WE ALL WANDERED AROUND

Nothing can make me feel like a tourist like invading someone’s space and taking endless photos. Throughout our tour of Singapore’s traditional trades, I constantly felt like I was in the way – in the way of fellow tour goers, in the way of the people tirelessly working and in the way of people who actually came into the shops to purchase items.

Stop three on our tour was to an incredible place in Ang Mo Kio, just up the road from the Joss Stick Man, that specializes in constructing funeral offerings. In the Chinese culture, when a person dies, the family holds a ceremony that includes the burning of paper money, cars and homes, among other things, so that the ancestors will live comfortably in the afterlife.

We walked into a warehouse and were immediately taken aback by the structures and bright colors that greet us. Shiny, bright-colored and sometimes metallic paper glistened in the sunlight breaking through the front entrance. Paper crafts were just coming together as we walked onto the main floor; drying crafts hung from the rafters and finished items were stored up in the loft.

Families can pay thousands of dollars for a masterpiece that can take weeks to create. We were advised that one house in progress cost $8,000 and would take two weeks to complete. While I completely respect culture, I’m not going to lie – my brain went to, “You’re going to spend $8,000 on an elaborate piece like this and then set the thing on fire and watch it burn?!”

A wood frame is first cut and bound together with small strips of paper wound around each joint. Once the bones are completed and al joints are secured, the structure can be covered with various colored paper. A handmade glutinous rice paste is used to attach the paper to the wooden posts and to secure the layers of paper and decorative pieces.

Because the houses are built on stilts, while constructing the multi-level houses also burned on the anniversaries of the ancestors’ death, crafters stand on stools to create their masterpieces.

Our final traditional trade landed us at a local bakery in an area of Singapore I had only recently discovered. The shop is located near China Road in an area just east of Chinatown. This streetside location with goodies for sale along the sidewalk was definitely a spot where, no matter where I stood, I was in someone’s way.

We had the chance to enter the kitchen where just a few workers raced to make special cookies filled with a variety of flavors. The dough was kneaded through a machine, torn into tiny pieces and folded, then filled once from a block of tasty chewy paste (I like the mung bean paste), rolled, filled again, rolled again and then baked on massive baking trays.

The pastry dough, once cooked, is extremely flaky. Each of us joked about the mess we were leaving on the sidewalk. Our guide kept purchasing bags and bags of goodies so that we could try as many local sweets as possible. I cannot possibly remember all of them, nor was I able to take pictures thanks to a dead camera battery, but I did have the opportunity to taste a few. I declined a couple because of the potential sugar overload, but I do remember eating a very light, tan, transparent cookie that really surprised me.

Honeycomb, the tour guide stated, was a great treat, especially for children. She remembered eating the cookies all the time as a kid. If I were a kid, I would eat them all the time as well. In fact, I might buy a bag of them the next time I find myself in a local bake shop. They tasted like airy, crispy, fried funnel cake chips. One bite was not enough.

And that, my friends, concludes the tour of some of Singapore’s traditional businesses, most of which will likely die with the family members who are currently keeping the businesses running. The sad truth is that most of the traditional trades are family-run enterprises and most of Singapore’s original trades have died after a few generations either as the family members die or as younger generations choose to pursue more modern careers.

I am glad I took the tour because my eyes were certainly opened. This was a great way to celebrate Birthday Week. 

SINGAPORE’S TRADITIONAL TRADES

I do not often sign up for tours in my own country but, occasionally, I like to play tourist in my hometown. I did the same thing in America (love the Boston Duck and Trolley tours, by the way). I recently took a tour that focused on Singapore’s traditional trades, many of which are slowly dying with the families that run the operations.

The first stop on the tour was a practically-hidden shop on River Valley Road. The River Valley neighborhood, situated south of Orchard and north of Robertson Quay, is known for the Singapore River that runs through. The area is a very relaxed environment with plenty of greenery, shop houses and sidewalk restaurants.

We drove down the main road and stopped in a section of the neighborhood I recognized but never really spent much time. Situated between two sets of shop houses, set 50 meters or so from the road, was a garage-type shop that was filled from floor to ceiling in Asian art pieces.

On one side, large drums sit on the floor, gongs hang from display racks and stringed instruments drape from the ceiling.

The front counter holds rice paper fans and decorative pieces. Behind the counter are martial arts and defense weapons.

Statues, lanterns and home décor items are placed around the shop.

Mr. Eng from Eng Tiang Huat first showed us some elaborate Chinese opera costumes, masks and hair pieces.

The fabrics are so bright and intricate. They were absolutely beautiful! 

He also demonstrated the sounds and procedures for playing some traditional Asian instruments, including an Erhou, Gao-Hu, drums, cymbals and gongs.

Stop number two on the tour of four trades was our old friend the Joss Stick Man. With Hungry Ghost month over and the Spirit Festival quickly approaching, the owner was not very keen on a group of expat women flooding his shop at one of the busiest times of year. That left our tour guide to explain the process while we all wandered around the shop taking photos.

The joss sticks are made from cinnamon tree powder and sawdust.
When mixed with water, the powder makes a molding clay.

Joss sticks vary in size, width and color. 

THE EXPAT COMMUNITY

On occasion, people back in the U.S. ask about what it’s like to be an expat in Singapore. I advise that life is interesting and, though Singapore is a foreign country, it is a very modern country. English is the common language, which makes life a little easier, but we still have to decipher a world of accents. There have been adjustments in regards to living conditions, cost of living (and groceries and restaurants and clothes and everything else) and managing time. Making friends was difficult at first but, 18 months later, I know I am in a great place.

It took me a long time to make friends and it took me even longer to truly settle in to a solid group. Now I have many groups. I like it. I need people.

I was fortunate enough to have one set of friends from the moment Paul and I landed. Tiffany and her husband came from Cincinnati / Northern Kentucky and have decided to make Singapore their permanent home. They have been here something like five years and even had a child here last year. They were so kind to take us in, introduce us to the island and catch up on a regular basis just to be sure we were settling in. I could not be more thankful.

I do not remember how I found out about the American Women’s Association but I feel like someone told me about it while we were still in the U.S. I decided against joining right away because I refused to pay the membership fee for a three-month membership. I waited until the new fee year commenced before I attended my first event: Just Coffee – a great, non-threatening, non-scheduled, non-aggressive group that literally sits outside a Starbucks, drinks coffee and tea and just chats about anything and everything. How relaxing!

After my initial coffee date, I was convinced to join the organization. I thought that I would just join for a year and see what happened. If it wasn’t worth it, I did not have to renew.

So after more than a year in the organization, how do I describe AWA expat wife land? Two words: high school. Or maybe: college sorority since I have to pay for membership and then I have to pay to do everything else.

There are political wives who run for office, overachiever wives who get involved in absolutely everything and high-class wives who can afford to see and do everything they want whenever they want. There are the know-it-alls and the know-everyones. There are career-driven wives who focus more on work than having a good time, party-going wives who focus more on having a good time than anything else. And then there are the wives that I most relate to – in high school I referred to the group as “the B class” – friendly, fun-loving, interesting – a real balance of fun and seriousness. We are the popular group without all the drama.

While some women seem terrified to make strong friendships because of the possibility and likelihood of packing up and moving on quickly, my group takes advantage of turning short-term friends into life-long pals. After all, we really don’t know how long we will all be here, right?

With this group, I have enjoyed coffee sessions where a dozen and a half women sit outside a Starbucks and have a relaxing chat and story-swapping session, sailing lessons where we work together to get where we need to go and island tours like the one I took last week where we learned all about Singapore’s signature trades.

THE LOGIC HERE

I have decided that living in a new country has allowed me to gain some perspective. I know, I know – duh. But seriously, over the last year, I have had the opportunity to experience more of life in the working world, and I have learned that there are some things that make me realize we are certainly not in Kansas anymore.

First lesson: Job searching on my own just isn’t working

I need to find an agency. I know this because the only expat wives with jobs that I know used an agency to find their position. Nicola, on the extreme end, decided to join forces with something like eight agencies. Yes, she might be crazy, but she is certainly dedicated. And, because she worked with so many firms, she discovered that most companies in Singapore only hire through recruitment companies, unlike in America.

When I began my career, I moved to a city without a job. Let me just say that signing a lease on an apartment before having a paycheck is a big motivator to find a job. So I found three. One of those jobs was working for a temp service that provided me an opportunity to work short-term jobs at varying industries, which was great because it gave me a chance to see where I might best fit.

Working in the temp sector led to my first post-graduate full-time job. I began as a member of the marketing team for a commercial real estate firm after working a two-week assignment, filling a vacancy for a team member who was getting married. When a full-time position opened up, I was contacted for an interview and then was offered the role. However, because I was discovered through the agency, the agency received a portion of my salary, which hurt me and my negotiating power in the end.

Knowing the fees would be an issue, I opted not to use a recruiting agency in Singapore. I found interesting positions, beefed up my credentials and started applying. I have applied for about 60 positions over the last year and have not had any success outside of personal connections. Nicola was hired into an incredible position in a top-notch company within six weeks. Apparently I need an agency.

When I searched for jobs, I found only a handful of positions offered through specific companies – nearly all postings were associated with a recruiting firm. Nicola advised that even when she attempted to apply directly with companies, she was advised to apply with a specific recruiting firm. O.K. Lesson learned. Recruiting agency, here I come.

Second lesson: No question is off limits

Human resources standards in Singapore are pretty much non-existent. There are no filters and no regulations that limit the hiring committee when interviewing potential employees. Curricula vitae, the alternative to American résumés, should contain very personal information such as age, birth date, personal identification numbers, citizenship information, hobbies and interests.

The most popular questions I and my friends have received when participating in interviews are as follows:

• What does your husband do?
• How long are you here?
• Are you applying for permanent residency?
• Why do you want this job?
• Do you realize we are not going to pay you what you made in the U.S. (I paraphrase but, yes, I have been asked a very similar question)
• When do you plan to have babies?

Third lesson: Everyone else cares more about my baby plans than I do

Paul and I made it three years into our marriage before anyone asked us about babies. Now, slowly, more and more questions are popping into everyday conversations. Paul thinks it should be illegal for anyone – including our family members – to ask when we are having babies and, in America, it is certainly illegal for a potential employer to ask an interviewee about religious or political beliefs, age, relationship preferences and family planning issues.

Maybe it’s because Singapore’s government is pushing to raise the birth rate; maybe it’s because Singapore, as a culture, is very family oriented. Whatever the reason, I reeeeaaaaallly want to reply with, “Um, none of your business!”

Fourth lesson: I don’t have to actually qualify for the job in order to be offered the job

Paul’s job-seeking philosophy is simple: apply for everything whether or not you qualify. He is not concerned with who will be seeing his credentials or what people will think of him when they consider his application. I, on the other hand, put a lot of focus on what people will think when they read my qualifications.

On two occasions, I have been offered interviews. In both cases, I had a personal connection to the companies, which immensely helped. I sat through the interviews, was surprised when the interviews escalated to the next level and then was taken aback when I received offers. In the first instance, when asked if I was interested in the position, I clearly stated that I was interested in the offer, leaving a Grand Canyon-sized distance between me and my potential new role. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure I wanted the job but the offer just confirmed my feelings.

Again, I had several reasons for turning down my second offer but one strong point is my lack of belief in my ability to truly do the job required. I know that there have to be other people out there more qualified than I but, in both cases, desperation on the part of the companies won over their judgment.

Fifth lesson: Local people do not think highly of expat wives

I am a career-minded woman, but I have learned to adapt to a more reasonable expat wife lifestyle. By that I mean I do not have the money to spend thousands of dollars on clothing, purses, shoes, dinners, balls and trips all over the world. I can afford coffee dates, a few lunches and enjoy volunteering.

I am grateful at the many opportunities I am afforded by volunteering for the RDA. One year ago, I knew nothing about the English way of riding and I knew nothing about horse therapy. To date I have served in almost every available position except stable staff. I have been in the arena, grooming the horses, exercising the horses, managing sessions, coordinating sessions, visiting schools and collaborating with global equine therapy programs on best practice initiatives.

In some people’s opinion, I am an exception. It has been made clear on more than a few occasions that most expat wives have never worked a day in their life and, therefore, they have no idea how to do things. I don’t know where this perception comes from but I have to say that the government doesn’t exactly help in educating people about the jobs expat wives really do.

I am here because of my husband. Our bank account was opened in my husband’s name. All of our bills are in Paul’s name. I could not have a cell phone service representative give me information about my own phone – I had to wake up my husband from a sleep during the night and have him give the guy on the other end of the phone verbal permission to tell me how to activate my own phone. This is not an environment where the wives of the important pass holders are held in high esteem.

Even today on a bus, a local man sat next to me and talked my ear off about a number of subjects, including, of course, the upcoming election. At one point he mentioned that Romney’s wife, Ann, was a great speaker “for a housewife.” I decided to pipe in and advise him that American housewives, specifically those in high-powered families, have a full-time job as a housewife. They often attach themselves to charities, donate time and money, serve on boards, host functions – and raise their family. The same is true here in Singapore – at least in the expat community.

UNBELIEVABLE.

As an expat, I realized early on that I would have to adapt to another culture. In Singapore, I am constantly reminded that the way I do things is not necessarily the norm and, no matter how many times I may be frustrated, this culture is not my norm but I have to accept it. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The people who cut me off and push people out of their way to get onto a bus or an escalator or a train are annoying, yes. And, sometimes, like this morning, I want to tap the auntie on her head, pull her back from her primo spot by the collar of her shirt and guide her to the back of the line while I wave my finger at her, tell her how it was incredibly rude of her to shove her way through me and passed an elderly gentlemen and make her wait until everyone else boarded the already crowded bus with no seats for her. Not cool. But, I get over it. It’s a small battle in a massive world. Breathe.

Then there are days like the past few when I just have to chuckle and go with it.

Two days ago I was enjoying a very productive morning. I awoke early, had a short chat with Paul’s mom (I popped in on the ongoing conversation and then left somewhere in the middle), stopped a Starbucks, met a friend at a local wet market and then stopped at my neighborhood shopping center to get the grocery items I can only retrieve from the grocery store.

On my way out of the mall, I began humming along to the song playing throughout the speaker system. “Fa la la la la, la la la la….” I was singing in my head. Then I stopped, gave my own curiously frustrated look and thought: “Oh my goodness, that’s a Kenny G Christmas!” The date was October 1. I guess when I live in a country that does not truly celebrate Halloween or Thanksgiving that Christmas really is the next major holiday. But what about all the Hari Raya holidays and Deepavali? They are in October, I know they are!

The funny part is that we had just attended a neighborhood Mid-Autumn Festival two days prior. For those who follow the Northern Hemisphere’s seasons, the Mid-Autumn Festival occurred exactly one week after autumn was half-globally declared. One week after this half of the world’s autumnal season, apparently it is time for Christmas. Does anyone else understand the logic here?

I ALWAYS DREAMED

I remember a primary school writing assignment – it had to have been in the fourth grade. I was 10. My classmates and I sat in a room in the still-new Black Fox Elementary School in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and listened as the teacher advised us that we were to write about what life would be like in 20 years.

Since I had lost all imagination years before, I wrote about a practical life. I remember reading aloud, stating that I would be 30. I would be married and would likely have two children. That’s all I remember. I have no idea what I said my profession would be or what career level I would have achieved. I remember that most of my classmates took the assignment seriously and only a couple people went crazy creative.

One kid, the tall, lanky guy with glasses who, at the time, was a bit of a geek but is likely now gorgeous and successful, started talking about how cars would be flying. I knew someone would write about that, but I also knew that 20 years was way too soon for that idea to actually come to fruition.

He talked about aliens, too. His name was Allan. The teacher was thrilled when he started spilling his ideas of how our world would evolve so quickly to a world not unlike our friends’, the Jetsons. “It’s about time!” the teacher said, smiling and wide eyed, interrupting Allan’s storytelling. When he finished, she gave us a bit of a non-threatening lecture about being more adventurous in our creative writing initiatives. I didn’t realize we were supposed to make up a life. I was a realist. I wrote about the logical path I thought I would take, though I do remember it was quite boring. I just figured this was another one of those made-from-recycled paper, jumbo-script pages that my mom would keep and I would later compare to my actual life.

The truth is that I have no idea whether or not my mother kept that page. Mom, if you do have it, e-mail me a copy so that we can conduct a case study.

When I dreamed of my life, as a 10-year-old striving to see myself at 30, I dreamed of practicality. I would be married. Check. I would have been a mom. Uncheck. I think I probably wrote that I would be home with my kids. Double uncheck. I know I thought I would be living in America. Super uncheck. I am pretty sure I wrote that I would have a dog. I’m not going there – no comments about the girlfriend, please.

It’s funny how a practical line starting at one point in life can turn into an unpredictable line with a hyphen, some parentheses, an ellipsis and a question mark at the end…maybe even something that looks like the edge of a cliff.

Instead of writing about flying cars and kids, I should have written that I would be living in some crazy place like Asia. I should have written about how I would have travelled to many countries, would be attending Formula 1 races and flying in planes with my husband, would have friends literally all over the world and how I would have the ability to talk to people over the Internet – which had just really come into play at that time – for free. THAT would have been an unbelievable story.