WHAT MAKES HIM HAPPY

Friday night I joined my girlfriends for a party celebrating a new marriage. The evening, deemed “Alice in Weddingland” was relaxing and more fun that I imagined. Each guest was asked to wear something from a wedding, either the girls’ own or from another’s, and bring along any wedding keepsakes.

My dress is in a box in my mother’s house – at least I hope it is. I have yet to open the box to confirm my dress is actually inside. Even if I had my dress in Singapore, I doubt I would want to put it on, hail a taxi and wear it to a house party. It’s not the easiest dress to get in and out of.

I have a wedding box, but that is at someone’s American house as well. The box contains a couple copies of our dinner menu, the sugar flowers from our cake, all of the cards we received and my blue shoes – they were my “something blue.”

All I have are some photos in frames. Though it has been more than three years, I have yet to do anything about an album. I have thought about putting something together and having a online store print some books; I have considered paying more than $1,000 for my photographer to just do it for me. But, alas, I have not done anything beyond the thinking stage.

So I took the frames to the party. I dressed myself in a one-shouldered, knee-length navy dress that I wore to my mother’s wedding, flopped on a pair of flip flops and headed over. Avril had her light blue dress hanging from her stairway; Nic was wearing her wedding veil with a new, blinged out, knee-length fluffy dress she deemed her “second wedding” dress. Katie, though quite pregnant, was wearing the wedding dress she wore one year ago – an empire waist style, flowing Balinese dress, her baby bump gently showing.

We sipped some bubbly, gathered over a few snacks and, as more people arrived, mingled a bit. We played a game whereby we each had to write three words that described a fabulous wedding story onto a sheet of paper. Throughout the night, we gathered on the couches and the stories that corresponded with each phrase.

Gaylin started laughing when she read her first phrase: “O.K., I HAVE to know this story! Whose is ‘Drunk Organ Player’?” “An arm rocketed straight up in the air, a giant smile streamed across a face and Avril shouted, “That’s ME!” She then proceeded to tell us how she was raised Jehovah’s Witness and that her first time in a church was when she was 20, attending a wedding with her then boyfriend.

“I knew all the classic songs,” she said and cited a few that can be heard at traditional ceremonies. “And I knew them well enough to know that the organ player was getting them wrong.” She went on to say that she overheard people letting out their frustrations over the fact that the organ player was drunk and then shouted, “I was totally convinced it was the devil!”

We went on to hear stories about how one groom made it absolutely clear that his bride was not to be drunk at their wedding and then the groom was on the floor, absolutely wasted; one girl loved makeup so much that her bridesmaids and on-site makeup team took her makeup and shouted, “No more mascara!” We heard a story about how a story about a stripper got worked into a wedding speech and then, the next year, it got worked into someone else’s wedding toast – that was mine. I called it “Like a Stripper.”

We all gathered around mini wedding cakes, cut them and ravaged them. At one point, we gathered around the memorabilia tables, shared photos and told stories. I was asked about my own wedding and if it was everything I always wanted. “No,” I replied. “If I had it my way, I would have had an entire university choir singing a capella as I walked down the aisle of some majestic stone church. I would have had hundreds of people dancing to my favorite band and themed bars around the reception location. There would have been amazing fireworks when the sun went down. “We did it the way that made Paul happy – and it was perfect.”

We started planning a destination wedding. We saw spaces along the Cape and on Martha’s Vineyard. And then we realized we would be spending $14,000 on 10 people’s travel before we would spend a dime on the wedding, so we opted for something closer to home.

Paul found the venue – a small white stone garden. When our guest list kept growing, we cut it – severely. Paul, for those of you who don’t know him, doesn’t like people. He, unlike most brides, did not want to be the center of attention. I was there when he asked his best friend to be his best man and the guy laughed and said, “No! Absolutely not!” because they both hate weddings that much. “See?” Paul turned and told me. “I’m not the only one!”

We celebrated our nuptials in front of 27 people. We had dinner in a fabulous restaurant that felt like a private venue. We had no music other than what the restaurant played. We did not dance (Paul hates dancing). We had the opportunity to sit at the tables and talk with everyone who attended – that is something none of our friends can say.

So, though our wedding may not have been the wedding I always dreamed of, it was quite perfect. 

BRIT

When I moved to Singapore a year and a half ago, I figured I would have a bit of culture shock. There were things I was going to need to learn, including a new language. I had a work colleague teach me to say, “Hello,” “Thank you,” and “Where is the toilet?” in Mandarin before I stepped onto the plane. In the last 18 months, I have used hello…..maybe once. I have used the thank you phrase only when being served dim sum or thanking an elderly person I just assume understands Mandarin. I have never once used the third phrase.

When I imagined myself living in a foreign country and endeavoring to learn a new language, I never in my life thought it would be English. However, at a typical Saturday night dinner with the Browns last month, I honestly felt like I was a complete fool in a foreign land.

Clare Brown, a proper British mum, was visiting from Mother England, sharing with me her stories and her cooking. On one occasion, Paul and I were visiting, sitting in the living room, and the three Brits just took off with words and phrases that were so unnatural, I was giving Paul crazy telepathic gazes like, “Ummm….did you get any of that?”

It started from the time we walked in the door. Several times throughout the evening, I found myself butting into the conversation.

“Excuse me,” I said, hand in the air, looking at Nicola. “What does [that] mean?"

Duncan could not even think of the American translation. Nicola did.

Before I knew it, we were hearing about snogging and taking the mickey out of someone. When Duncan’s mom was talking about boot sales – and I don’t mean a girl’s favorite fall accessory. Boot sales are the British versions of garage sales (by the way, “garage” rhymes with “carriage”) and, while learning about them, we heard about pounds and quid and p. It took me a few times to figure out that “p” referred to what I call pennies. But, in a conversation where expensive items are being sold for “50p,” how am I supposed to figure out that’s cents and not dollars? Or quid. The conversation continued and I learned that people would drive their cars into fields or parking lots and sell their no-longer-needed goods out of boots.

Where I come from, boots and bonnets go on people, not cars. We vacuum, not “hoover,” and we fall head over heels, not “ass over tit.” We don’t often say “li-trally.” “Chalk and cheese” are definitely two different things but we would never put them in the same phrase together. When we give someone the peace sign, it's the peace sign, not something derogatory. 

I don’t remember another dinner we spent laughing so much. We were definitely “happy as Larry” by the company and the conversation that evening. One more thing - who is Larry, and what makes him happy?

MY LIFE AS A FRIEND OF A BRIT

I had a fight with Nicola. It was a one-sided fight that involved me yelling at my phone every time a text message sounded. I only started yelling when our meeting time became earlier and earlier. Meeting there at 7, 6:30, 6:15, 6…6 at Starbucks instead of 6 on site. Can I just justify my rage by noting that all of these times were AM?

“What is she thinking?” I wondered as I imagined the two of us in an empty park before dawn. We had a plan. Correction: Nicola had a plan to wake up before dawn, leave our houses before dawn and arrive before dawn at Singapore’s newest outdoor attraction, Gardens by the Bay, in order to catch a glimpse of – and potentially meet – Prince William and his wife, Catherine.

On the one hand, I know all too well how Singaporeans are professional queuers. They can stand in line for hours, so getting there early could prove beneficial. However, just how early would we need to get there in order to obtain a prime spot? Was 6 a.m. too early? Would 7 have been better? The royal couple was slated to arrive at 10.

Well, it didn’t matter what I thought because Nicola is, of course, the British pro. She has had many occasions whereby she might catch a glimpse of the royal family, so she did know best.

Begrudgingly, I set my alarm for 5 a.m. I sent Paul, who was flying back from Phuket, Thailand, at the time, an e-mail before I went to bed so that he would know where I was when he awoke in the morning without me beside him.

When he did awake, Nic and I had already been at the park for more than an hour. He told me I was nuts. And, yes, I was, but not nearly as nuts as Nicola.

The girl could not stop squealing from the moment she heard they were coming into town. Fifty text messages within 12 hours!! I don’t know that I have heard her hyperventilate so often in such short time spans. Even my before-dawn cab driver got a kick out of her enthusiasm.

“Bugis Junction, please,” I said as I stepped in.

“O.K. Are you going there for work this early (5:45ish a.m.)?”

“No, sadly.”

“Haha, why ‘sadly’?”

“Well, you see, Prince William and Kate Middleton are in town and my British friend has sucked me into getting up before dawn to meet them this morning at a public event. Before we go, I mandated that we hit the 24-hour Starbucks at Bugis.”

Cue phone, vibrating, ringing and lighting up Nicola’s name.

“Hi, I was just talking about you.” The cab driver chuckled at my quip.

“Oh my God, I’m so excited! We’re going to go to the Gardens and meet Will and Kate today…” ramble, ramble, hyperventilate….ramble, hyperventilate.

I put the phone on speaker twice during our conversation so that my cab driver could hear exactly what I was dealing with. He laughed several times.

After hearing most of my conversation and, of course, everything I was saying, catching all of my sarcasm, I told Nic I was nearly there and that I would see her in a couple of minutes. I hung up the phone and said to him, “She’s not excited at all.”

When he dropped me at Bugis, he laughed one final time and said, “Thank you. This was a very enjoyable ride. Good luck. I hope you get to meet Will and Kate.” “Glad I could start your day off right,” I said and I exited the vehicle.

After a few moments of being trapped inside a dark, empty mall not knowing how to reach the Starbucks seen on the other side of the glass, we figured our way around. Nic was bright eyed and ready to order everything on the menu. Food and drinks in hand, we hopped into another cab to make our way to the Gardens while the sky was still dark.

The cab driver asked if there was an event at our destination because, let's be honest, the place would not technically open for several hours. "Yes," Nic said, smiling wide. "His Royal Highness Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge, Catherine Middleton are going to be at Gardens by the Bay this morning and there is a meet and greet." Yes, she did pull out the formal titles.

Two staff members driving a golf cart and yelling into a hand radio met us as we exited the cab. Nic advised that we were there to meet Will and Kate and asked if anyone else had arrived. “Yes,” one of the men answered. “Your colleagues are here but I am not sure where they went.” Yeah, we didn’t have any colleagues.

The man offered us a ride in his buggy and, before I could blink, Nic said, “Yeeees!” and jumped in. The man put the pedal to the medal as his passenger yelled “WAIT!” because I really did not have time to plant two feet on the ground. All good, though. No injuries.

The advantages of riding in a buggy with staff members were three fold: first, we did not have to walk; second, we were given a little tour of the area that proved to be gorgeous as everything was glowing with lights and, third, they dropped us in a prime location and told us exactly what would be happening once the royals arrived. Their plan turned out to be completely inaccurate, but they did drop us in the absolutely optimal spot.

Two other girls, university students on exchange programs from the U.K. and Canada, had arrived at 5:30.

According to the two Brits, if we were in England, people would have camped out all night. We, however, gazed around at the 0 people in sight.

Yes, that is the moon.

By 7, the place looked like this:

Yeah, still just the four of us at 7 a.m.

  

By 8, like this:

Yeah, we probably could have arrived at 8.

By 9 a fair amount of people showed and I stopped taking non-crowd photos. By 9 the sun had also arrived and we started the process of uncontrollable sweating. It just happened. There was no way to avoid it.

The excitement grew with the crowds. A group of British school children gathered next to us and started singing “God Save the Queen” and chanting, “Will, you’re bril’ (short for brilliant); Kate, you’re great!” Nicola had been announcing the wait time remaining every 15 minutes from 6 a.m. “Only 15 more minutes and then they’ll be here!” she said, smiling from ear to ear, jumping a little and waving her arms. That was my cue to switch from flip flops into mega heels, to sport a cropped jacket to cover my previously bare shoulders and to put on some lipstick.

Nic had briefed me on proper “meeting royals” attire. I needed a dress and heels: something simple, yet classy and something that would hide sweat. Job done.

As the hands on the clock moved farther passed 10, the crowd became more restless. Instead of chanting, “Will, you’re bril’; Kate, you’re great,” they began chanting, “Where are you, Will? Where are you, Kate?” “Come on!” one child yelled. “They’re late,” he squealed, the disappointment in his tone evident.

Some time around 10:30, the press ran in, carrying cameras of all kinds, so the crowd had another sense of false excitement. Closer to 11, the line of trams came around and the crowd started screaming. Finally, the royals had arrived. And where did they stop? Right in front of us, of course!

I was amazed as Prince William and Kate immediately stepped out of the tram and made their way to the awaiting crowd. As if in a movie, Kate made eye contact with Nicola and me and walked straight up to Nic, who had a small bouquet of purple orchids for the Duchess.

We all had a short conversation as Nic greeted the Duchess and presented the bouquet. “Oh, thank you,” Catherine said. “That’s very kind of you.” She made her way to me, smiled, chatted and shook hands, and then she made her way down the line.

The Duchess, carrying the orchids Nicola bought her

Kate, bending down to speak with a little girl from Wales, who also presented Kate with a small bouquet

The Prince started his way further to our left so we did not get to meet him, but he did appear very kind. He spoke to nearly everyone he approached.

We stood outside for more than five hours, watched the sun rise over the trees and had some fun with a couple university girls in the process. Then, within 10 minutes of seeing the royal couple, we began to make our way to the park’s exit. 

About half way, I realized we had gone the wrong way, but we did see the main road ahead so we just kept walking. Then, it happened. Nicola saw the flash of a police motorcycle approaching from behind. “Oh God,” she said. “Please don’t tell me they are coming this way.”

I looked back. “No, not yet. There will be a lot more police when they actually leave.” Less than a minute later, Nic checked over her shoulder. “Oh noooo!” she said, nervously. “They really are coming! What do we do? We need to stop.”

“What?!” I interrupted. “We can’t stop! We have to keep walking.”

“No, we can’t. We have to stop. They’re going to think we are sad walking by the side of the road.”

“But if we stand here, they will think we are stalking them.”

“Oh God, what do we do? Here.” She handed me the mini Singapore flag she was holding because, obviously, I did not deserve to hold the British flag.

The cars were seconds away from approaching and a bridge awaited us, so I knew we had to end the argument. “Fine,” I said. “We can stand here. But don’t wave the flag!”

So, we stopped, acted very nonchalant and turned just to see the cars passing by. Two young women, strolling the street on their own, down the secret exit that only the royal entourage was allowed to exit. Yes, we were accidental stalkers. We were hurried out to the main road as the security guards began closing the gates in front of us. 

Though we did start our day earlier than any I have ever started while living here, it was a great experience. I don't think we would have scored a better location if we had waited until after dawn to arrive. And, by standing outside for 6.5 hours, waiting to see the royal couple, I may have earned a spot as an honorary Brit.

FUN AGAIN

Now that September is in full swing, my life is becoming fun again. I talked to Katie this morning. She was telling me about her life and about her mom who is a newly-retired teacher. Vickie is enjoying her first September in decades that does not include a bunch of children in rows of desks. I wondered how she was doing in her first few weeks of retirement – not counting summer break, of course.

Turns out, she is doing just fine. She is cruising around on boats, lunching with friends, having dinner with fellow teachers – her calendar is full. “That sounds like my week,” I exclaimed, laughing.

This week is certainly one of those weeks that makes life fun again. For a while, I have been thinking about my lack of seeing and doing but this week, that is changing.

I am training for a 5k so, when I don’t feel like a lazy lard, I get outside and run. This morning I met my former walking group for a trek from Paya Lebar to the East Coast park and back up to I12 Katong Mall. I parted ways with the group at the mall since my house was one way and the end of the loop was the complete opposite. We walked 5 kilometers and then I finished with a walk/run for another 3.5 kilometers to my house – just as the rain drops fell from the clouds.

I forgot how much fun those group walks really are. I know the bus route from Paya Lebar to my house but I never – EVER – would have considered walking the distance. I was glad I rejoined the group after many weeks away.

Yesterday Nicola and I had some fun. We met at a neighborhood mall to stock up on crafty supplies – posters, markers, glue and plenty of glitter. We had an important mission: to channel the days of high school and college spirit events and pay homage to Singapore’s Paralympians who today returned from London.

We did great work and we were proud of our craftiness.

Everyone else at the event was impressed as well. We found ourselves quickly becoming celebrities as everyone wanted to see the signs. Once one person saw the signs, he or she would go grab another person to come see the signs. Why no one else thought to make signs I do not know but it did work out for our benefit.

Our celebrityness skyrocketed when I asked a local minister if I would be able to take a photo. I meant to ask him if I could just get a photo of the three men in front of me standing together and smiling but then he asked about the signs and, before we knew it, Nicola, Rosemary and I were standing with our signs in front of the minister and his team.

Larry, our RDA photographer on hand, started to take a couple shots. Then, suddenly, as if Will and Kate had appeared behind us, the crowd emerged and flashes abounded from all directions. In Nicola’s words, “It was a true paparazzi moment.”

We had a great time welcoming home the Paralympians, three of which represented the RDA in addition to Singapore in the equestrian events. Singapore’s sole medals, a silver and a bronze, were obtained by Laurentia Tan in the equestrian events. We also celebrated Max Tan’s and Gemma Foo’s incredible performances; we have worked with them several times leading up to this year’s Paralympic games and were thrilled to welcome them and their family members home. 

 Joining the Paralympians on their flight were the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Will and Kate did not arrive through the same doors – they were greeted at a VIP terminal – but that did not stop local fans from lining the arrival area, desiring to see the royal couple.

Though I am absolutely not sure how, the royal couple disembarked their overnight flight direct from London looking absolutely perfect in unwrinkled clothing and not a hair out of place.

They attended a ceremony at the National Orchid Garden where they were introduced to a new hybrid orchid named just for them; they were also introduced to an orchid created and named for Princess Diana, who did not get to see the orchid before her death.

Nicola was so excited about the royals’ arrival that I have about 50 text messages between the two of us on my phone within a period of 12 hours – and that is NOT an exaggeration.

Because of her excitement and her ability to throw away anything remotely American when it comes to the royal family and show all of her British pride, we are going to be true Singaporeans tomorrow and stand in a line for hours on end so that we can see Will and Kate in person. This is my life as a friend of a Brit.

CELEBRATE

My birthday is coming and I cannot seem to not plan. I picked a venue, I have a cake design in mind, I am planning the invitation. Nothing can stand in my way. Nothing, that is, except my husband. “I thought I would take you to dinner at the Italian restaurant with Nic and Duncan,” he said the other day. My heart sank and then melted. I was so consumed by my own planning that I had not considered my husband would have something in mind. I love that idea. I think that is a fabulous idea. But I still want a big party with a big cake and 30 blazing candles.

I get a little over-excited about my birthday the older I become. I think it has to do with the amazing kid parties my brother and I used to have. All of our friends would come over, my mom would cook and bake the most amazing goodies. We played lots of games, opened lots of presents and everyone went home with prize bags. The parties dwindled as we got into school and family birthdays were celebrated less and less as we aged.

In 1984, my soon-to-be little brother encroached on my territory and was nearly born on my birthday. Since we are only three dates apart, we had a lot of joint parties growing up. I don’t think I always liked the joint party idea but maybe I was young enough to accept the party sharing philosophy.

I don’t remember any birthdays after I started school. I remember my mom making sugar cookies shaped like pumpkins that my brother and I would take into our classes, but I don’t remember doing that after the first grade. I remember going to sleepovers at my friends’ houses, but I do not remember having sleepovers at my own house. My 13^th birthday is blank. My Sweet 16 was nothing. I think I had dinner and cake with my family. My 18^th birthday…no, nothing.

I took my first shot on my 20^th birthday. My dorm roommates across the hall gave me a lemon drop in an effort to corrupt me. It was my first alcoholic beverage. I liked it but not enough to add drinking to my list of hobbies. I was a good girl.

On my 21^st birthday, my university celebrated homecoming. For most people, that would have been fun. In my college town, however, it was more like a nightmare. My town had 5,000 people when school was in session; no one in Ada, Ohio, lived in Ada, Ohio, without a connection to the university. When I was there, we had one bar on Main Street – the Regal Beagle.

Homecoming weekend meant a lot of people – a lot of alumni – and a lot of bouncers who were not so keen on letting in underage people like they did any other day of the week. Since I was the first in my off-campus house to turn 21, none of my housemates could go with me.

Luckily, Paul was in town.

This is funny for anyone who knows me because Paul does not drink. He hates bars, he hates loud music and he hates crowds. Luckily, he was madly in love with me at the time so he agreed to go to the bar with me so that I could have my traditional first drink.

It took an hour to get from the door to the bar inside and, if you can imagine how small the town was, you can imagine how small the bar was – it was just that packed. When I finally made it through the mosh pit to the wood-topped bar, I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. I am not sure why I chose this to be my first drink and, after my first sip, I regretted the decision. It tasted like vomit. I was highly disappointed. We left.

Paul made it up to me with a nice dinner and a very special card. I hope I never forget the scene. We were seated in the living room of my sorority house. The room was light, with soft, cream carpet and cream-colored furniture – a sectional and a couple chairs.

Paul sat on one side of the room and I sat facing him against the far wall. He had my gift in a bag on the floor and he pulled out a card. He then opened the card, took the time to read the card right in front of me, laughing at what was written. Then he signed the card, slid it back into its yellow envelope, licked the seal and threw the card across the room.

When I opened the still slobbery envelope, I saw “A BIRTHDAY POEM FOR YOU” was written at the top.

“You make me chuckle happily

and grin from ear to ear,

each moment that I check you out

and gaze upon your rear.

And when I see your sparkling eyes

my heart is filled with joy,

my blood starts pumping faster

and my hormones cry ‘OH BOY!’

Whenever I lock lips with you

or touch your face and hands,

activity increases in my reproductive glands.

Every time I’m in your arms,

I’m thinkin’ ‘This is sweet!’

‘Cause you’re the special someone

who has made my life complete!

Love You…

Happy Birthday!”

When I was young, my mom did a good job making birthdays fun. Paul made birthdays fun again. 

KEEP IT INTERESTING

I went to an AWA coffee this morning and sat next to a woman new to Singapore who said that there wasn’t much to do here. “Are you kidding?” I interrupted. “I have lived here for a year and a half and I still have a ton of things I want to do.” And then I thought about all the things I still want to do.

I have been thinking about my lack of exploration recently, but yesterday, Paul’s grandmother confirmed my theory that I had pretty much given up on doing anything fun. We were speaking to her on the phone and, when she asked what we had been up to, we both replied with, “Nothing, really.” Then we got lectured. Not really, but she was surprised that we had not done anything storyworthy since we last spoke.

When we finished our conversation and started to say good-bye, she got that grandmotherly, semi-scolding tone in her voice and said, “Well, get the hell out of the house and go do something so you will have something to tell me next time.” And there it was – proof that I have pretty much given up on being adventurous in my own town.

Last fall I thought we would head to Pulau Ubin, an island included in Singapore’s territory. A downfall at the time was the rising tide. It was made clear to me that the best time to see the wildlife on the underdeveloped island is at low tide and the lowest tides are observed mid-summer. So I waited. June came and went; so did July. Now August is over and we still have not been.

Until yesterday, I seemed to have forgotten all about my desire to go to Haw Par Villa, an old family plantation-style home with thousands of sculptures on the now public grounds. I want to go walk the grounds and take photos of the truly unique pieces and then, of course, write about them.

Some time ago I took a tour with the American women. While it was not an ideal tour and I can’t say that I liked it, I did get to visit new parts of the island that are quite far from my home. I wanted to venture back to the Punggol area, an old fishing village that is striving to be the next up-and-coming neighborhood with a new park and several high-end, under-construction condos.

I even consulted Trip Advisor last month to see if I was missing anything. The good news is that I have done most of the top 100, but I definitely have more things to see.

Paul and I bought tickets to the Jurong Bird Park at the beginning of the year but we never ended up going. I have wanted to see the Chinese and Japanese Gardens and we talked about going to the planetarium, but they are all on the west side of the island. We have yet to see the completed Gardens by the Bay now that the park is officially open. I would like to learn to cook Singaporean food so that when our time to leave comes, I will still be able to enjoy my favorite dishes…or maybe I will just find a really good Chinese place with a hidden menu. Speaking of Chinese stuff, I want to take the Red Lantern tour of Chinatown.

I did sign up today for two very exciting adventures. One is a tour about Singapore’s original trades and the people who continue the master crafts today. I also signed up for a beginner’s sailing course, and I am truly excited. The AWA has partnered with a local sailing association that will teach Paul and me how to sail.

September is officially the month dedicated to doing. I am going to do more, see more and have more fun. After all, I only have a few more weeks to celebrate my 20s.