MARCH MADNESS

While Ohio State and Michigan fight for spots in the Final Four, I am experiencing my own version of March Madness in my house. Since we returned from PNG, Paul has gone crazy with his “make a list and get everything done right now so that it can just be done” mentality. I nearly freaked out yesterday.

We had been making a list of the things we needed to do for the last week but some of that depended upon where we would be living, so we hadn’t really done anything that we need to do to prepare for two big moves. Thursday evening we returned home in time for bed.

Friday morning, at some point, Paul turned on the television and noticed that the cable box had not activated. He went to the entertainment center to investigate. After a few minutes of prodding, pulling plugs and playing with switches, he determined that the plug leading to the cable box had died so he decided to go to StarHub in search of a replacement.

I was awfully sick, having woken at 5:30 with what I called the wrath of PNG and what Paul referred to as PNG withdrawal, so at the time I had absolutely no care in the world for television. Let’s just say that in 10+ years, Paul had never seen me like that, he was amazing and that he definitely earned his “in sickness and in health” badge.

He returned with a smile on his face. “I cancelled our service!” he said. “And the land line.” I laughed. “What?”

“Well, I went in and I explained to the guy that this part was broken and then I asked for a replacement. He told me that our cable box was an old model that they no longer serviced so we needed to pay to upgrade to a new box. So I told him to just cancel our service and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. So then I said, ‘While you’re at it, cancel our land line as well. I am going to hang on to the Internet for another week but then I will be canceling that, too.’ Haha. You should have seen his face.”

Once he returned, he morphed into the handyman as quickly as Superman changed his clothes. He began banging on the sink with a hammer as he attempted to dislodge the water filter that I had so amazingly attached two years prior. Apparently I put it on there pretty tight because it took well over five minutes and a few tools to get it loose.

The next thing I knew he was cutting the power to the house and fixing our doorbell. That was funny. He shut off a few breakers – the ones controlling the front of the house – and he walked outside. He removed the doorbell cover, attached a couple wires and the doorbell started sounding.

“Hey! Nice work,” I shouted. That doorbell has been broken for well over a year.

He pushed open the large wood door and popped his head into the living room. “Was that our doorbell?”

”Uh, yes.”

”Oh. The funny thing is, I thought I shut off the power out here.” And he came back inside and shut off the power to the entire house.

He walked back outside and again I heard the doorbell going off. He came back inside. “Well, I guess it’s on a separate breaker altogether.” I heard clicking associated with restoring power to the entire house and again playing around with breaker switches to figure out which one controlled the dinger.

He eventually gave up and decided that the bell switch was broken. “I’m off again to get a new doorbell and an attachment for the sink. I’ll be back!”

This was weird.

He returned with what he needed and, indeed, restored the doorbell and the sink to normal operations. I was proud of my handyman.

Saturday I was feeling better so Paul decided it was on! Target one: moving companies. Paul called no less than six companies in such a rush that if they didn’t answer, he didn’t call back. He immediately booked three same-day appointments, one for Monday and one for Tuesday, which he stated he would likely cancel because it was too late.

I looked at the clock and noted that it was 10 a.m. and the first guy was slated to arrive at 10:30, so I jumped in the shower, annoyed. The first guy was late; he arrived about five minutes before the second guy so it was obvious we were shopping for the best deal.

While these appointments were getting sorted, Paul arranged for the aic con service men to come that afternoon as well and I contacted the Salvation Army to see if they would be willing to pick up all of our living room furniture.

We took a break for lunch to head to the bank to discuss our accounts but the line was too long so we went to Subway and then I headed to the grocery while Paul went home to meet the air con guys and another moving company representative, scheduled for the same time.

I popped into my favorite neighborhood butcher to see if any Sunday dinner ideas popped into my head and all of a sudden I realized the next day was Easter Sunday. OMG I can’t believe the entire week disappeared. I was supposed to make baskets and dye eggs with Nicola. If tomorrow is Easter then I have to make lamb! Where’s the lamb?

I saw the lamb. The legs were more than $70 so I opted for the cheaper option and got two smaller leg chunks without the bone. I know, bone in is better but Paul won’t have a paycheck for two months so I thought I would be a little cost conscious.

As I was purchasing the lamb, I called Nicola. “You’re coming over for Easter dinner tomorrow.” I didn’t even ask. “O.K.,” she replied. “I’m going to go so that I don’t tell you anything I’m not supposed to,” and she hung up. She was planning my surprise party that had already been foiled by both Nicola and my husband the day earlier.

Once finished with the butcher, I had to figure out what else I would be serving besides lamb. We had been in PNG since Monday and then I was sick Friday so I hadn’t even thought about an Easter menu. Potatoes and they all love broccoli…..Appetizer? What could I do? Should I even make one? What about dessert? I won’t lie, I stood in the baking aisle looking at the boxed stuff for inspiration – I was that desperate.

I had chocolate stuff at home, not a lot of flour. Heck, now that I write this, I don’t even know if I have enough sugar. Thank GOD, I just found some hiding in the cupboard! O.K., O.K. I am in a calm place of zen, right Nic?

I finally determined that I did not need appetizers, I would make a salad. People could hate me later. The dessert would be a springy lemon cake with a buttercream icing. Simple, light and oh so delicious.

I returned home, only forgetting two things on my list, and got the kitchen sorted. Nic wanted to meet me at 4 for mani-pedis so I had less than two hours to do what I needed to do at home, shower and make myself beautiful for my party because I was informed that I would not have time to come home and shower after. Yes, as it turns out, I would have.

So I dropped the cake idea thinking I could do that before church and I decided to just do the eggs without Nicola. After washing and placing a dozen eggs in a pot to boil, I heard the dreaded popping sound. I knew that I should have placed the eggs in a muffin tin in the oven but I thought that would take too long so I went with the traditional method. And I got six eggs out of 10 (we don’t get eggs by the dozen here, I don’t know why).

I followed the instructions on the dye kit and hurriedly dyed my six eggs. I tossed them into the fridge and jumped into the shower.

Paul has told me that I am not allowed to make any plans on Monday or Tuesday because he is leaving Tuesday and we still have a lot to do. We are going to attempt to do the bank thing again today or tomorrow. Monday we will be at the doctor for Paul’s work physical and to see if I need to do anything in the next week or if my April follow-ups can wait until June.

We have submitted forms to the Salvation Army for our donation of a living room set that’s not even close to a set and to the curtain cleaning people because according to our lease we must have eight sets of curtains – priced by the kilo mind you – dry cleaned and replaced before we move out.

We have to cancel all of our accounts, which I leave to Paul because I don’t know a single one of them. We need the handyman we called to fix an interior door to come back this week with the missing part. I need to submit some work expenses. Paul has a final meeting with his boss. And then Paul leaves Tuesday, leaving me to deal with the dirty work. Paul leaves in three days. Crazy.

THREE DAYS IN PAPUA NEW GUINEA

This week we traveled to the land of the Village People to see the home of Paul’s new airplane and experience what life might be like in Papua New Guinea. Though we weren’t able to obtain a completely accurate opinion in three days, I can tell you that Paul will be fine living there and I will be fine not living in PNG.

Since PNG is, to my friends and family members, more foreign than Singapore, I know the typical questions. What was it like? Did you see where you are going to live? Were you OK? I will get to that, I promise. But first, I will start at the beginning.

When Paul accepted his new position a few weeks ago, he was advised that the company should be able to arrange a visit so that we could see the area and take a look at where we would live. We had both done our research – Paul on message boards, I surfing the blogs – and we decided PNG wouldn’t be as bad as we had originally anticipated. Neither of us, however, was absolutely sold on the idea of moving.

Last week we confirmed that we would be scheduled to fly over the weekend and spend a few days in the capital, Port Moresby. We received confirmation that we would be flying out Saturday evening on the overnight flight, so we did what we needed to do during the day and then we each packed a bag. By 9 p.m. we still had not received our tickets. At 10 p.m. we just decided that we would not be flying out that night, since our flight was scheduled to depart in just over an hour.

We had received approval for the flight but we didn’t receive the tickets, which meant that we would try again for the next flight, in two days’ time. We left our mostly-packed bags mostly packed and Monday afternoon, we received our tickets for the evening flight.

I have to say that Air Niugini had the most economy leg room I have ever experienced and Paul and I were seated in a two-seat section so we were quite happy. Uncomfortable seats, announcements on the intercom and flight staff waking us twice on our 6.5-hour flight for food prevented us from getting much sleep, so we were pretty thankful when our expat friend greeted us at the airport and told us to take it easy that first day.

Our first view of Papua New Guinea was blue waters that rested upon shallow sands. Then we saw varying colors of green rolling at first easily and then more robustly across the land that was covered in trees. Unlike most places I have been, this land was mostly untouched.

As we approached the airport, a few buildings and places that appeared to be home sites appeared. The capital city is compact, meaning the city is clustered in one general area, but the buildings and neighborhoods are quite spread out. In my drive around the city, there did not appear to be a town center or shopping district; buildings just stood where they stood.

We stayed in a hotel that was certainly luxurious for its surroundings. The walls were white, the floors were dark wood and all of the public doors were glass. There were separate lounges and separate wings for like guests – standard rooms, executive rooms and suites. There were two restaurants and two cafés. One café and one restaurant had such limited menus that I think we would quickly get tired of our options but the food was good. Another café did not have a set menu – items like croissants, cupcakes and cookies filled the trays as they were made throughout the day. The coffee was not awful but it did make me miss Starbucks (Starbucks being the lowest standard – I do love the small cafés because their coffee is typically better quality).

Our room was large and beautiful; we each had our own beds and the bathroom had more square footage than our living room.

Named The Airways Hotel, nearly every decoration had an aircraft theme – the check in desk was a wing, the fans were shaped like propellers and a giant airplane hung outdoors.

If you look closely, you will see one of the security guard's carrying a shot gun at the hotel entrance

This decoration hangs just underneath one of the restaurants' patio

We slept most of the first day and we were grateful to have had the ability to do so; Paul was advised that the work could wait until the next morning. We had a late lunch post-morning nap in one of the cafés. Paul was eager to dive into his chicken parm sandwich, a favorite of his that just happened to be the daily lunch feature, until the sandwich arrived with mayonnaise on both ends of the bun. Poor Paul. I can’t say we’re not used to it – people put mayo on almost everything on this side of the world, even when it doesn’t make sense. I had a chicken pesto sandwich on honey oat bread and it was really good. The chicken had the flavor of the grill and it was tender – no mayonnaise, I checked.

Pesto tastes great. I love it on sandwiches, in pasta and as a sidekick to bread at an evening meal. My problem, however, is that I never seem to have an instance when a piece of the basil doesn’t get stuck in my teeth. Paul thought it was hilarious.

After we ate, we went back to the hotel room and I brushed my teeth before our second nap. We went back up to the restaurant later that evening to meet a fellow blogger I had e-mailed after Paul accepted the job offer. Moments before she was to arrive, Paul informed me that the infamous pesto was still stuck between my two front teeth. Awesome. I was conscious of the little fleck throughout our conversation but I tried my best to not let it get to me.

Rebecca was a nice girl. She turns 30 in a few days and works in PR so I knew we had a couple things in common. She was a beautiful woman who seemed to live a posh lifestyle. She was well dressed and carried herself confidently. We were interrupted by passersby three times in the hour so it was clear that she was friendly and well-liked.

She told us that it was her job, not her boyfriend’s, that brought the couple to PNG nearly two years ago and that she had actually been begging to move to PNG for years before her company gave her the opportunity. She likes the area and enjoys the friends that she has made. She likes living in the hotel’s residences and compared her current life to the style of life in her hometown of Melbourne, Australia.

One of the perks of working for a global corporation is her ability to have a car service whenever she needs a ride somewhere. Instead of owning a car and being potentially liable for accidents or inconveniences, her company provides a car service to take her wherever she needs to go. While it is convenient, she stated it can be a hassle; if she needs to go to the grocery or run some errands, so does everyone else who also needs the service.

She also happened to mention an outing with some ladies from work and I latched onto the line, “it’s the only place I am allowed to walk by myself,” when describing a lunch location just across the street from her office. Though she has been afforded a luxury condo in a close-knit community within the hotel compound, she seems to have been taken prisoner by her company’s regulations. She is not allowed to drive and she is not allowed to walk alone, save one pre-approved location across the street from her office. PNG life was not sounding all that amazing to me.

We were supposed to meet one of Paul’s colleagues for dinner but, just before we met Rebecca, we were advised that something had come up and that the dinner would be cancelled. Paul was later advised that his colleague had been on a drive in a mountainous area and, as they attempted to exit the park, they were carjacked by some nervous looking locals, one with a knife and one with a gun. The men left with a Nikon camera, an iPhone, some money and the Lexus SUV, among other things.

The colleague and his wife, who was in the car with him at the time, were unharmed but a bit shaken up by the event. We met this man’s wife the next evening and let me just say that my money would have been on her – she is fit and she said her adrenaline was in full force but she and her husband knew that taking action could have caused more harm than submission, so they walked on and filed a police report.

When Paul told me what had happened, my first reaction was for their safety. My second was to thank God that we were protected and were not in the vehicle at the time. If we were, I would have been on the next plane off the island. We were told that the colleague considered taking us that afternoon but ultimately decided against the idea. I feel confident that the communion that Paul and I took for our trip and our prayers for safety and protection covered us in that instant. My third reaction went something like this: “REALLY?! REALLY?! On our FIRST day? Our FIRST DAY here and this happens? REALLY?!” From then on I was very conscious of my surroundings and my guard was up in full force.

Paul left the hotel Wednesday morning to head into the office with a coworker so that he could sign some paperwork and start putting through the documents required to obtain his work permit. While out, he and his colleague ran a few errands and Paul got a feel for Port Moresby expat life.

I went off property for the first time that afternoon, on a drive with Paul and his colleague. As we drove we learned that the previously-stolen vehicle had been located and that a private security firm would be charging 1500 PGK (710 USD / 893 SGD) to return the vehicle. Within a half hour, that number had doubled. Get the picture?

As we drove around the area, it was clear to me that Port Moresby was a cross between Youngstown, Ohio, and Indonesia. Graffiti and garbage were everywhere, people flooded the streets and sat by the road side. In a few lots, tables and tents were set up for street markets where the locals buy, sell and barter their goods.

Buildings where money is exchanged (bank properties, retail outlets) are surrounded by thick gates and security guards. Barbed wire is prevalent around the city. Once off the hotel property, it was evident that I was not in Kansas anymore – not that I have ever been to Kansas.

The roads were a mixture of asphalt and dirt. None of the buildings looked new. Not even the beach looked like a place I would want to visit. Truth be told, I was nervous about being anywhere and one of the reasons I didn’t leave the hotel when Paul was away was because I did not feel safe to be on my own. When in the car, I made sure all the doors were locked while we were driving – just in case.

We were advised that there is no “nice area” of Port Moresby – it just is what it is. The surrounding areas, however, looked beautiful in the distance. Smaller islands and rolling hills covered in trees and farmlands. Only the city looked distressed.

Am I glad we went? I don’t know. My views had definitely changed after this visit. Would I like to go back someday? I don’t know. I know there are nicer areas of PNG and some beautiful, untouched lands that are perfect for hiking, diving and exploring but we didn't see any of those this trip. Paul says that he would be fine living in Moresby and going anywhere he needed to go on his own. I confessed that I did not feel the same way.

If I would stay with Paul for any length of time, I think it would take me a long time to feel comfortable. I would not be able to go anywhere without Paul and I would certainly not be exploring the area. I feel that I would be stuck – stuck in the residence, wandering the same grounds for several weeks, wondering when if I would feel comfortable in Moresby.

We have decided that after Paul’s training in the U.S., we will come back to Singapore. I will find a place here and maintain residency. While Paul will be based in PNG, he will fly to Singapore when he has time available and I plan to spend some time in PNG with him over the next three years. We know that we have been blessed with the opportunity and we are confident that we will be able to make the best this new opportunity.

For now, I have seven days left in this condo; Paul is leaving in four days. We still have to call moving companies, curtain cleaners, air con service people, banks, every Singaporean account that takes our money and I still have to sort out what stays in Singapore and what goes to America for two months. To that I say, let the madness begin!

THE UPDATE

Since Paul verbally accepted the job in Papua New Guinea, things have changed no less than twice a week. The latest is that Paul is happy with the terms and is ready to sign a contract when the document is updated to reflect the correct terms. We know that we will be in the U.S. for April and May and today we began actually booking plane tickets, hotel rooms, Amtrak tickets and fun things to do like a baseball game in the Nation’s Capital with my best friend. But here’s the problem – we have 12 days left in our condo and we still do not know where we will be living post training.

We have yet to call a moving company because we don’t know what to tell them. “Hi, can you come pack up my house? Where will it go? Uhh…we don’t really know yet.” If we don’t have any news in the next week, I think we are just going to put everything in storage, which is crazy expensive, by the way. Paul called one company last week that told him the rates were $790 a month. He told the guy the rate was insane and hung up the phone..

I am hoping that our answers will be provided in the next few days. We are supposed to be flying to PNG this evening so that we can see the area and meet a couple people. I e-mailed a fellow blogger who seems to be friend worthy – I won’t lie, I actually sent her an e-mail with “Be My Friend” in the subject line. Nicola is truly rubbing off on me.

I say we are “supposed to” be flying out tonight because we are less than two hours from our departure time and we do not yet have our tickets. We were told yesterday that our visit had been approved by the company and that Paul’s new boss was just awaiting ticket confirmation. We’re still waiting.

Our bags are mostly packed and we are somewhat ready to go. If we get a call in the next 45 minutes, we will jump to grab the last-minute items, change our clothes and bolt out the door. Luckily we only live about five minutes from the airport so it won’t take long to get there. I do have a feeling, though, that the last-minute line at the ticket counter will absolutely suck.

If we don’t make it on the flight tonight, our next opportunity will be Monday. More to come. 

I’M OVER IT!

Oh my goodness, I am finally over it. After months of suffering through short-term depression every time my husband left, today officially marks the day that I have finally experienced the light.

Paul and I started dating in 2002. At the time we were attending universities three hours apart and each three hours from our shared hometown. Aside from our first month together at the end of the summer, we saw each other an average of one weekend a month unless we both happened to be on break at the same time, which was rare.

Just after we announced our engagement, I flew to New Jersey to interview for a career change. We lived in two different states for 16 months before we were married, again seeing each other one weekend month. We finally got to hang out once we were married.

At that time, Paul was a commercial pilot based in North Carolina so I got to see him a few days a week instead of a few days a month – it was awesome.

We moved here and Paul suddenly stopped flying so much. We thought we would have problems seeing each other almost all day almost every day but, surprisingly, our relationship only got stronger. We started napping together – that’s Paul’s favorite together-time activity.

Sometime last fall I began slipping into depressive states that only occurred when Paul had a trip. It didn’t matter whether he was gone for four days or 12 hours – within two minutes of Paul walking out the door, my mood dropped, I became lazy, I slept a lot and found myself not wanting to clean, not wanting to exercise, not wanting to go outside or to the grocery or do anything that required getting off the couch. This week, however, I am completely cured!

Once I admitted that I was having issues, and I told my friends, I started finding ways to get out of that depression because I truly didn’t like the way I made myself feel. Before Paul even left, I started scheduling things to do during the time when he would be gone. If he left Wednesday morning, I would make a lunch date. If he would be gone for dinner, I would call a friend and invite myself over for dinner.

I wouldn’t even lie about my reasoning or hint my way into an invitation. I simply phoned a friend and said, “Paul is leaving tomorrow and I don’t want to be depressed so can I come over for dinner tomorrow? We can call it Taco Thursday.” I would call Nic and say things like, “Hi, I know you’re working now and you don’t really get to hang out with your husband and you are probably going to bed earlier but Paul is away tonight and I really don’t want to be alone, so can I come over?” Thankfully, I have amazing friends who said yes every time.

Paul left Monday night. He left at 9:30 p.m. and I was already on the phone with his mom. I watched some television, planned a best-friend staycation, read a book and fell right to sleep. Tuesday I had a best-friend chat, an hour reading by the pool (yeah, Nic, I stole yours while I dropped off your computer – evil, cheater motive, I know), a chilled bus ride into the city and a super-relaxed, healthy lunch with a great friend.

I got home in time to shower again and make myself pretty for an amazing Journey concert near my neighborhood. I came home, read a little in bed and called it a night. This morning I was up early and on the work train from 9 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. – being the second day like that this week, it’s almost like I have a real job again.

I came home starving and exhausted and I have spent my evening eating one of my favorite dinners (leftover spaghetti with meat sauce). I had my fourth shower in two days, got excited to turn on the air con and jump into my pink, flannel pjs and chill out with a tiny bit of chocolate and a crazy, girly reality TV show about 30-somethings on the dating scene who give everyone else advice and don’t take their own. It’s my new guilty pleasure.

In a moment during my TV time, I realized that I was smiling and that I was truly happy. I am now successfully and completely over my Paul-less depression. It's about time!

RACHAEL’S GUIDE TO LIVING IN SINGAPORE

When the possibility of living in Singapore suddenly became a reality, Paul and I realized there wasn’t much that we actually knew about expat life in Asia. Now, we did know that Singapore was referred to as “Asia 101” so we knew that it would have more Western influence than any other Asian nation, and we were right.

Now that we have been here two years, my husband’s impression is that Singapore is “much cleaner, safer and more technologically advanced than any major U.S. city. Imagine that someone took a pressure washer to New York City and cleaned off the gunk, removed the crime and then made it 20 percent more expensive.”

Two years ago, we knew three things:

1.       Singapore was a tiny, tiny city-state in Asia

2.       A severe volcanic explosion resembling Krakatoa’s big one was really the only natural disaster that could take out Singapore

3.       The place was freaking expensive

At the time the offer was presented, we had three major concerns:

1.       Was the salary going to be enough?

2.       What was the housing going to be like and how would we find it?

3.       How are we going to get around?

This post answers those questions and more so, if you are planning to move to Singapore, here is almost everything you need to know (WARNING: THIS IS A LOT):

SALARY

We often joke that we are poor expats, so I will say that we are not making tons of money out here and, therefore, we are not spending tons of excess money. We live within our means and do well so this is from our perspective.

Let me simply state that if you are making a six-figure salary annually, you can make ends meet. Now, obviously, the caveat is that your expenditures must be within your means, but yes, it’s possible. If you’re single and don’t have a lot of expenses, you can absolutely do it for less.

A married couple will be fine on 10,000 a month or more, assuming housing or any living bonuses are not included. If you will receive bonuses, you will be fine. Children will definitely add to the cost, so be sure your salary can accommodate the additional increase. Now, on to what your salary will cover.

RENT

Unless you like a studio, which has just become popular in Singapore, plan a minimum of $3,000 a month for rent. If you have a better budget, know that there are plenty of five-figure monthly rental rates out there. We have friends who pay more in monthly rent that we bring in, so it is possible to find incredible places that are worth the spend.

The only way to find a place is to contact a listing agent, so call as many as you like and then move forward with the ones you trust. It is not unheard of to have more than one agent but sometimes the one who eventually gets fired will take the bad news personally. We should know.

Most agents will take a commission that matches your monthly rent and there is a charge at lease signing called the stamp fee that will be in addition to the security deposit and first month’s rent, so have your bank account stocked.

We have, for the next three weeks, a three-bedroom condo on the East Coast that is listed at 1,225 sf and we pay $3,400 a month. Pictures are available in this post. In Singapore, don’t underestimate the power of negotiation. I heard one person got half off their rent because they seriously negotiated. We offered our agent a $100 signing bonus for each $100 that he could negotiate off our rent in order to give him some incentive to get us a better deal.

You can honestly live almost anywhere in Singapore, so try to stay in a temporary place as long as possible so that you can really get to know the neighborhoods. There are so many expats on this island that there are at least a handful anywhere you look.

We chose the East Coast because it’s quiet and there isn’t a lot of traffic. We are just across the highway from the park, which has great trails for running and biking. There are a ton of small businesses and neighborhood centers and we have fantastic bus access with a train station just a few minutes away. We like it.

Orchard and Tanglin are popular for those in higher income brackets because they are close to major amenities such as hospitals, restaurants and shopping. Some of my favorite apartments are in the Orchard area, so take a look if you can afford the rent. Rents in the Central Business District are high so know that you will pay a lot for not a lot of space. The streets will be crowded but there are tons of food and entertainment opportunities, so go where your heart desires.

Robertson Quay is a very popular expat area. There are parks, restaurants along the water and plenty of dogs for those of you coming with pets. Train stations are not yet prevalent but they are under construction. Holland Village is an area that has perked up in the last two years. There are a ton of restaurants and it’s home to Plain Vanilla Bakery, home of the best cupcakes on the island – just thought you should know.

Just around the corner from Holland Village is an area called Buona Vista, where the green line meets the yellow line. The neighborhood, still known to some as Rochester Park, is in the middle of a revival. A new award-winning, open-air shopping center opened last fall; the mall includes a 5,000-seat auditorium with concerts featuring artists from Noral Jones to Adam Lambert and that’s just this month.

Fusionopolis, Biopolis and Mediapolis are three mega-industry structures in the works that will bring together some of the smartest industry professionals. Google them. And, if all that isn’t enough to entice you, there’s also my church, located in that awesome 5,000-seat auditorium. I won’t try to push anything on you but, if you want your life to change, check out New Creation Church. It’s amazing. And it’s all at Buona Vista. Can you tell that I want to move there?

Keppel is at the southern tip of the island, just across from Sentosa. There are some great developments with water views, Sentosa views and it’s close to the boating clubs so, if that’s your thing, this is your area. There is a massive, massive shopping mall called VivoCity and most developments have a free shuttle for residents. Some developments, like the Caribbean at Keppel Bay, look like a Vegas resort.

One more area that I will highlight is the Bukit Timah (boo-ki-tee-muh) neighborhood. Located at the top of the Botanic Garden (Tanglin is located at the bottom), the area along Bukit Timah road resembles life in the jungle. There are lots of older buildings and shopping centers, which means that there are a lot of small businesses to explore.

TRANSPORTATION

Cars are beyond expensive. According to my husband, Singaporeans see owning a car like we see owning a house – they will pay for a car and live with their parents until they are 30 without hesitation. We don’t have a car and, while I sometimes think that having a car would be nice, we get around so easily without one. Who wants to deal with driving and parking when we can sit in the back and be productive while someone else takes us from point A to point B?

The buses are great and run 20 hours a day. The trains are no more than 5 minutes apart at any given operation hour. Both are extremely cheap options and they go practically everywhere – even to Malaysia (a bus from Little India currently transports people to Malaysia; the train is in development). It is important to understand that Singapore’s train system, called the MRT, is fairly new so they have a massive expansion plan through 2020 when the subway system will resemble that of New York’s. For now, however, it works pretty well.

If you think a train or a bus will take too long, cabs are usually easy to find. If it’s raining, it’s a lot harder to find one. Cab drivers must be citizens so you would think that they know the roads like the back of their hands but they don’t always, especially the new ones. Most cabbies are great – they know their way, they are friendly, they ask you which way you want to take – but don’t be afraid to ask someone to pull over and get out if the driver doesn’t seem to know his way.

One more note about cabs: they give you back your change. No tipping is required. Most drivers pay taxi companies a daily fee so their take-home pay is only above that fee. If you do tip, they will welcome the extra cash. Speaking of cash, not all cabs take plastic so it’s a good idea to ALWAYS have $20 in your wallet, just in case.

And now the other important stuff…

FOOD

Groceries

I cook – A LOT – so I do a lot of grocery shopping. I buy fresh produce and meats more often than I buy frozen anything. I don’t buy a lot of processed foods, though I do love me some Velveeta Shells and Cheese every now and then. I like to buy fresh bread from the bakery but I don’t always.

All of that considered, I spend between $600 and $700 a month on groceries. The three major grocery chains are Cold Storage (deemed “the expat grocery” because it sells more home favorites than any other), Fair Price and Giant. Giant is the larger, cheaper option, Cold Storage is typically the smaller, more expensive option and Fair Price typically falls in the middle. In addition, Cold Storage owns many neighborhood specialty shops called the Tanglin Market or Katong Market, as two examples. They’re great.

But here’s my new-found secret: REDMART! RedMart, people. RedMart provides an amazing online alternative with delivery and the best Singaporean customer service I have ever experienced. Create an account at https://redmart.com and then start shopping…on your couch…in your pajamas…whenever you remember that you are running low on something. While they do not sell perishable items, you can get everything else you need from their gigantic warehouse. They have health and beauty items, standard drug store items, cleaning products and, of course, food and beverages, including beer and wine because who wants to carry that heavy stuff?

If you spend $75, the shipping is free. If you don’t, shipping is only $10. Once you have an account you will occasionally receive e-mails – none of which are annoying. The e-mails mostly tell you about specials: Save $25 with this promo code if you order by the end of the month; Save 30 percent on your total order for this upcoming holiday (St. Patrick’s Day – seriously!).

Now, the other grocery stores typically offer delivery services but most require that you go to the store, do your shopping, stand in line to pay, purchase your items in person, then stand in line again at the customer service desk so that they can check your items, be sure that you have reached the $150 minimum, register your items and then give you a four-hour window the next day when your items will be delivered. What’s the point? RedMart gives you a six-day window whereby you select the day and time and, bonus, they deliver on time.

No matter which store you choose, know that you won’t often come out with everything you need. If you find something you like, buy enough to last you a while because no one keeps proper inventory. Most grocery stores are close to other grocery stores because people know that you will likely go to three stores to get everything you need.

The Chicken Man

Yes, Singapore has a Chicken Man. His name is Mr. Wee and he speaks English so well that he speaks colloquialisms and sarcasm; both are very hard to find here. He brings freshly-butchered chickens to your door and can prepare them any way you like them. Just send a text to 9139.2189 and let him know what you would like.

His prices are comparable to the butchers below, the chickens are super fresh (which is why he gives you an hour delivery window) and there are absolutely no preservatives. He has whole chickens or chicken pieces: boneless, skinless, breasts, legs, thighs, quarters, halves, wings – whatever you need. If you want to order in bulk, wrap the chicken pieces the same day and place them in the freezer right away. If you leave them in the fridge for more than a day, they will spoil – they’re that fresh.

The Butchers

When you need meat, and you will, find your favorite butcher. There are plenty of options so take your pick. I use The Butcher because there is one in my neighborhood; other options include the Swiss Butcher and the Barbie Girls. Check out all of their websites – they all have great quality products and delivery options.

Wet Markets

Wet markets are extremely popular. Local aunties and uncles open shop in the wee hours before the sun is up and display the freshest produce, seafood, flowers, nuts and spices in practically every neighborhood. If you go, go early – definitely before noon – and dress properly. Wet markets are not squeaky clean; they are the product of a busy work environment.

If you have Wellies, wear them. I do and the locals love me for it because, surprisingly, not a lot of people outside of the construction worker community actually have a pair. Wear clothes that can get wet and grubby. The covered, open-air markets typically have hard floors that get grubby from the mud and blood that comes with grabbing root vegetables and chopping meats and seafood. Then, the floors are sprayed down to move away some of that grime.

If you’re a germaphobe, stay away. People don’t wear gloves, they don’t properly clean their work areas and they don’t clean their hands before they give you your change. On the other hand, they are providing great quality products for a negotiable rate and, if you hate butchering your own food, they will do that as well. One note: since most stalls are open on Saturdays, not many are open on Mondays. Just sayin’.

If You Can’t Find Something and You’ve Tried Everywhere Else

Go to Mustafa’s. Mustafa’s has got to be the biggest building in all of Singapore but I could have just made that up. Located in Little India, the massive shopping center spans two city blocks on at least six levels and is a combination Super Wal-Mart, Dick’s Sporting Goods, weird, flashy jewelry store meets everything you could possibly ever need.

If you go, go during the week and during daytime hours. Another alternative is to go in the late-night hours because the store is open 24/7. If you go on a weekend, you will want to kill yourself. If you go on a Sunday afternoon, you will realize that you are in hell. Don’t go on a weekend!

Mustafa’s has food, shoes, sportswear and equipment, cosmetic items, phones, cameras, TVs, hair straighteners and, like I said, anything else you can’t seem to find anywhere else. Take a friend, be sure you stay together and pay close attention to where you go – you will get lost.

CELL PHONES

Funny thing about cell phones: when we moved here, all of the locals had iPhones – ALL of them! People waited in line for hours before the stores opened to get a piece of the new one. Today, however, the Samsung Tsunami has wiped out most of the iPhones, leaving only the iPad Minis in full bloom. Everyone has a Samsung. Everyone, that is, except the expats.

Now, I was smart enough to get on the Samsung train in time for the SII, which is my favorite phone to date, but nearly all of my friends are still messing with their problematic iPhones.

Whichever brand snob you are, here’s what you need to know. Singapore doesn’t have phones that are locked to a specific carrier. In the U.S., a person only used to be able to buy an iPhone when they signed up for AT&T service. After a couple years, Verizon got in on the deal. In Singapore, you can buy your phone on the street – all you need from a carrier is a sim card, which can be a pre-paid or post-paid option.

If you are coming to Singapore with a phone of your own, you need to research how to get your phone unlocked. Unless your phone is unlocked, you will be tied to your original carrier for all eternity. If you do want to purchase a phone once you are here, I recommend a 3G quad-band phone, which will allow your calling and data network features to work on any global network; Singapore 3G operates on 2100 MHz. My last phone was not a quad-band and I was not able to use my data network when I was back in the States, even with a local sim card and data plan. It just didn’t work.

And, before you even try to purchase a phone or a phone plan from an actual service retailer, read the next section.

KNOW WHO WEARS THE PANTS IN YOUR FAMILY

While Singapore is a very male-dominated society, the truth is that they only seem to care about the primary breadwinner. If you are a married couple or family moving because of one person’s job, that person who has just caused your family to move will be the only one who will be able to do anything business wise. Ever.

Whoever holds that employment pass holds the key to all things paperwork. The dependents cannot get phones, open bank accounts or even make changes to an existing account without someone speaking to the EP holder first. I had to wake up my husband one night so that the representative on the other end of the phone could provide me with the code to unlock my own cell phone. Not cool.

GETTING THAT ID

Applying for IDs is a process and one that you will likely repeat. Pay close attention to the requirements and don’t think you can get away with any deviation. If you are required to have an appointment, get there early and get your queue ticket from the machine and wait for your number to bleep up on the screen – your appointment time really doesn’t mean a darn thing.

When you get your photo taken, be sure to confirm the photo size requirements because they differ. Most ID photos need to be taken on a white background. Eyebrows and ears must be shown in all photos and the head needs to be perfectly straight, so watch out for that stuff. Women, wear extra makeup. If you’re like me and prefer a more subtle look, none of it will show up in your photo. Wear some eyeliner and blush up those cheeks.

HAIR CARE

No woman can survive without a truly trusted hair stylist. Finding one in Singapore is all about trial and error, though we hope not too badly. I simply mean that if you want the best, you will find the best, pay the fees and then learn later that you can get a great look for a lower cost. Maybe you find someone who cuts well but doesn’t have the same skills in the color department. Maybe you find one person to do your color and another to cut your hair. Maybe you can afford the most amazing stylist on the island and you’re all set.

When you make friends, take their recommendations and then make an appointment for a consultation just to get a feel. If you feel confident, try something easy and non life-threatening. In the last two years, I have floated from hair dresser to hair dresser. Here are my top two recommendations.

If you want the best, call Alison Kerlin. She is a Vidal Sassoon-trained Aussie with more than 20 years in the field. Don’t let the Riverfront building’s exterior fool you – her new salon is truly impressive. With Alison, you have to know two things: first, her time management sucks so don’t plan anything after your appointment because you will probably be late and, second, the magic she will do for your hair is worth the money that you could be putting toward a pair of Jimmy Choos.

Her color treatments will run you more than $250 and the cuts will be an additional $180. Just need a cut? It’s still going to cost you $180. But, if you have a special case or you can afford the price, give her a call. You just might get the best style you’ve ever had.

I went to Alison for four to six months and then I felt really guilty about the bill and my lack of personal income. I shopped around and one day stumbled upon a Loreal salon in a shopping mall. I figured a Loreal place would know my hair type so I stepped in and met Kenny. I have been with Kenny ever since.

Kenny Koh is in his mid-20s but he’s smart, he is friendly and he can turn my desires from pictures to reality. Cuts at Kenny’s Professional Hair Studio on China Street (Club Street area) are $40. I can get a cut and single color or highlight for under $200. If he uses two colors, it will be around $220 with conditioning treatment included. He is great at scheduling quickly and I can be in and out in an hour and a half or less (which may seem like a long time for some but I was in the other chair for three hours, so this is much better for my day).

HEALTH CARE

I have a recent post dedicated to my health care so I won’t go into too much detail. I will tell you that a popular expat hospital is Camden Medical Centre in the Tanglin neighborhood. They have an international clinic on the 14^th floor that seems to be doing really well. I stopped in for the first time today to inquire about a travel kit that several friends have recommended. I will post that once we receive ours.

My doctors are all a part of Pacific Healthcare; their offices are located in the Paragon building on Orchard Road, just across the street from their affiliated Mount Elizabeth Hospital. PHC is a great organization that works extremely well to get great health care taken care of immediately. If you need an appointment, they get you in same day. If you need tests, those tests are done on site while you are still present for your existing appointment. If you need results, they can call or e-mail you so you don’t have to go in if it’s not necessary.

There are general practitioners and specialists in the same building. If you want to see a specialist, call them up and make an appointment. I have not had a single person ask me for a referral.

If you have serious issues that occur after the six-day-a-week doctor’s hours, check out your clinic options carefully. Mount Elizabeth has a 24-hour clinic and I would imagine that Camden or Gleneagles does as well but, because the hospitals are on Orchard Road and I live on the East Coast, when my kidney freaked out at 3 a.m., I thought I would try my local neighborhood clinic. That was a mistake.

I called ahead to verify that the clinic could handle kidney issues. When I arrived no more than 10 minutes later, I rang the bell twice before an angry-looking girl rubbing her eyes under her glasses and yawning came from the back, dragging her feet, and unhappily opened the door. I had to wait about five minutes to see a doctor who barely acknowledged me, let alone said hello or offered friendly advice. He did not examine me but he did type a lot of things in his computer and then immediately diagnosed me without requesting any tests to be sure. I had to ask for and insist upon my tests that he said were not necessary. And, yeah, they were.

When I arrived at the clinic to pick up my test results, a receptionist handed me the labs and sent me on my way. No one offered to go over the results with me so I just had to figure it out for myself. When I later saw my good doctor and presented her with the results, she advised me that the antibiotic mister doctor gave me was not adequate as it was not prescribed in the correct dosage. I was still sick and needed two more prescriptions. It then took 2.5 weeks for the clinic to provide me my insurance forms. I will go to Orchard next time.

Well folks, I think that’s all – at least for this point in time. Now, I realize that there is absolutely no way I can answer every one of your questions in a single post, so please also take a look at a document myhusband compiled for all of his pilot friends (included is information on taxes and school fees, so definitely check it out). It’s much more technical and I take no responsibility for typos but it has a lot of more detailed, man-oriented information. We know we will miss things, so feel free to post some comments about those other things we left out. We will be happy to provide some answers either via e-mail, on the comment wall or in another dedicated post.

I hope this helps!

SO WE’RE MOVING TO PAPUA NEW GUINEA

Last weekend Paul left me for the land down under to interview for a new pilot position with the Papua New Guinea government; the government has a Falcon that they use for business purposes. The government currently employs two pilots, one local man and one expat. Since they were unable to sell the aircraft as planned over the last year, they decided that they would keep the plane and hire two additional pilots. 

Paul and 15 other people who submitted applications were invited to Melbourne, Australia, to interview for one of the two available first officer positions. Due to financial commitments, time constraints, and I’m sure a handful of other reasons, only five or six people actually interviewed for the positions.

Paul endured a full day of questions from a panel of four company managers and some time in a simulator so that his flight skills could be evaluated. His experience was just that – an experience. He called home that evening with stories.

”As soon as I sat down, they asked if I was married,” he said. For those unfamiliar with these parts, questions related to marital status and baby-making plans are completely common. “Then they wanted to know about the kid situation, so I told them that negotiations were ongoing and they lost it.” He said they laughed so hard, which I felt was a good thing.

He said he did fine in his interview and he did fine in the simulator. One of the guys evaluating his sim test commented on how well he did and he simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I just flew the plane – there was nothing complimented. I guess the standards in aviation are just so low that I can exceed expectations by just doing what I have been trained to do,” he said.

He went to bed feeling that he did “fine” and that he wasn’t feeling anything either way about the situation because it was in God’s hands. The next day when I awoke, Paul called to tell me the news that we were surprised to hear so soon.

”They offered me the job,” he said quickly.

”Really?” I replied. I was surprised because Paul is not certified to fly that aircraft and we had been warned that company officials were pretty adamant about having Falcon-certified pilots.

Paul continued to explain that he needed to check out of his hotel and head to the airport for his return flight but that he was offered the job, he would start training in the U.S. in April and that he had about 24 hours to provide the company with a yes or no response.

We talked a lot about the opportunity. The position will allow Paul to be certified to fly a larger aircraft and that type rating can only help him in the future. He would be flying domestically and continue his international flying, which would, again, only help him in the future. Though his schedule would not be as dormant as it is now, he would be on an open rotation with the other pilots so he would not likely be flying all the time. The money was decent, housing would be covered and we would be able to purchase a car through his company. The downside was that we would have to live in Papua New Guinea.

Three weeks ago, Paul and I were on a Skype call with one of the current pilots, asking a lot of questions. Now, I don’t know why this guy took this approach, but he decided to tell us everything negative about PNG. He explained that he wanted to set our expectations and give us the worst-case scenarios. Well, he did. It was enough to make me freaking nervous and I admittedly went off on a rant about how much I did not want to live in PNG.

”No, no no! I am not going. I won’t live in PNG! We have covered that Port Moresby is like Detroit or Youngstown and I do NOT want to live in Detroit or Youngstown. I completely understand that I am in a bubble here in Singapore but I live the safety of my bubble and I don’t want to fear for my life or my house or my money living in some place like Port Moresby. Gangs? I don’t want to deal with gangs. I am not O.K. with this!”

Paul actually muted the conversation to stop me and tell me that I was being rude. I later apologized via instant message and said I would do some research, and I did.

Throughout three weeks, I spent time on the Internet researching Papua New Guinea and its capital, Port Moresby. I found out that there are only three cities in PNG and we would be living in the largest. Yes, the crime rate was high. Yes, Port Moresby was rated as one of the five worst places in the world to live. But, yes, I did start seeing other sides to the equation.

Not only did I find factual websites, I went in search of blogs like my own to find out what life as a village person was really like. Surprisingly, I learned a lot of good things.

I learned that there are a ton of expats in Port Moresby and that Exxon Mobile has apparently purchased a ton of serviced apartments in one of the two locations selected for us so that all of their foreign workers have a place to stay. While there is not an American Women’s Association, I did find an international women’s organization.

I found blogs by single people, married people and people with kids. I found blogs by men and women. I learned that social calendars become just as booked a Singaporean expat social calendars, but likely more quickly. I found the expats’ favorite grocery store and where to buy the freshest live crabs and fresh fruits on the street. I learned that good quality clothing is hard to come by but that a local consignment shop is the third party in an all-city expat closet swap.

Mostly, I learned that though the crime rates are statistically high, a lot of that is due to poverty levels. Though there is a gang in town, not much is being done to stop them. Most of the crime seems to happen among the local people with very few expats (note: expats with whom I have come into contact or whose blogs I have read) have actually witnessed any crimes, let alone have been a part of them.

Several people talked about how nice the local people are and spoke very highly of their diligent work ethic. I was advised that many expats are brought into Port Moresby to help the locals build infrastructure, create jobs and do for themselves what other countries have been doing for years. Expats are seen as mentors in a lot of cases and as long as we keep that in mind and encourage others through our work, we should be just fine.

The accommodation information we have been provided is great. One person wrote that one of our options was five star compared to Aussie standards, not local standards, so that made us feel better.

I found a soon-to-be-friend who is in her late 20s; she has already agreed to meet me for coffee whenever Paul and I visit. I also spoke with some moms about health care experiences and family safety issues.

Paul stated that if the same job were offered in another country like Australia or America or somewhere in Europe, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the thought of living in PNG gave him cause for concern.

Just like the last time, we left the decision up to God. We know that His plan is perfect and that He will make our path straight. We prayed for confirmation because Paul stated that was what he needed the day we needed to give an answer.

We arrived at the hotel where we were meeting Paul’s potential new boss and the moment we were greeted, I was reading the confirmation that Paul had just received.

Just like last time, we were given the answer through Bible Gateway’s verse of the day. Two years ago, when the world told us not to be crazy and move to Singapore, the verse of the day quoted Jeremiah’s “For I know the plans I have made for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” This time God revealed Joshua 1:1-9, which talks about how God gives Joshua all of the land that he sees. “As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous…” So we said yes.

MY NEW EMOTION

I have felt a lot of things over the last two years: excitement, anxiousness, awkwardness, joy, peace, annoyance, anger, frustration, amusement and absolute hilarity. A few weeks ago, however, I felt a new emotion that I never knew existed: the bug-off-I-don’t-want-to-get-to-know-you feeling. It was kind of weird. 

I am a very social person; Paul is not. We work well together because we know that about each other and we support each other in our desires to either be completely and utterly social or a complete recluse. It’s fine.

I attended one of my first AWA coffees in months and, while sitting in a Starbucks, I was introduced to some unfamiliar people. I don’t go to these Wednesday and Friday coffees very often because I see the same people and, when new people were joining week after week, I got tired of the same questions over and over and over and over again.

”Hi, where are you from? How long have you been here? Is this your first expat assignment? How long are you here? What does your husband do? What did you do in your former life?” For the record I hate that question. I have a life now, thank you!

When I arrived, there were only two other women present. I knew them, so I sat down, smiled and caught up. And then, our star of today’s blog walked in and sat across from me. She was loud – OMG was she loud! – and she had just arrived but she already knew everything, at least that’s what I interpreted.

She seemed keen to talk to me but, before I knew what was happening, the wall was up, my disgust-o-meter started recording frequencies and I did everything I could to conversation block. What was this feeling? Annoyance? Yes, but there was something else.

In the same coffee, I met another woman who had just recently moved to Singapore. She seemed nice and we chatted for a while but still, I had this feeling like, “It’s nice talking to you but I have no real interest in being friends. No hard feelings.”

I like people. I like friends. But, to be honest, I only need a couple really close girlfriends, otherwise I don’t do so well. That’s why the sorority thing didn’t really work for me. I loved it while I was in it but 90 girls squeezed into a tiny house for meetings, all of those personalities – it was too much pressure. How is it possible to be sister-like friends with that many people? Now, I don’t completely regret the sorority thing. I do have some great life-long friends and I do have a cool connection with people I’ve never actually met thanks to Facebook, but I definitely learned that I cannot handle more than a few good girlfriends.

I have met a couple other ladies, some of whom are close to my age and it just keeps happening. I am fine chatting but my brain has totally shut off the accepting-new-friends mode. I guess it’s just because April is coming and the end is in sight. Since I know that leaving is inevitable, I simply have no interest in making new friends – at least not in Singapore. I am, however, totally open to making new friends in Papua New Guinea. I have already made myself a coffee date but we’ll get to that next time. 

HERE’S WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ANYTHING RELATED TO DOCUMENTATION

Whether setting up a bank account, registering for a work pass or visa, applying for a resident pass, registering for a driver’s license, signing a lease or setting up phone or internet service, it is important for anyone in Singapore to know that you are set up for failure – every time.

There are so many rules to follow, so many documents to provide and, sometimes, you can’t get one thing until you get another thing first. Get used to it.

When we moved to Singapore, we could not get phone service without a Foreigner Identification Number, which is similar to the U.S. government’s Social Security Number except everyone here requests a person’s FIN. I could not obtain an FIN until my dependent pass was approved. Before my pass could be approved, Paul’s pass had to be approved – and that took three months.

Because Paul began work prior to receiving his FIN, he needed a way to get paid. His boss arranged to either pay Paul in cash or to write checks that Paul would be able to cash until we received our FINs and could actually open an account. We had to present three separate checks before one could be cashed because the first check had tick marks indicating that the check was for deposit only and could not be cashed. The second check was refused because one of the signatures was sloppy and did not exactly match the scanned signature on file. That time the bank actually called the person who signed the check and requested that she come down to the bank to verify her signature was actually her signature. Paul said no, that was ridiculous and he left to get yet another check.

Once we received our approval, just days before we would have had to leave the country, it was time to get our ID cards. We prepared everything, found out how to put everything together and made our Ministry of Manpower appointments. My appointment was separate from Paul’s because his pass was approved before mine. I was advised as to where to go and what to do about my photo.

Now, ID photos are very important to me. People see them and they are on that card for years – the longer the card is valid, the more photogenic I have to be. Case and point: my latest passport photo is the most amazing, model-like photo I have ever taken in my life because that passport is valid for 10 years. People are impressed with that photo.

My first Singapore ID photo – maybe one of the worst ID photos ever taken. I prepped myself like I usually do but I was not yet acclimatized to the heat and the humidity so I was a bit sweaty and my hair did not look as good as it did when I left the house. I did my makeup but the black and white photo didn’t show any. I left my hair down because I thought having it up would make me look like I had no hair at all.

My mom always made cracks at me regarding my bangs being in my eyes but I really didn’t expect the photo lady to say anything about it. “Must show eyebrows,” she barked. What?! I have to show my eyebrows? “Cannot cover ears,” she continued. Really? Do you know how ridiculous I am going to look? Truth be told, I did not know how ridiculous I was going to look.

I took my one photo, lied and said I really didn’t care about it and that the photo was good enough because, who was I kidding, I wasn’t going to take a better one, and I walked out of the room and into the next office. I watched as the woman behind the desk placed my photo into the prepared box. She then rotated my photo so that my head was straight up and down (apparently I subconsciously cock my head to the side), leaving one shoulder angled several inches above the other. I could not figure out why the photo lady didn’t say anything while I was in the chair. Didn’t she know my head was supposed to be straight? All I know is that I am officially crooked on my Singapore green card. Awesome.

Just over a year into our stay, we decided to apply for permanent residency. We loved Singapore and could see ourselves staying for quite a while. After reviewing all of the requirements and all of the benefits of PR status, we could not find a reason not to apply.

PR status allows us to claim Singapore as our primary residence. We turn in our temporary green cards and obtain a blue card. Our Foreign Identification Numbers turn into National Registration Identity Card numbers, which are only given to PRs and citizens. Our ability to stay in the country is no longer tied to Paul’s job or any job for that matter.

As an expat worker, our ability to live in Singapore is tied to Paul’s work pass. My ability to have a job on a dependent pass is tied to Paul’s work pass. If anything would happen to Paul’s job or Paul’s company, his pass would be cancelled, which would automatically cancel my pass, and we would have to vacate the country in 30 days. As a PR, we can go in and out of the country as we please. We can stay as long as we like.

The one catch that causes most expats to avoid PR status is that any male children will be required to join the military at the age of 16 and serve in Singapore’s National Service. We think that’s just fine.

So Paul and I researched everything we needed and we set off to the immigration authority. We had a giant file of paperwork because we needed original documents and at least one copy, maybe two. We needed copies of our passports, Singapore ID cards, college diplomas, employment letters, birth certificates, marriage certificate, tax forms…all of it. And we brought it all.

Paul worked really hard to make sure we had everything and I double checked both of our packets at least twice to ensure we didn’t forget anything. While at the desk, the woman reviewing our documents started handing us back sheets. We needed to make new copies of four documents because the copies did not exactly match the originals.

“The corner is cut off of this one,” she said and handed us a sheet. “The print at the bottom is cut off here,” she said about another one. Paul almost had a freak-out moment. Luckily a pay-per-page copy place was just across the hall. We got it figured out but it was kind of ridiculous.

Paul and I recently had another visit to the immigration authority when we received word that our permanent residency application had been approved (YAAAAAAY!!). We had received all of the letters and forms in the mail, filled in everything, signed everything, copied everything we needed to copy. We felt confident.

When our queue number flashed on board, we approached the desk and began the review. About two minutes in, the woman stopped, looked concerned and then we knew. We knew that at that moment something was wrong and we were going to have to stop the process.

”There is no stamp,” the woman advised, pointing to a completed form that certifies that Paul is still employed in Singapore. There was a signature but someone at the company had failed to stamp the form. She pulled out our application file, flipped to a similar form and showed us an ink stamp the size of a nickel with the company’s name in a circle. We needed that stamp.

To make a long story shorter, we stopped our progress, walked outside and Paul called the assistant to see when she would be taking her lunch. He explained that what we needed and ultimately decided that we should take care of the matter that day and not wait. I agreed. We flagged a cab and drove 15 minutes or so up to the airport.

I waited in the cab while Paul went inside to get this stamp. Did anyone apologize? No. Did anyone express regret for missing the stamp, which is obviously common practice, and making Paul stop everything and drive to the most inconvenient location on the island just so he could get this sacred stamp? No.

Thirty minutes and $30 later we were back at the immigration authority, sitting in a chair, again waiting our turn. “The standard is so unbelievably high here that we will never be able to meet it,” Paul said. “We are set up for failure.”

He was right.

A friend of mine had a baby near Christmas. Babies are required to have ID cards within their first month. Can you imagine trying to photograph a newborn for an ID photo? They must be against a white background with their eyes open, nothing on their heads, both ears showing.

My friend and her husband prepared all the documentation. The husband went to the Ministry of Manpower or wherever he needed to go. He got to the counter at the end of the day, presented his documentation and, before the process could even start, the clerk said, “We cannot process your application today because you do not have everything.”

”What?!” he said. “I have all of the documents right here.

”No sir,” the clerk repeated. “You do not have everything.”

”Well then, what am I missing?” he asked.

”You did not bring the baby.”

Yeah, true story. Failure. Every time.