Diary of an Expat in Singapore (16 page)

What’s the only thing worse than getting lost on a sun-drenched island in the middle of the day? Your little sister getting lost. Who do you think they are going to blame? Is it your fault she got bored of watching you play pool? There was only so much origami you could do at that kids’ club.

They offer you a cup of hot water.

It’s only 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade outside… who wouldn’t want a refreshing cup of
hot
water? Anybody hear of iced tea?

Marie Claire is in Chinese.

It is pretty safe to say that when all the magazines at a hair salon are in Chinese, you are probably in a Chinese hair salon. When the stylist points to a random Western personality (Beyonce, Katy Perry, Adele) and then points to you, you may not be sure how to respond. “What? We’re all singers? We’re all Western? We all straighten our hair…?
What is it?
” Don’t expect an answer. Just a smile, like “You know.”

You’re the client with the most challenging hair.

No, it’s not your imagination. It really is a look of dread filling the eyes of all the hairdressers at the salon when you walk in the door. Who will be the lucky stylist assigned to you? And, yes, it is because you have curly, frizzy, totally unmanageable hair by their standards – let’s be honest – by
any
standards. The fact that you say, “Straight, please,” does not make you any more endearing.

You can’t understand any of the gossip.

Bring a book because you’re not going to be hearing any of the juicy details about the latest Singaporean pop star, footballer, or for that matter, the client who just walked out of the salon. Just when you thought you were getting on fine living in Singapore without speaking Chinese, you had to ruin it all by getting your hair done.

You bring in your reluctant son who studies Mandarin, so he can tell you if they’re talking about you. They are.

There is a possible solution to the language barrier. Your son. The obvious disadvantage being that you can only get your hair done on school holidays. But if that’s what it takes to know whether the stylist is making fun of you or not… it’s totally worth it.

It’s freezing.

You think you don’t need to bring a sweater since there will be hot air from the hair-dryer directed at your head for over an hour. You are wrong. It is still freezing. If you don’t want a pile of pity towels draped over you, bring a pashmina.

When they say: “Your hair is so curly,” it’s not in a good way.

Singaporeans are not too keen on curls… frizzy hair is a complete mystery. “How did this mishap of a hairstyle occur?” Your self-confidence may take a blow when they point to your hair and lift both shoulders at the same time. And Singaporean hairdressers are very candid. They do not mince words. Probably not going to win any diplomacy awards. If you gained weight or look tired, you are going to hear about it.

Describing your desired colour as “copper – you know, like the colour of the sun setting on kitchen pots in a Tuscan farmhouse” is not a foolproof plan.

In your mind, it’s all very clear. But when your mental image of copper morphs into a bright-red Japanese anime character, that’s where the phrase
lost in translation
becomes suddenly, alarmingly relevant. If only they had not nodded their heads in such total understanding when you mentioned the copper pots and the sunsets in Tuscany.

Those straightened locks smiling back at you from the mirror may stay behind at the hair salon.

I guess you forgot about the 100% humidity outside. For a Caucasian with very curly hair, there is nothing more demoralizing than walking out of a hair salon in Singapore. By the time she gets home (regardless of the weather), her hair will very likely be a hot mess. The thought of the time spent and the cash wasted will increase her resolve to never go back… at least for another week. Anything to get that fleeting glimpse of the girl with the straight hair reflected in the mirror.

Make coffee.