Dreams

I dreamed that we were back in Colorado and had decided at the last moment not to come to Singapore. In the way dreams are for me, each realization of the decision led to another problem of not coming here after having decided to do so. So, we told our friends, and then we told our bosses, and then I realized in the dream what an opportunity we missed by not coming here. In the dream I went out for a night of hard drinking with my high school friends who were now adults, and I kept saying to them, "You just don't understand." The setting for the debauch was some sort of governmental building, and I kept leaping out of the ground floor windows onto the grass outside. It was the early morning in the dream.

I was glad to wake up.

Went running this morning and serendipitously found the Singapore Botanic Gardens and so ran in. It was as beautiful as anything named the Singapore Botanic Gardens would be; just imagine it and you've got it. Inside were pods of people exercising in the different pocket parks throughout. Many of the pods were old Chinese Singaporeans doing T'ai Chi (I think I got the apostrophe right), but other pods were twenty- and thirty-something westerners being led through P90-X-type workouts with stern-looking, spandexed trainers. The juxtaposition of cultures in that bucolic setting was stark and funny to me.

On the subway yesterday to see Callie (who has six days of quarantine to go), it lurched a bit coming to a stop at a station. A very old and very small Malay Singapore man next to me who was waiting at the door started to fall. I reached out and caught him under the arm and held him up. He looked at me and said, "Thank you," and smiled and then went on his way. Human instinct.

The children of the new teachers here have started to make friends with each other. As we sat on a tour trolley yesterday, the adults listened intently to the tour guide's diatribe. The children sat outside of the air con cabin at the back of the trolley and, as we wound our way along Beach Road and through little quays, sang pop songs together with gusto.

To have a housekeeper or not to have a housekeeper: that is the question.

It's funny: many of the families here are coming from non-western places like Taipei or Hong Kong or Jakarta or Shanghai and, because of what Singapore offers, can live in a middle class way with a house, a yard, and a car for (perhaps) the first time. They are very eager for that. We, on the other hand, are moving in the opposite direction and relish the idea of an apartment with no yard work and a very excellent pool, a short walk to shops, and a subway stop. We are very eager for that. Funny.

When one gets a to-go drink in Singapore, one does not get a sleeve on the drink to hold it upright. Of course, there is a different, Asian way to do it instead. The server will put a little plastic handle around the middle of the cup so that you can carry it as it hangs down. Much easier and more convenient for walking. Will post picture.

There's a colonial building at the end of the lane of our current hotel, and I learned that Japanese officers lived there from '42 to '45 when Singapore was part of Japan.

The trees here grow to hundreds of feet tall and have canopies of leaves just as wide. I regret that after a while, I will probably stop feeling awe at the sight of them, but maybe not. I saw a banyan yesterday that was impossibly complex, root-wise. Never did a tree look so alive. It looked like it belonged in Yoda's swamp.

IKEA is pronounced "icky-uh" here. Heading to Ickyuh Thurs for furniture.