I was reading this blog about an Australia expatriate mom in Singapore, it really brought tears of laughter and sadness in me.
She wrote a couple of entries in the first year of her stay here. The things she find 'unusual' in Singapore, and the things that she misses about Australia. I nodded my head with laughter at her innocent observations on 'car indicators/signals are optional' and stuffed with 'bread full of added sugar'. There was also the 'internet with unlimited download data' and being able to take a cab without breaking the bank.
I laughed because I did not know who to identify with- the Singaporean in me or that Aussie way of living that I have already gotten so used to. Once upon a time, I whinged at the supermakets in Australia for not having asian produce. It took a few years and I hardly make separate trips to chinese groceries except for a joyride. Now I wander along the aisles of NTUC wondering why cured meats are only limited to cocktail sausages and streaky bacon.
It feels like just when you have got into the groove of things into your blood and suddenly you find yourself waking up and all the things of the past was just a dream. I have got into routines which can last forever. Waking up to the smell of lattes, or even my Nescafe short black (not sold in Singapore), made with my $1 a litre fresh Australian milk, 2 slices of toasted Helga's pumpkin seeds bread, and dinner outside without having to add the GST and service charge components mentally.
The other night I went supermaket shopping at 11pm, capturing the deja vu of going to the only place open in Melbourne at night.
I wonder if I will be more at home lamenting with this aussie mom in Singapore, about the white sugared bread, the humidity which is killing me, the forms that intrusively ask you everything from race to marital status, the eternal summer, the dirty toilets... or will I feel at home now that I am amongst the friends whom I ate white bread during recess with, the ex colleagues I island hopped with, and the toilet paperless toilets that served me well once upon a long time ago.
I come one full circle to the point where the things that once was familiar to me seemed foreign, and I forget the familiar that were once foreign to me.
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes" (Proust)
