Diary of an Expat in Singapore (20 page)

Let’s say you’re Italian and you grew up eating cheese every night. Let’s say you are now living in Singapore and you have a memory lapse and decide to indulge in your passion for cheese. Nothing will jolt you back to reality quicker than the receipt in your hand. You probably thought you were buying cheese not a Rolex. So if you’re planning on buying a lot of burrata, parmigiano-reggiano, or mozzarella di bufala (my personal favourites), you might as well book a trip to Italy… and save some money.

You drink wine.

There is a reason why expat brides-to-be in Singapore tell their guests coming from abroad to forget the marriage registry and just bring bubbly to the wedding. And no, it’s not because they have too many serving bowls. It’s Southeast Asia, remember? You can never have enough serving bowls.

You buy your fruit at Isetan.

What isn’t visible in the photo below is the word
SALE
, which makes the whole concept of one melon being sold for $59 Singapore dollars (that’s $47 US dollars, 35 Euros, or 30 British pounds) that much scarier. Publishers usually discourage writing specific prices in books because they will be outdated so quickly, but I have a feeling this price will still be shocking for another year or two.

You have a car.

In most countries, a car is a mode of transportation. Here it is an unveiled status symbol since you need to be a millionaire to own one. Elsewhere people boast villas or yachts. Not in Singapore. Here, to denote snobbery, one need merely claim: “We own a car. Nothing special. It’s really just to get us from here to there.” Sure. You know what they’re really thinking: “If you’d just worked a little bit harder.”

You have a child. That child goes to school.

Having children is a good thing, but if you’re an expat and that child goes to school… not so much. Home-schooling might suddenly become a viable option, unless of course, your child is Alexander and then you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than try home-schooling.

“Why did you make Alezander before me?”

Second-sibling syndrome or something else? This morning, Eliot decides she needs to sit on the one chair (out of the possible six) where Alexander’s school project is. After a blood-curdling yell…

Alexander asks: “Can’t you use your common sense?”

Eliot: “I don’t even know what that means.”

On a brighter note, when I ask my kids who their hero is…

Alexander answers: “I know you want me to say you.” No, I don’t. I mean unless you want to. Totally your call.

But Eliot responds without hesitation: “Alezander.”

Eliot might try riding the school bus again – after noticing that those who do get to wear a special tag.

Eliot’s stubborn refusal to ride the school bus is doing wonders for my exercise regime. She only took the bus on her very first day of school and then refused to get back on the following day. In her defence, even though the school is only about one kilometre away, the bus ride lasts more than half an hour. And since she’s geographically closest to the school she gets picked up first (and earliest), and has to stay on the longest. Hello, nausea.

“If Alezander never does his homework, are you going to send him to the orphanage?”

Boarding school… I said boarding school.

“Is God here right now?”