The DMV - Chapter II

I think the one thing I have found them most like America is Singapore is the DMV. Stupid rules, government bureaucracy, humorless desk clerks and a random alpha-numeric system of calling on customers designed primarily, from what I can see, to aggravate everyone to the point of complete distraction. I went to the DMV last February with the desperate hope that I could convert my US drivers license to a Singaporean license before it expired on my birthday. My strategy was gleefully upended by the Singaporean DMV Help Desk. I signed up to take the test anyway - once I get my meathooks in hope I find it difficult to let go - and decided that once I passed it I could appeal to the Singaporean sense of decency.

Ha ha. Surely I jest. I got a test date for late April. I studied for the damn thing; it turned out to be the most difficult exam I have taken since my physics final in college. I passed - with or without flying colors - didn't know, didn't care - and strode purposefully up to the counter when my number was called. The woman took my particulars, made copies, looked at my US license, paused, gave me a fish-eyed stare and said...

"Madam. You are expired."

I squared my shoulders, looked her straight in the eye and said; "That's funny. Because I feel ok..."

Needless to say she did not appreciate my humor. There was nothing to be done. Cannot. Lah. I was expired and that was that. I cajoled and begged and pleaded and I think finally, in a desperate attempt to clear her area of the Pesky American and get to lunch, she date stamped all my stuff and told me to come back with my non-expired license and see if they would convert it when I return in August.

She told me that by then, I will have passed my one-year mark for conversion, so if they do not honor my test date I can still get a license, but I will have to take a behind the wheel test, another written test and assuming I pass both, I will have a probationary license. I will be allowed to drive with a special Student Plate alerting other drivers of my pathetic inexperience. The good news is, with the "Student Plate" when people see me driving down the road, they can say; "Look at that S Car go!"

She didn't think that was funny either....

The desk

Last fall, I bought a desk. It was lovely and perfect and the wrong one was delivered at first. 'An omen,' I should have thought. 'Forget it,' I should have said. I did neither. I insisted on the correct desk, they delivered it. Happy happy.

A week or so before we left for Phuket, I opened the as-yet-empty cupboard and saw some sawdusty looking stuff. Hmmmm. I wiped it out, and figured I'd check it in a week or so. I hadn't used that cupboard at all, and I hoped it was residual. It wasn't. A week or so later, when I went to look more closely, I saw a number of little bore-holes in the desk, and a good deal more sawdust. A couple days after that, we sat down to dinner with the sweet accompaniment of a healthy population of termites swirling in the light fixtures. Gross.

I called my trusty Gemini Furniture Customer Service Rep. I was pretty pleasant, but the American in me expected some actual customer service. I explained my predicament, told them I had bought the desk from them and I was hoping for some kind of guarantee since they surely stood behind the merchandise they sell. I asked them to come get the desk and provide me with a voucher so I could pick out something else.

There are three things the Singaporeans say. Can. Cannot. Lah. Can means just that; 'Yes, yes we can.' Cannot is trickier. A 'cannot' can be reversed if the reversal strategy is presented properly. Lah means 'We are done here. No more discussion.' My customer service guy said; 'Cannot. Lah.' He told me they would pick up the desk, treat it, and return it to me. This was going to cost me $50. They could say with 'fairly high certainty' that they could pesticide the heck out of the thing and kill the little buggers. If they didn't, we could do this as many times as it took. For $50 each time.

I told them to come get it and not bring it back. I wasn't paying no stinking $50. I wasn't running the risk of having termites in my other furniture or my rented house. I did not want the desk in my house ever again and I was sorely disappointed in their terrible product and lack of guarantee. Lah.

They picked it up and called about a week ago with great news. The holes I thought were termite holes were actually not termites at all. Wasn't this wonderful? I could take my desk back without the constant worry about this type of pest invasion and the liability it would bring! Happy happy once again! He seemed overjoyed for me. I asked him what the holes were. He said....'Worms.'

I'm not telling what I said...

Indonesia

The day after we came back from Thailand, we headed out again to Jakarta. We had kept in touch with John during the time we were in Phuket, so we knew Andrew's team was doing ok. We knew they had won a couple, lost a couple, pitched well and the hotel was within walking distance of the fields. We also knew that John was mostly kind of overwhelmed by Jakarta in general.

We arrived at the airport and worked our way through immigration. There were three lines. One to pay the cost of the visa, one to receive the visa, and one to get all the stuff in our passports stamped. This took awhile. We had our US money, but we had to go to the bathroom, we got turned around and by the time we got through all those lines, the luggage carousel was down to just a few bags. None of them ours. Finding someone who speaks English in Indonesia is a bit of a challenge, even in an airport. I showed my airline information to a security guy, who lazily motioned down the terminal to another baggage claim area. We headed down there. Nothing was moving. We found our way to a sky hop who spoke English and explained our dilemma. He was so nice! He showed us back to where we came from, found our luggage for us and stacked it on a trolley. Then he took off.

Jenn and I exchanged frantic looks, and headed off after him. We had been given very strict instructions to use one of two cab services to get us to the hotel. We knew the cab ride could be up to an hour, and that Jakarta ain't Disneyland. We followed this guy past the cab stand and out onto the white curb. His brother or uncle or cousin's ex-con friend or whatever pulled up, and started putting our stuff in the back of his car. He asked us where we were going, told us he knew the place and told us we could pay him about a gazillion Indonesian Rupia to take us there. "Two pinks, three purples and a blue." Whatever, we weren't going anyplace with this guy. I admit I imagined our luggage headed down some freeway in Jakarta...but, we stole our stuff right back and headed back inside where we hired a cab from the agency we had been told to hire.

Jakarta is just about the most chaotic city I have ever seen. The traffic is horrific. Line markers on the road seem to be considered a quaint little notion that people ignore willy-nilly. Emergency vehicles are completely disregarded...our cab pulled out in front of an ambulance, but my guess is he figured if they were going to the hospital the guy inside was probably doomed anyway. The smog is so thick you can cut it with a knife. You can't drink the water, find a clean bathroom or eat half the food. It is a Shit Show.

We had fun anyway, though. We watched some pretty good baseball, hung out with friends on the sidelines and swam in the pool. One day we took a cab to a port city, where John learned that cabbies do not like to be told which route to take, and they are adept at communicating that in spite of an insurmountable language barrier. We had a little dinner celebration at the Marriott - you know, the one that has been bombed twice. We went through our share of metal detectors.

We had a great day at the port off the coast where we met some locals who work every day loading bags of fertilizer, cement and building supplies to take to Borneo and Sumatra. Their families live on the boats when they are in port, and then in the town when they are out at sea, since the trip is so dangerous. The boats looked like they could sink at any moment, but they are wedged into the port so tightly my guess is everyone but the very young and very old would probably have a chance to scramble off if the need arose. We rode from the end of the port into the 'seaport village' on a fishing boat that we pretty much took our life into our hands boarding, where we saw living conditions that made us all stop and count our blessings. The people were joyful and happy in spite of that - proud of their families and their children and it was a bit humbling...All in all a worthwhile trip.

However. I have seen, and conquered, and I ain't going back. I do love Indonesian batik and woodcarvings, but I will buy those in Bali.

Phuket

We had a couple choices for our Spring Break Trip. Andrew's baseball team was headed to Jakarta, Indonesia for 8 days, and we planned to go and watch him play. Eight days is a long time in Jakarta, though, so we decided to squeeze one trip in before we headed over there.

We decided upon Phuket. Phuket is in Thailand. It is its own little island, surrounded by a bunch of other islands. The cost to go there was reasonable, the resort we chose to stay at was reasonable, it was on the beach, and we decided it fit the bill for vacation spots.

More on the subject....but I will add that later.

Jenn's Here!

We missed Jenn so much over Christmas. We were sad that she didn't get to experience fully in the month that our family had together. That was the bad news. The good news, though, is that on March 11, she showed up in Singapore to spend her month with us. We were so glad to see her! She looked lovely and self-possessed and happy. She had two goals...to relax, and to get a tan.

We went easy on her at first...jet lag can really knock a person for a loop and that 'relaxation' thing was paramount. So...we went out for sushi, took a stroll down Orchard Road, and went to dinner with friends. She got to experience fish ball soup, lime juice in a baggie and sweating in the dead of winter. We went to the wet market, the flower shop and found our way around the island in a taxi or on the train. We went to the beach for a preliminary tan. It rained that day, but we had a great time anyway. She slept in, relaxed...ahhhh.

The first weekend she was here we planned a dinner with friends. Our job was to get Sri Lanken Crabs for a crab fest. A friend of mine and I had scoped this out weeks before. We found a guy who supplies to all the restaurants on the Island. He claims the crabs to be Indonesian Mud Crabs, though ("I just sell them. People call them what they want.") Whatever they are, we knew just where to go.

We got there early on Saturday morning. The place was pretty much empty - the restauranteers had picked up their merchandise already. There were a bunch of mangy dogs, and some crabs in tanks. We waited, and in walked a small guy in oversized rubber boots. He was drenched from head to toe and smelled extremely ripe. We tried to ask him about the crabs. He spoke no English. He waved his arms around a bit, and walked out the door. We followed him, assuming there would be someone out there for us to talk to. There wasn't, but the guy climbed into a huge tank of frogs and began grab them and count them and throw them into bags. We noticed right away that the boots were affording him very little protection...

Finally a guy we could communicate with turned up. There were no crabs available that day - they were sold out. I'm not sure about the frogs. We weren't ready for that yet, although I hear they are delicious....

We took a little day-trip to Malaysia to a pottery place, too. Jenn was unimpressed at first, but when she discovered a set of dishes she loved for the low price of about $35 US dollars, she perked right up. They weigh about 9,000 pounds, but she managed to get about half in her carry on...John will bring home the rest in his luggage this summer. Don't tell him tho. I want it to be a surprise.

The DMV

Singapore so different a place from anywhere I have ever lived. I do not consider myself a world traveler or anything, but I think it is safe to say most experiences we've had here confound every expectation. Except the DMV. They don't call it that here, of course...the name they use is something like Bureau for Automobile Driving, Testing and Ball Busting.

If one plans to stay in Singapore more than one year, one must get a Singapore Driving License. If one knows how to drive, and carries a valid foreign license, then one must just take a test of the convoluted, misguided and tedious laws of the road here. The book of rules is quite long, and it behooves the foreigner to study, since anything below a 90% is failing. Pshaw. How hard can it be?

I bought the book. I read up on rules, regulations, quirks and subtle nuances. I memorized the different markings on the road, which are - no lie - Zebra Stripes, Dotted Lines, Solid Zigzags, Broken Zigzags, Black Zigzags, Yellow Zigzags, Yellow Crosshatching and Yellow X's. I told John I was ready. He smiled knowingly, and said it was not that simple. He gave me a number and a password and asked me to top up his account when I got to the DMV, chuckled to himself, and sent me on my way.

Tossed me to the wolves was more like it. I went upstairs to the license area. I took a number and sat on a chair, watching the all-too-familiar, apparently world-wide system of calling alpha numeric numbers in random order. When I got up to the counter with my form, I was told I was in the wrong place. I was sent downstairs to the information desk.

At the information desk I was told to go to a computer screen, put in my green card number and 'particulars' and wait to be called. I was then led into an office where I was told to set up my account password, go outside to yet another computer, pay, "rest" for 10 minutes, then come back. The cost was $11.35. $6 for the test, and $5.35 for the account. If I waited too long to take the test, they would charge a maintenance fee, and I would need to 'top up' (aha). I paid and rested. After the rest period, I got my account login, and was told to go to yet another computer, and book a time for the test. The test times were all taken. What did I expect, I was asked. "It is so late in the month!" (the 8th!) I looked at March. Taken. April....blocked out. I found a DMV rep. "Too far in advance!" she told me; "Tests can't be booked more than 6 weeks out." I am sure I detected an eye roll from the one cheeky Singaporean I have met since I got here.

The good news is I can book my test online. The bad news is I have to head back to the DMV to take it. The good news is the cheeky girl told me she was headed to New York City in March and had seen on the weather history it was usually around 30 degrees, so she figured it was just like Singapore, which I thought was very funny. The bad news is my conscience prevented me from withholding the fact that the weather in the US is reported in Fahrenheit....

It seems that the cost of the test is another 50 bucks, and if I pass, the cost of the license is yet another 50. If I wait too long, I have to head back in, pay the account maintenance fee, and start the whole process over again. There was comfort in this system though. Believe it or not, it felt just like home.

Sink the Sub

When we first arrived in Singapore, we became friends with another couple. She is the expat. He is the dependant spouse in this patriarchal, chauvinistic society. That in and of itself is a riot. We enjoy them very much and after we moved we remained friends. After a couple months of living the Life of Riley, he began to feel unfulfilled. He was, after all, a fairly high power guy in the US. He found a site on the web - boredwhitepeople.com I'm guessing - and found himself a job teaching English to adults. The stories he tells about corralling these marginally interested quasi-adults from every conceivable corner of the world are pretty funny, and have made for some pretty entertaining conversation at dinner parties.

Last week, this friend asked me if I would help him take his class on a field trip. He had masterminded this thing he could only get his principal to agree to if he had another adult chaperon who was willing to spend the day with him and his students. I agreed - I seldom have anything pressing to do during the day anyway. The plan was to walk them to a local museum, then take a cross town bus to the park for lunch. His class for the day made up of a bunch of Indonesians, several Vietnamese girls, 3 Russian women and a Sri Lankan monk.

The day shaped up to be something akin to herding cats. We had a total of 42 'kids.' They were almost all late. Some took the elevator, some took the stairs. Some ran for the green light, some j-walked, and some headed left instead of right. They spoke about nine languages apiece, none of them English. Some were timid and some were really just not. Most of them had names I could not pronounce, much less remember.

This childlike group loved the museum. They took pictures, reveled at the exhibits and laughed at every one of the guide's corny jokes. They wanted their tickets and programs and the free bookmark. They used every bathroom on every floor. We really didn't have a lick of trouble until we left the museum....

Our ranks thinned considerably when we got on the bus. Most of the students were prepared to stay for the day, but simply lost interest. Some stood at the stop, and were still standing on the sidewalk when the bus pulled away. Some got off early. One girl turned a hideous shade of green and said more than a couple minutes on a bus was too much for her. We lost one kid, realized she was younger than anyone else and was probably the last person who we should have lost track of, and spent a goodly portion of time trying to track her down. When we got near the park our fearless leader, in typical male fashion, said he didn't have any lunch plans and turned the kids loose in the grocery store with the promise he would buy whatever they picked out. Bedlam. We got to the park. One of the girls was so determined to wash the fruit she insisted we walk a good quarter mile in the scorching heat to benches near the bathroom. More thinning of the ranks.

When we finally got settled we had a most delightful afternoon. The beach was beautiful. The kids were engaging and funny. All had stories to tell. They were happy to practice their English and tell about their countries and families and hear about ours. The monk sat quietly, the Indonesians giggled and the Vietnamese shared their stories of home. The Russians told us how to make vodka. Something about honey and honey comb and spinning and fermenting and 'Woala! Wodka!" I have a feeling there was an ingredient or two missing...

It was quite a day, but by 2 or so I had to get home. I wandered off to find a cab out, since the cross town bus is not my style. I got in a queue and climbed into a cab with a frantic cabbie who had no map, no GPS and was about halfway through his first day. He implored me not to ask him to take me all the way home since he wasn't sure he could find his way back. I told him to drop me at the 'red line' and took the train. I figured there was no better way for the day to end...

Thaipusam

In the early months we were here, a lady I met told me about the feast of Thiapusam. This feast is the celebration of the birthday of the Hindu deity, Subramaniam. From what I understand, this is the time of year when the Hindus who have appealed to this particular deity for certain favors fulfill the vows they have made to participate in this very specific form of self-flagellation in honor of her when these favors are granted. It is a form of thanksgiving, not penance. For me, it was like a 5-car pileup on the freeway. Horrifying, but morbidly compelling to watch. But just once, thank you very much.

'Little India' is the part of Singapore that, based on my months of observation, is a veritable hotbed of crazy stuff. They have fire walkers, parades, wet markets and silk traders. Their colors are brighter, music is louder and prices are better than anywhere on the island. It takes a bit of getting used to, but it is my feeling that the pulse of Little India beats stronger than it does anyplace else. Plus their food is fabulous and they eat with their hands, an acceptable substitute for chopsticks as far as I am concerned...I have limited the amount of curry I eat...after awhile it comes out my pores and my family can't live with me...but I digress.

I got up at the crack of dawn on Saturday and headed out. (Some of us who shall be nameless wimped out and found other things to do.) We went to the main road, where many of the participants were already decked out and had begun their 4km walk from one temple to another. They were carrying ornate 'kavadis;' big metal frames decorated with peacock feathers, silver blingy stuff and sometimes oranges and tangerines. I saw one guy carrying a fancy umbrella, but they all mostly looked pretty similar. Some looked kind of heavy - a conservative estimate would be about 30 pounds - and took 3 men and a boy to lift. Sounds pretty benign, until you factor in the way they carry them. Fellow believers, hopefully not guys named Louie who always wanted to be a doctor but never quite made the grade, put a series of fishhooks and skewers through the top layers of skin and attach ropes and pulleys to them. Then they attach these posts which they skewer through the love handles conveniently located in the lower back to this whole contraption. They perch the kavadi on top of all this support stuff and, surrounded by family and friends who I bet are all secretly happy not to be in the hot seat, set out down Serangoon Rd. It's a 4 km walk, and a lot of them plod along, looking pretty entranced or stoned or maybe just miserable, but a fair number of them were twirling and dancing and making quite the show of the whole thing. At the end they cue up, waiting to have all their bling removed. It was pretty darn unbelievable.

I didn't have the stomach to watch the dismantling, but I was pretty impressed with the endurance of the participants. I was glad I went and I certainly recommend it to anyone who visits Singapore. Anyone who cares to visit during next year's celebration....I will give you a train pass and a map and you can see it for yourself. Count me out, though. Once was enough...

Quite the Holiday - and I'm not lion!!!

I am a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic. I was raised in the United States, which, no matter what our current administration says, is a Christian Nation. All my life I have harbored the happy little delusion that everyone else is just like me. I was wrong.

It is Chinese New Year in Singapore. This is the time of year when all things are made new. Kids get new clothes. There are sweets and gifts and celebrations. It is the event of the year for the Chinese and they really know how to throw a party. For me, it is the thing that makes me acknowledge that non-Christian cultures are alive and well and the people who practice them are as committed as anyone...

All personal effects must be either washed or replaced. A friend of mine went to the dry cleaner in January and was told her stuff would take at least 2 weeks. "Chinese New Year," the owner told her unapologetically. Apparently he felt 14 days was a reasonable seasonal turnaround. Homes must be completely cleaned. This is partly for the New Year - family, friends and in-laws will surely be over at some point - and partly because luck can apparently be swept out of the house, wiped off the counter and dumped down the drain, so nothing can be cleaned throughout the 15-day holiday. The loss of luck in a drain or dustpan can haunt a family for a year. A terrible thing, that. Knives must be put away - if, when cutting say, an apple, a person cuts himself, he can bleed the luck right out of his body, also for a year. Gifts are given in the form of Hung bao - a small red envelope normally filled with cash. Cash must be doled out in even numbers - 8 is best. Not 4, though. 4 is bad - death, to be exact. Oranges are given out willy nilly - in pairs, since one on top of the other makes an 8. But they have to Mandarins, since the word for mandarin in Chinese sounds a lot like the word for luck or prosperity or wealth.

My favorite thing about the holiday is the Lion Dance, though. We had a little block party where these guys showed up. It was noisy and interesting and the kids loved it. So much so that I went out and bought a lion for Matt's classroom. I may get a drum too...

Last Days...

We filled our last days with our family together with as much fun as we could. We headed out to the Night Safari, Chinatown and Little India. We spent one day at Sentosa Island; an overpriced tourist mecca where we started on a luge ride and ended up sitting on the beach watching the kids have diving and splashing and belly flop contests. Phil won, but he was only willing to belly flop once... One day we went to Andrew's school to try out the bat he had received for Christmas and Phil and Matt ended up playing in a pick up baseball game where Andrew was elected field ump. Phil, who has not played baseball since 3rd grade, hit a double; Matt knocked in a home run. We went to dinner with friends, and spent a couple days at the wake board park where we watched the boys and the dads play on boards with varying degrees of success. (The moms were smart enough to hang on the sidelines, drink beer and take pictures...) The older boys went to Kuala Lumpur on New Year's Eve, while we stayed behind and spent the evening with friends. We talked, and laughed, and read, and played video games. We spent a lot of time being thankful for one another, and for this opportunity to see a place we never expected to see. It was quite the experience.

In the end, we took them to the airport so they could return to school. We miss them every day. We so enjoyed having our boys with us. Not a minute went by that we did not wish our daughter was there too, but in spite of that we had one of the best times together any of us can remember. And for next year - hopefully more of the same, but next time, we are hoping all six of us will be there...

Something Fishy.....

We returned from Langkawi the day after Christmas. We spent a day or so relaxing, opening gifts and playing X-Box. Since the big boys had just 10 days left here, though, we didn't want to waste much time...there was still much to see and we wanted to give them the full experience. Plus there were just a few things Phil had yet to see because we frankly saved them so we could get the maximum entertainment value. For us. One of these little excursions was the Fish Spa.


At the Fish Spa, there are three long tanks set up that are filled with a whole bunch of very benign looking guppyish fish. They swim around looking, well, benign. The truth is, these little critters are suckers for dead skin. Literally. According to Ancient Asian Lore; as in, 'We figured this out last year, we think on a Tuesday;' there is great value in sticking your feet in the water amongst these little cuties and letting them eat the dead skin off your feet. (Personally, I am of the opinion that the greatest value is to the people who charge the 30 bucks a pop to partake, but whatever.) It serves as an exfoliation, massage, and soul cleansing experience. For us, it was a spectator sport.


The boys are extremely ticklish, especially Matt. Since I stuck my feet in the very same water last summer, I knew how tickly this little endeavor is. We armed ourselves with the camera, promised the boys a good time and took them to the Spa. It was hilarious. At first, neither of them could keep their feet inside the water for more than a couple minutes. They giggled and laughed and had all the people in the room laughing right along with them.



They managed, finally, to keep the ol' size 13's in the water for the requisite half hour. Requisite because we pre-paid for the experience. They conceded that it felt pretty good - a little weird, but not intolerable. They pulled their freshly exfoliated feet out of the water and we headed back out. It was quite the experience for both of them; one we all agreed ya just can't find in the States...

Merry Christmas!

As part of our Christmas Adventure at the First Resort, we were obligated to buy the Christmas Eve dinner. The cost was not as prohibitive as it seems, based upon the exchange rate. (Contrary to my last post, the exchange rate is $3.35MR = $1.00US) The staff spent the day setting up a stage and tables along the shoreline along with serving areas and a stereo. We were looking forward to an evening of food, drink, and a break from the disco Christmas CD that had been playing ad nauseum for the past 5 days.

We got down there fashionably late, and staked out a place in our favorite waiter, Regie's, section. People were dressed to the nines. We looked, comparatively speaking, like inbred hillbillies. Lucky for us Ol' Regie didn't mind. He was missing his family and had decided we were it for the week...He kept us well fed and made sure we didn't get thirsty. The food was unbelievable, we had a visit from Santa, who I daresay flew in on his 3 Sheets with the Wind - I guess the sleigh was out of commission - and the stage sported a lovely young woman who could really belt out a song. It was the first decent music we had heard all week...

Details of the night are a bit sketchy, but suffice it to say we had more food that anyone should be able to justify eating, perhaps a bit more drink as well, and the night ended with all of us (even the sober ones...) in Santa hats, onstage, singing 'I Will Survive." If this is one of your favorite songs, be glad you were not in the audience...We Taylors cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Alcohol does not help. We had a great time, though. We missed Jenn and went to bed wishing she had been there with us. Would have been the perfect chapter ending to what was shaping up to be a pretty unorthodox Christmas....