Friday, January 13, 2006
Some dull details, by request
By overwhelming demand I am asked to describe the apartment in greater detail, and not just talk about the wildlife, there in. but first, it's funny sign time:
Where and how do I live? you ask. First of all there’s the location: It is somewhat remote by Singapore standards. The island, itself can be crossed by car in a little less than a half hour. (non peak traffic times) by coconut it can take up to six times longer. So, when they say “remote” they mean, “not down town”. I don’t mind. I think I have the busses all figured out and the trains are cake. (It’s a well-known fact that cake is much faster than coconuts. The coconut cake, oddly enough, is the fastest cake on record. Only bad news travels faster.) The only challenge is getting to the buses and the trains with less than five minuets spent walking. The reason for this is, ITS HOT! When it’s not roasting, it’s raining and just a little hot. Either way you are getting to work wet. I told the people that I worked with that the train station was a fifteen minuet walk from my house. No one could believe that anyone would walk anywhere for that long.
The building that I live in is a 15-16 story condo with a nice pool/ play area enclosed.
Singapore is safe (as long as you’re not a gay gum chewer or a on a speeding coconut.) but all the windows have bars. It must be a holdover from wilder times in the country’s past. In my place they seem to be only ceremonial as most don’t lock. In fact, the bars that were in my living room were plastic. They are now used as a drying rack in the bedroom. (For my wet running shorts not for any kind of dried meat franchise or anything.)
Inside the apartment is rather empty. With the exception of a couch, a table, some beds, a missing lizard and roach there ain’t nothing. Which makes the case of the missing roach even more unbelievable. The living room has a smallish balcony but I keep the door closed because IT”S HOT OUT THERE!
The girls each have a room, roughly 9x10’ I figure, when they get here they can figure out who gets which and whether they want to share a room and keep clothes in the other, or the other which-a-ways around. (aren’t you glad you’re reading this?)
Our room is a little bigger and has a nice big window so that the neighbors can watch a 44 year old put his underpants on in the morning. There’s a master bathroom, tub and shower. Another full bathroom with a tub/ shower. A guest bath that is just a seat and sink, and the maids bathroom. That’s a combo toilet/ sink/ shower/ phone booth/ humiliation chamber. What a lucky houskeeper!
Her room is roughly the size of a piece of plywood. 4x8’. Also, it’s outside. I was told that she would want it like that. No glass in the window. Just bars.
Which leads me to the cleaning.
When I was shown the place I was told that most people around here take their shoes off when the entered their home. I asked, “do most people go around with dirty feet? He said that in the Chinese tradition the woman washes the floor every day. I was like, “does this place come with a Chinese woman? …Cause if it doesn’t you’re barking up the wrong tree, Bub. I don’t even wash my hands once a day!”
My Chinese neighbor's front door.
Upon closer inspection I found that the people who lived there before left a few DNA samples for me to clean up. So the shoes stay on for the time being.
I asked someone at work to help me arrange for a biohazard team to go in there and clean up. The woman at work recommended her cleaning woman, but warned me she’s very expensive; $10 Sing per hour. (That’s $6.13 US) I was told she does a better job than her former cleaning woman who charges $5.00 Sing. I said, “How former is she? 1945?” That’s $3.06 folks! At that rate I could get two on 24 hour duty and it would cost about the same as dinner for two at Stella’s.
So now I’m thinking, what do I do when she gets there? I can’t just leave and let her clean. I don’t mean to sound cynical but if I were getting $6.13 an hour, and the owner wasn’t around, I’d gut the place. Straight up!
On the other hand, I would feel weird standing around watching her clean and even weirder sitting doing nothing. I don’t really like the servant thing. It’s too English. So what am I going to do? I have three days to decide.
Anyway, enough about the digs, let’s talk snails.
When the sun goes down the lush roadsides start to give up their inhabitance. Mostly snails. The little ones are pretty common. You don’t see them, you crunch them. But they can get quite big. The larger ones are roughly the size of a baby food jar sized alarm clock. I tried taking a phone picture but it was too dark. In fact, the snail was so big he looked at me and asked if it was for him.
Finally, Kleenex.
Our friends down here have developed a unique way of saving lunch tables. Most lunch areas are individual stands with shared tables in the middle. When lunch time rolls around and every one of Singapore’s 6 million people decided to eat where I’m going, the seats get snapped up fast. So what the women do is to put a packet of Kleenex on the table. It’s their way of reserving the table. The men don’t do it for some reason. But if you go in at the right time there are hundreds of packets lying around.
I know this observation isn’t really a world-beater, but it fits in nicely with my original intention; to weave a rich tapestry of understanding with a series of small observations. OH, here’s one now. Check out the prosperity pizza from Pizza Hut:
Whooooopa! Take that hunger!
Next time: I ate what?
Where and how do I live? you ask. First of all there’s the location: It is somewhat remote by Singapore standards. The island, itself can be crossed by car in a little less than a half hour. (non peak traffic times) by coconut it can take up to six times longer. So, when they say “remote” they mean, “not down town”. I don’t mind. I think I have the busses all figured out and the trains are cake. (It’s a well-known fact that cake is much faster than coconuts. The coconut cake, oddly enough, is the fastest cake on record. Only bad news travels faster.) The only challenge is getting to the buses and the trains with less than five minuets spent walking. The reason for this is, ITS HOT! When it’s not roasting, it’s raining and just a little hot. Either way you are getting to work wet. I told the people that I worked with that the train station was a fifteen minuet walk from my house. No one could believe that anyone would walk anywhere for that long.
The building that I live in is a 15-16 story condo with a nice pool/ play area enclosed.
Singapore is safe (as long as you’re not a gay gum chewer or a on a speeding coconut.) but all the windows have bars. It must be a holdover from wilder times in the country’s past. In my place they seem to be only ceremonial as most don’t lock. In fact, the bars that were in my living room were plastic. They are now used as a drying rack in the bedroom. (For my wet running shorts not for any kind of dried meat franchise or anything.)
Inside the apartment is rather empty. With the exception of a couch, a table, some beds, a missing lizard and roach there ain’t nothing. Which makes the case of the missing roach even more unbelievable. The living room has a smallish balcony but I keep the door closed because IT”S HOT OUT THERE!
The girls each have a room, roughly 9x10’ I figure, when they get here they can figure out who gets which and whether they want to share a room and keep clothes in the other, or the other which-a-ways around. (aren’t you glad you’re reading this?)
Our room is a little bigger and has a nice big window so that the neighbors can watch a 44 year old put his underpants on in the morning. There’s a master bathroom, tub and shower. Another full bathroom with a tub/ shower. A guest bath that is just a seat and sink, and the maids bathroom. That’s a combo toilet/ sink/ shower/ phone booth/ humiliation chamber. What a lucky houskeeper!
Her room is roughly the size of a piece of plywood. 4x8’. Also, it’s outside. I was told that she would want it like that. No glass in the window. Just bars.
Which leads me to the cleaning.
When I was shown the place I was told that most people around here take their shoes off when the entered their home. I asked, “do most people go around with dirty feet? He said that in the Chinese tradition the woman washes the floor every day. I was like, “does this place come with a Chinese woman? …Cause if it doesn’t you’re barking up the wrong tree, Bub. I don’t even wash my hands once a day!”
My Chinese neighbor's front door.
Upon closer inspection I found that the people who lived there before left a few DNA samples for me to clean up. So the shoes stay on for the time being.
I asked someone at work to help me arrange for a biohazard team to go in there and clean up. The woman at work recommended her cleaning woman, but warned me she’s very expensive; $10 Sing per hour. (That’s $6.13 US) I was told she does a better job than her former cleaning woman who charges $5.00 Sing. I said, “How former is she? 1945?” That’s $3.06 folks! At that rate I could get two on 24 hour duty and it would cost about the same as dinner for two at Stella’s.
So now I’m thinking, what do I do when she gets there? I can’t just leave and let her clean. I don’t mean to sound cynical but if I were getting $6.13 an hour, and the owner wasn’t around, I’d gut the place. Straight up!
On the other hand, I would feel weird standing around watching her clean and even weirder sitting doing nothing. I don’t really like the servant thing. It’s too English. So what am I going to do? I have three days to decide.
Anyway, enough about the digs, let’s talk snails.
When the sun goes down the lush roadsides start to give up their inhabitance. Mostly snails. The little ones are pretty common. You don’t see them, you crunch them. But they can get quite big. The larger ones are roughly the size of a baby food jar sized alarm clock. I tried taking a phone picture but it was too dark. In fact, the snail was so big he looked at me and asked if it was for him.
Finally, Kleenex.
Our friends down here have developed a unique way of saving lunch tables. Most lunch areas are individual stands with shared tables in the middle. When lunch time rolls around and every one of Singapore’s 6 million people decided to eat where I’m going, the seats get snapped up fast. So what the women do is to put a packet of Kleenex on the table. It’s their way of reserving the table. The men don’t do it for some reason. But if you go in at the right time there are hundreds of packets lying around.
I know this observation isn’t really a world-beater, but it fits in nicely with my original intention; to weave a rich tapestry of understanding with a series of small observations. OH, here’s one now. Check out the prosperity pizza from Pizza Hut:
Whooooopa! Take that hunger!
Next time: I ate what?
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]