We love daddy!

Livin' local

I'm not the kind of person who wants to dive right into a new culture and try everything. I tend to be fairly cautious. I've noticed that when you encounter something new in a culture, there are three ways you can react: that's wrong, that's different, or that's better. I have learned to get past the "that's wrong" reaction to most things (otherwise you'll always hate where you live) but I leave a lot of other aspects of a new culture in the "that's different" category, rather than actually trying them.

So it's been a new experience for me in the last few weeks to try something new in my host culture. This to most of you will seem like the smallest, most banal thing, but I'm pretty proud of it: I have learned how to back into parking spaces. To me, this represents a cultural adjustment because you will find in any car park that almost every single car is backed into place. I've discovered that it's actually much easier than driving straight in because you have three mirrors to guide you. I find this invaluable. It now falls into the "that's better" category for me.

Now, I still don't hang my clothes out the window on a long stick to dry and I don't leave my door open in the evening instead of turning on the air, but maybe one of these days I'll try them. So if you're feeling like branching out, try the backing in thing, see what you think. Let me know how it goes.

Backwards Theology

Last week at our church Bible study, someone brought up the question of why God allows suffering, especially since non-believers often use it as a reason to doubt His existence. When ensued was about 1/2 hour of people giving pat answers to why God allows it. Everyone meant well, but it's not the kind of thing you can solve in sitcom time.

Our leader, who is a friend of mine, ended the discussion by saying something I have been turning over in my mind since then: We cannot look at our circumstances to tell us who God is. We have to look at the cross, look at the Bible, look at God, to see who God is. Then, we let God tell us about our circumstances.

Now that might seem blatantly obvious, but in examining my own life, I can seen how often I make judgments about God based on what is happening around me. We all do. We say, "How can God allow hurricanes to cause such devastation? How can He let children die and people get cancer and a million other tragedies . . .?" And our conclusion then, "He must not be good." It's so backwards. We need to look at our circumstances through the filter of who He is, not the other way around. We start with the truth that God is good, and that He works all things for the good of those who love Him. I'm not saying that when we do that, everthing magically makes sense, but from my experience, I see things in a totally different light.

Anyway, just something I've been mulling over. It's late here and time for bed. Hopefully when I read this in the morning, it will be as coherent as it seems now.

Flying solo

Erik is in the middle of an 11 day trip out of the country (or out of town, if you prefer. It cracks me up that you can say either and be right). I have built up my solo parenting skills over time as his traveling has increased in recent years, but the tough part is when he's gone over the weekend. This time, it's two weekends (cue sad sympathetic music). But God has blessed us so richly that I've had to turn people down who have offered to help because we're so busy! Every day this week we've had someone over or gone to someone's house. Today some of our friends from Bible study are taking the kids for dinner so I can have some time for myself. Yesterday my friend Karen took them for two hours, just in the nick of time let me tell you because I was at the cracking point. (the cracking point for me means pulling out a second diet coke for the day - I don't drink coffee, so this is my addictive stimulant of choice. Side note: if you'd ever really like to bless me, bring me something diet that isn't coke. There's a shortage of diet pop in Singapore).

In other news, I started a small group Bible study at church last week on the topic of intimacy with God. It's unbelievable what I've already learned. I may even break my sharing adventures pattern to tell you about it here on my blog. But I can't right now because I hear strange crashing sounds coming out of my dining room involving homemade guns (made out of homeschool math tools) and something about shark infested tile. And so my solo adventure continues.

Gecko poop

Today I was cleaning a cobweb out of my corner and noticed that there were funny brown chunks like dirt along the ledge that hangs about two feet from my ceiling. I've decided that this must be gecko poop. I am not kidding when I say this - I'm certain that's what it is. Not only have we seen geckos in our apartment frequently, once in awhile a hidden one makes itself known by that loud sound they make. It usually happens early in the morning when I get up to exercise and it scares the willies out of me. I don't care what anyone says, that sound is nothing like "geck-oh." (they say that's how they got the name).

So this is a new thing for me. I really never thought I would find myself one day cleaning gecko poop off my walls. But here I am.

If it makes you feel better

So gas here is S$1.85 per liter or thereabouts. Those reading this in the U.S. might be paying the same in U.S. dollars per gallon. Or maybe more, I don't know. Well, let me translate this for you. When you convert liters to gallons and Sing dollars to U.S., we're shelling out a whopping $4.25 per gallon. So the next time you fill up and think that you're draining your checkbook in the process, think of us and drive an extra mile or two in celebration.

I love a rainy night

As I type, the sky is flashing and thundering at a constant rate. I was counting the time between lightning and thunder a short time ago (3 seconds is one kilometer) but I stopped when they became simultaneous. I don't know that I remember a storm quite this intense before here, though it rains at least every other day.

I love it. This is one of the things I missed when we lived in China, where our part of the country rarely rained. I'd like to go to sleep right now, lulled by these crazy sounds. It makes me feel safe and sheltered.

As a post note to Ethan's hospital trip - they were unable to remove the popcorn last night. I had to take him back in today where they planned to put him under because it was too painful. Fortunately, the doctor was able to suction it out enough to use a pick the rest of the way. It was a bit painful and he can't swim for a week, so I think that should help with the "don't stick anything smaller than your elbow in your ear" lesson. Feel free to use this situation as a learning tool for any of your children.

Another side note, I totally chopped my hair off today. It's just too blazing hot here for hair. If I had the guts, I might shave my head. As it is, I have a nice chin length bob with bangs that are about halfway there. A little shorter than I planned but that's why it's a good thing I'm not a Barbie doll - once you cut her hair, it's pretty permanent. And that's the news from a wet Singapore.

Experimenting with holes in your head

I suppose for every child, especially boys, there come a time in life where you have to experiment with what can, and cannot, fit into various holes in your head. This might involve a marble up the nose, a golf ball in the mouth, I don't know. In our case, Erik has just left to take Ethan to the emergency room to remove a popcorn kernel from his ear.

Here's how it happened: The kids were eating popcorn, and Megan came to me saying, "I don't want them in my ears!" I saw that Ethan had his fingers in his ears and was looking at Megan like a likely guinea pig for whatever ear experiment he was doing. I told him not to stick his fingers in Megan's ears (since that seemed like the extent of what he wanted to do).

A minute later, Ethan came to me with a mixed look of panic and sadness saying, "Mommy, I can't get it out of my ear." Sure enough, a kernel was pretty far in there. Erik and I tried gingerly to get it out with a tweezers, but I was hovering too much between hysterical laughter and outright panic so I couldn't do it. I sent them off to the hospital, where they will probably remove it with a tweezers and charge us $100.

This feels like a milestone every mother passes, one which I can put in the same memory folder as "knocked his tooth out on the tile steps" and "free fell off his lofted bed onto a pile of pillows" - you know, the ones that make the blood drain from your face, but thankfully you can kind of laugh about later.

Detached

Recent events in the U.S. are, I'm sure, in everyone's hearts and minds there. Not unlike 9/11, I imagine, though it seems the response to it has been somewhat different from various sides. I suppose you can't pick up a paper, turn on the TV, or to go work or a social gathering without being caught up in discussion about it. This kind of thing changes a country, affects the core of it, clarifies who we are and how we treat one another.

That is why sitting 6,000 miles away is like watching life happen from behind a sound proof window, the kind where you can see in but they can't see out, so it doesn't matter what I say, no one will hear. My knowledge of it is limited to whatever biased reporting appears on the internet. If not for the internet, I would hear nothing about it at all (partly due to a choice not to have TV or newspaper). It lends to a feeling of being detached. A friend of mine after 9/11 said, "It's like we're not being given a chance to mourn." I felt that way when a woman asked me if New York was near my house. I said no, and her response was, "oh, so then it didn't affect you."
This doesn't have the same strength of feeling as that, but there is a sense of built identity that you don't participate in, like when your family goes on a trip without you.

I Speak Good English

Today at Mustafa (yes, I go there alot) I saw a book called "1,000 Commonly Mispronounced English Words" and my first thought was, "according to whom?" It seemed like it was written for people learning English with an Indian language being their first - I was disappointed that it was shrink wrapped so I couldn't look in it.

I've mentioned before that often I can't understand the Singaporean accent. Once in MacDonald's the server had to ask me three times if I wanted "oats" on my yogurt. How differently can you say the word "oats"? In addition to the accent, there are words they say differently, like "metabolism" which is pronounced, "met-a-BOL- ism." Or aluminum which is "AL-u-MIN-ium." Ethan's name is pronounced "Ee-tahn" and Megan is "Mee-gahn." I've noticed they usually place emphasis on different syllables than American English.

Not only do they pronounce things differently, they have different words for many things, mostly British. Like shopping cart is trolley, parking lot is car park, elevator is lift. They don't "turn on the light", they just "on the light" or "off the light." And when the Indians speak English it can sometimes take me a full minute to realize that I should be able to understand them.

I say this not to knock Singaporeans or Indians, but rather, to point out that there isn't one correct way to speak English. As English becomes more and more global, can we ever really define what "real" English is?

Bow to the gods of bureaucracy!

For the first year that you live in Singapore, you don't need to get a driver's license. This seems counter intuitive, since I know far more about Singapore street laws now than I did a year ago. But who am I to question this small glimmer of freedom?

After a year, you need to change your driver's license to a Singapore one. Erik and I are in the process of doing this. Today we drove (oh the irony) to the License Bureau. We had to take numbers and wait for about two hours before we could sit down with a clerk. We were required to bring our passports, work permits, and of course money. We had a bit of a hiccup when we didn't produce our actual work permits but merely photocopies of them. The clerk had to check with a few people to make sure that was ok. We took brief eye tests, and then were able to schedule a time to take our tests. Yep. All that work just to schedule the test.

So a month from now (because it's always at least a month later) we get to go back to the same place, making sure that we bring our real work permits, and spend an hour answering questions like "When should you use the hand brake? a) whenever you stop, b) only when stopping on slopes, or c) whenever the foot brake is faulty. The correct answer is a, fyi, according to Singapore standards. I think we're going to have to study.

Driving defensively

I've been easing back into driving here in Singapore. Aside from driving on the left side (which isn't that hard really) I have the added anxiety of driving in high traffic. I've been driving for two months in rural Minnesota. There are places where you could lay on the highway for hours without getting hit. People on every side make me edgy.

I've had a few, well, let's call them "mishaps" rather than "things that could have warranted a fine" since I got back. First of all, I'm a pretty nervous driver. My friends and family, if pressed, would probably say that they don't enjoy driving with me cause I act like everyone out there is going to pull an idiot move and hit me. It's called being defensive. One step short of totally paranoid. In contrast, my husband Erik makes me nervous with his overconfident driving. We've developed a signal - if he's ever driving too close to someone or something else that makes me feel an accident is imminent, I go limp. You know, because if you're relaxed in an accident you're less likely to get hurt.

Anyway, earlier in the week I was so concerned about making sure I was going to be in the correct lane at the next stoplight that I blew through the crosswalk stoplight right in front of me. Fortunately, the woman had only started to cross and was nowhere near my car yet. Immediately after that I was almost sideswiped by a taxi and then a truck who both thought it necessary to enter my lane with great haste. So all that really upped my white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

Today I drove to the grocery store and noticed that the car park there doesn't bother me nearly as much as it used to. Then I found a rare parking spot near the market and I started thinking, "See, this driving thing isn't so bad. I'm getting the hang of it again!" And as I left the market, I turned the wrong way down a one way street.

I noticed my mistake right away and thought, "Maybe I can just back up onto the street again." Sure enough, someone had pulled up but in the right lane instead of the left so I could correct my mistake. But wait, were those lights on that car? Brilliant! I had managed to pull my idiotic move right in front of a police officer. I started praying, "Please don't pull me over. Please just . . . wait. Are they laughing? They are kind of laughing. Not outright laughing, but definitely smiling. I think they're going to ignore me!" It felt like I'd done some kind of Jedi mind trick, "Drive away. Forget about the stupid foreign woman who turned the wrong way." So much for my driving finesse.

My life in a commercial

This afternoon I had the sadistic impulse to push 100 pounds of kids and double stroller to Mustafa for groceries. Mustafa after 2 p.m. is like Target the day after Christmas. But what can I say? We needed food. And hand soap. But it turned out to be an amusing outing.

I passed two women, one who appeared to be the mom of the other, both pushing single strollers. The younger one commented in Chinese that my stroller seemed quite useful (she actually called it a "train"). I thought, "This would make a perfect commercial: "Sick and tired of making your mom push one of your kids every time you go somewhere? Get the Graco Duo Glider!"

Then, two women passed us on bikes. They were squinting into the sun and one said to the other that I had the good idea to wear sunglasses (this was also in Chinese). Cut to commercial, "You don't want to get early wrinkles from squinting do you? Then buy these fabulous sunglasses right now at Walmart for only $5!" I was still chuckling about that when I walked in the door of Mustafa and the guard exclaimed, "Ehhhh, double double!" which you have to read with a strong Indian accent to understand why it amused me.

After 15 minutes of crazed grabbing to get out as soon as possible, I noticed a huge display of Corn Flakes, "imported from England" for the bargain price of S$7.80 a box. I was contemplating what a boring box it is - white, with that red and green chicken that looks freaky without an actual eye - when two women walked over, picked up a box and literally oohed and ahhed. One said, "oooooh" and the other said, "Ahhhh" and then talked about the cereal. I thought at that point, "Ok, is there a camera following me?"

In all the excitement, I forgot to buy bread.

It's downright balmy!

Since we've been back, we have been blessed in the weather department. I think God knows we need to ease back into things. It's been cloudy most days, which makes it relatively cool, albeit still quite humid. It's usually somewhat breezy though so you don't notice the humidity so much until, say, you realize that you forgot to put parking coupons on your car and have to run across a huge park before the parking nazi discovers you. Then you sweat.

Strangely, weather.com says that it is currently 84 degrees with 84% humidity making it feel like 95. I have to disagree. Must be that 7 mile an hour wind. Please don't let this scare anyone off from visiting. You get used to it, really.

Ok, still off to swim before the sun comes out and drives that UV index up to 11.

Up at the crack of dawn

Getting up at the crack of dawn in Singapore is actually a good thing for our family, because it happens at about 7 a.m. every day. It seems this morning we finally got over the hump of jet lag. When our kids ventured out at 7 and 7:15 respectively, they were not only awake but cheerful.

I myself slept from 9:30 to 6:15, sleeping through my alarm which means I was really tired. I'm the kind of light sleeper who wakes up when people in the next apartment roll over. Suddenly, we all have a new lease on life and I have the energy to move out of our complex. We hopped in the car this morning and went to a park. Driving again in Singapore is fodder for another post later. Right now, we're off to the pool!