soldiers when they left to fight, that they had "strings attached" to the family they left behind. They needed to come back.

After the tour, we walked through Toa Payuah, the place they built housing for the public the first time. These flats were the first attempt to house the homeless, landless, and general population of Singapore. Senior citizens got apartments that were only one four levels because they were afraid of heights. The original flats are gone now, all rebuilt as all apartment buildings are after they stand so long. Now these aren't free. Each person buys them and then pays the government rent. The key here is ownership. They own their flats-making about a $30,000 down payment before they can have it. They are interviewed, the government makes the loan, and they can cash in their "social security" to make the payment. Why? The government determined that "ownership" is all that keeps people from poverty, rioting, and other bad stuff. You see, they believe, give a person his own place and they will be law abiding and successful citizens. Give a person public housing without strings and they will be dependent on the government, not take care of the property, and in general fall into crime, drugs, and poverty. They use the US as one example. You can see the same things in China and most other Asian countries (India for example).

These apartments ( I walked through demos at the headquarters) are great. One-Three Bedrooms are available. People pick out their colors, cabinets, appliances, odds and ends. Then the government builds them. Singapore houses 87% of their population this way. The rest live in private apartments and houses (the rest that were left). They cost a fortune!

On the way over to the headquarters of the housing authority, we stopped by a grassy knoll between buildings. Here, the guide told us, the construction crew found an idol under a tree. They considered it a sign from heaven and refused to bulldoze the tree. The engineer got on the bulldozer and said he would do it himself. The dozer flipped over killing him. They left the tree and constructed a temple on the spot. They set up a shrine in the folds of the tree. I saw a Zen cat napping there.

So, an interesting time was had by all.

My Big Fat Muslim Wedding

Dear Readers,

This past weekend I was invited to a Muslim wedding reception. Several people mann the desk here at the aprtments where I live. They call cabs, make copies, give directions, solve all sorts of problems. They are very nice and friendly and so after awhile, you get to know them. One, Matiien, was getting married and gave us an invitation to "his" reception on a Saturday. My friend Tammy was invited to the actual wedding that took place at the bride's house on Friday night. Matiien's father is from Northern India while his mother is Malaysian/Chinese. All that makes him Muslim. The wedding, where women and men sit apart, was quite a beautiful ceremony, according to Tammy. The bride was completely veiled except for the eyes. She didn't understand anything that was said but still, it was quite different from an American wedding.

The next day was Saturday and his reception. He had invited 1200 people! You see, you must invite everyone you know-from grocer to teacher to fellow students years ago! No one can be slighted or forgotten. We understood that his bride had invited 3000 for Sunday on her day. It started at noon and ended at six. The food was Indian for the most part and served buffett style by his relatives. We took a taxi to the community center where it was taking place. Matiien's parents, who had never heard of us, greeted us with kisses and hugs. We were introduced to all the relatives-sisters, brothers, cousins, grandmothers, everyone! Then we were ushered to the table next to the stage and urged to fill our plates. This we did, wondering what were eating, but going with the flow. You don't insult your host! After all, poor Matiien had gone into large debt to pay for all this we heard. So we ate and took pictures. Then at one came the Indian dancers and drum beating. This was exciting! Such stamina! Most of the dances seem to be traditional but some of it seemed to be inspired by Slumdog Millionaire! A bit modern.

Then they pulled Steve and Tammy up on the stage leaving Greg and I to laugh our heads off and take the pictures. Then Matiien and his bride (now draped in red) came down the red carpet and took a seat on the stage for the next couple of hours. All the time, everything is being narrated by a guy with a microphone in a language we didn't know and became irritating after awhile. We were brought back up to the stage and our pictures taken with the couple. Matiien was dressed in a traditional outfit complete with Aladden shoes. You can rent them, he told us. The flying carpet is optional.

People and workers from our apartments continued to join us throughout the day. Free food. Matiien thanked his parents and us for coming. They had to go change clothes (they change four times to complete the ritual) so we took the opportunity to escape. In the end we rented a maxi cab and all ten of us squeezed into the van and got back alive.

I have been back in Singapore a little over a week. Seems like years now. It's dry and hot here when it's supposed to be the rainy season. I have actually gotten a sunburn on some days. My stomach comes and goes and my fibromyaglia has turned itself on. My skin is crawling with electrical shocks and sometimes I feel like bugs are crawling all over me. My neck is super sore and always in bad shape.

Still, I like the heat. Tammy is leaving soon for the rest of the summer and I won't have anyone to play with before I go home for good. No worries. I have a book to finish, three quilts ready for me to sew up, and I have to finish using up all my paints since I can't take them home on the plane. Then I have some activities lined up from the American Association. I am still hoping to get to China and the Great Wall. So I will be busy. I also have to think about how my life is going to change when I return for good. No maids. No pool. No noise. No more fun. Just a few cows in the distance. Whatever will I do? Stay tuned.

What's Old in Singapore?

Dear Readers,

I'm getting ready to return to the States for three weeks over Easter. Before I go, I needed to take care of some things and get some engagements out of the way.

First of all, I was booked on the Sultan Tour which included a tour with the women of the American Association of the oldest surviving section of Singapore. This was the area where Lord Raffles first landed to see what he could get for the British and away from the Dutch. He found a Malaysian tribe living in houses along the beach eeking out a living as fishermen and pirates. At the same time, the first born son of the sultan (of Johor who ruled the area) had been kicked off the throne by his younger brother. His head had a price on it so he came to Raffles and said-make me Sultan of Singapore. Sure, Raffles said, just deed the property to us and we will keep the money coming. So he did and the rest was history. We tour the oldest sections of streets allowed to remain as long as they are kept up. Beach street now was where the water was before they recovered the land and expanded the island (Just two blocks over). The sultan built a mosque for the family and the people. Eventually, the British got tired of the sultans and ran them back to Malaysia. The king of the pirates then asked for the title-in return for hassling all ships not belonging to the British. Good Deal. The pirates built a home for their new Sultan and there they loved until just recently when the government threw them out. I understand that 300 people were living in the compound. The home is now a museum.

We toured the mosque-run by a Muslim convert from Indiana, USA. Naturally he spoke perfect English! Because he was American. I understand he converted from Catholicism. Anyway, we saw where they pray five times a day, where women are excluded upstairs, and the pray carpets provided by the Saudi family. They sell compasses for people who need to know where Mecca is everywhere in the world. Around the blocks surrounding the church are shops selling the Muslim products no one wants to be without. There are perfumes without alcohol. Prayer rugs. Hats. Outfits for pilgrimage. Head scarves. After the mosque, we headed over to the Sultan's House and then walked to the Muslim cemetery where the sultans are buried. Here things have fallen on bad times. The grounds were swampy and jungle like. There were hundreds of markers-Muslims are buried in shrouds with the head touching the earth. A pointed monument tells you it's a male and a flat topped monument indicates a female. There are no names. The sultans are on a raised platform with gold material tied to the monuments to indicate royolty. The guide told us that the cemetery was slated for destruction and a block of public housing is coming to be built over top.

If land isn't taken care, three letters go out, and then Bam, the land automatically falls to the government who builds on it.

The next day I took a taxi to the Raffles Town Club for the annual American fashion show. Here the members model clothes of various shops and mostly their tailor friends. Some models were skinny and some were real women-250 lbs worth. Not everyone looks good in a wrap dress or tube dress. I especially was fond of the lady with the Harley Davis tattoo on her back. Seems she rode a hog back in the States.

The big news I learned at the show was that you can spin bamboo fibers and make clothes out of them. Bamboo is so versatile-you can put it in soup, feed it to pandas, and go fishing with it. Now you can wear it.

The chocolate panels up at the hotel are almost finished. The chiefs from Taiwan, China, and other places were flow in to do the carving. I have been eating samples from the work at the desk there in a jar. They know Tammy on sight. "You again?" they ask. Unfortunately the hot tub at the hotel has been broke for months now and we are ticked. We really liked soaking up there after a hard day of touring, fashion shows, and chocolate eating. The easter delights have sold out!

Well, got to go. They upped my suitcase limit to 70 lbs. I can pack more it now! See you. May the Easter bunny bring you calorie free treats and good weather.

What's new in Singapore?

Dear Readers,

I know it has been a while since I last wrote. I have been struggling with stomach failure (gastroparesis) for a month now. For those who don't know what it's like, imagine you can't eat solid food because it doesn't digest. Instead, it sits in your stomach and rots causing pain and nausea. This goes on all day and night. While others are munching on hamburgers, you are sipping your Ensure and losing weight. So I went to the doctor here and started on a drug called domperdone, an old drug they used to use for morning sickness. It pushes food through the stomach and into the intestines at a faster rate than normal and controls naseau. It's like having an alien in your stomach. There are minimum side effect but the drug is illegal in the US because it causes birth defects. No worries there for me. Now that I am doing better, I am trying to get off it. We'll see if that is possible.

So, what else have I been doing? On our unending quest to finish all the things we want to do before we leave on August 25th, we headed over to Vivo City and caught the cable car rides to Sentosa Island and Mt. Fabor (highest peak in Singapore). More like a rock. While over at Sentosa, we had lunch at the newly opened Shangri La hotel there. Quite a place. Then we headed over to Mt. Fabor for a great view of the harbor, the ships, cruise ships, and tropical rainforest on the mountain. It began to rain so we headed back to the mall where they were having a wedding workshop. Steve took some pictures of the dresses in order to see if our daughters had any comment. Weddings here run $100,000 easy.

It's coming up on Easter here and it's the time of the chocolate duck in Sinagpore. At the Shangri La Hotel, however, not only can you get a chocolate duck but you can get a chocolate frog, mushroom, strawberry egg, two foot bunny, rooster, and my favorite-chocolate puzzles. You can even get a chocolate box with chocolate eggs inside. They have constructed a huge box with chocolate sides that the chiefs are carving. You crave a crunch bar just walking by. These guys have alot of talent-carving camels and tropical scenes all out of chocolate. What a country.

Recently we ventured over to the new Art Science Museum at Marina Bay, next to the casino. It was newly opened and they have alot of bugs to work out. First of all, they had eight counters and only one computer working. All the workers were gathered around the one computer watching the one girl work while the line was out the door. Steve was vivid. Then the audio was too difficult to even operate. It wouldn't slide (what happened to the good old days of buttons?) Steve was more vivid. However, I really enjoyed the exhibit on Genghis Khan and the trebachet (lobbing machine they used in ancient times to knock down walls). They had a little one that Steve and I played with-lobbing ping pong balls at one another. Then they had exhibits on the silk road with stuffed camels and such. Then there was the Oman ship wreck of 800AD off the Indonesian coast that had just beautiful and perfect china kept in barrells. It was marvelous to look out and imagine how after all this time, it was still in the perfect condition it was packed it back in 800 AD. Wow.

The design of this building is in the form of a lotus flower. It was fantastic. But they have a long way to go to make this museum work. For example, there wasn't any science. Just the hope that science was coming. They need to take some things from the art museum and some weird stuff they have in the national museum and stick it in there. And gets some science. They do alot of that here.

Last night I forgot I had signed up for a art lecture at the American club. It was at 6:30 and I remembered at 6:40. Oh no! I had already paid. So off I went in my Tshirt and shorts, running to the club. I got here about 7 and was ushered in to a room full of snooty art people dressed in ties and jackets and dresses. I felt pretty low and to make matters worse, the only seat left was up front. I decided to be a man and walked up there proud and sat down like I wasn't trailer trash. Like I had money to buy art. The lecture was excellent advice on how to start a collection and the guy from Sotheby's did a mock auction. That was fun. Afterwards, I sipped my free red cheap wine like I was one of them and acted like I knew what I was doing. But I learned my lesson. I got to start writing stuff down! My head is full of fluff!

Last Monday Steve and I had dinner with his boss's boss and some new people who have moved to Singapore on behalf of the company. They insisted we go to a Japanese restuarant. I had tempura shrimp and fried potato salad. No Kidding. Honestly, it was potato salad they had deep fried. Delicious. Never heard of that. Steve had soup with those shrimp with eyeballs swimming in it. To each their own.

I wanted to go to my bookclub at this lady's house so I took a taxi. Little did I know that the Chinese taxi driver knew less than me and I knew nothing. He drove up to Robertson Quay, the sign, at the Sinagpore River and said get out. I said this didn't look like an apartment building to me. So I got out and carried the address to about twenty people, all who gave me different directions to go in. Oops. Now a half an hour had passed, I was still at the river with a very black cloud over my head, and no closer to getting to the bookclub. A man at the back of an hotel saw me and motioned me over. I thought I sure do stick out like a sore thumb! Lost? You bet, sir. He had no idea either but he lead me inside the hotel (It had become white with a monsoon rain outside) and the man there ran me off a map. I tried and tried to call the lady whose apartment I was going to when I finally realized my phone was dead. Now what? I was long gone from where I was supposed to be and they were still pointing me in the wrong direction-according to the map they had just given me! A taxi drove up to the hotel and I jumped in. Home, James. I got home alive and dry. I called the lady from the apartment and she said no one had trouble-they had all taken taxis. Good for them. Wish they had picked me up as they seemed to know where they were going.

I learned my lesson. Make sure they know where you are trying to get to or all is lost before you even start. And make sure your phone is working. I had it fixed today! Tammy and I heading out to unknown territory tomorrow and I don't want to get stuck.

At night, Steve and I have been walking around the botantical gardens for exercise. We happened upon these cacti that people had been carving on. See, graffiti is a big offense. No one wanted to deface the park but I see they had no fear of attacking an innocent cacti that couldn't fight back. No one would dare to carve up a tree (planted by the Prime Minister himself!) I suppose the police traced the initials and caned the offenders. Or made them sit on cacti.

Well, the saddest thing has happened. My favorite store, This Fashion, is going bankrupt and closing. Seems they are in debt. This store was a brainstorm of some guy who copied run way designs, bought cheap fabrics and sent the designs to China for inexpensive knockoffs. He made a mint selling designer clothes at $20 a pop. I certainly have a very cool wardrobe because of him that I get all kinds of compliments on. They think I have gone to Mango or something where they sell a $10 blouse for $240. Oh well, times change. Soon I'll be back at Walmart and my usual sucky stock of clothes that I can afford. But for awhile, I lived like a queen . . .