Hairy Experience

Do you like going to the hairdressers? Personally I don’t rate it. The experience sits with getting my teeth cleaned, or spending four hours on a National Express bus. But like all of those things, it’s sometimes a necessity. I was pretty wary of letting a Singaporean loose on my Irish locks, having heard horror stories of too many layers and looking like a bush afterwards (Asian hair is cut very differently), so walking past Toni & Guy earlier it seemed to be a good idea. Even in Oz, it’s a pretty pricey place, so I didn’t expect to be soaked by the person washing my hair, or told “You really should brush your hair more” by the stylist. She was a nice enough person, but there’s something aggravating about sitting in front of a mirror for over an hour while a stranger gives you tips on how to have better hair, when I know that I’ll go back to scrunching it with some nice smelling stuff and leaving it to dry in the sun. Oh no, apparently I’m using completely the wrong shampoo, not enough conditioner, I don’t wash my hair enough and I should really think about colour, because everyone’s doing it nowadays and if I want to keep up I’d better join the masses. Hmmm. I felt so rubbish about myself at the end of it that my first thought was to go and buy a whole new outfit! Reality soon hit though, and I went for sushi instead. It’s the green tea, it’s good for you :-)

Perth

Perth is a small city on a huge, wide river with boats and twinkling water reflecting the sun's rays. I'm told that it's almost winter here, but I'm incredulous - people are wearing shorts and flip flops! The cityscape has the appearance of being unreal - like a toy town made out of blocks that can be picked up, examined and put down in a different place. Time seems to have affected slow change here, the buildings have a 1980s feel, and the pace of life is gentle. But who could ask for a better place to spend a weekend? A gentle swim and a walk along a fairytale beach... I like it already.

On the move

An unfamiliar cityscape rolls past smeared windows, and I squint to make out lights – red, blue, white mainly, on predictably tall buildings. Tinny speakers on the airport bus churn out Bon Jovi at low volume, competing, just, with the engine noise. As the bus comes to a slow halt, I resignedly pick up my bags and walk through another grey airport corridor that will lead me, I’m told, to the domestic terminal, and my connection. I’m traveling again.

Whoever said traveling for work was glamorous obviously went on one exciting trip to a Munich tradefair in 1987, the hard bed and eyes scratchy from aeroplane air long forgotten. This morning I splashed cold water on my tired face at 6.30am, early for a Sunday, early for any day for me, and dressed in carefully thought-out black layers for the change in environment. I’m grateful now, as I stop at a bench to peel off my cardigan. It’s warm, warm enough to feel unsettled and slightly queasy. The food on the flight was below-average, and I suddenly realise that I’m ravenous… A glance at the departure board tells me there’s over an hour before the flight boards and I feel like a salad. But it’s Sunday evening and most of the shops are closing. I hurry, hoping to catch a café before closing... no such luck. I sigh and make do with a packet of rice crackers on the flight.

Nine Dragons

In the city of dragons
I chase a shadow
Through this crisp, cold night…
Toes turning blue in summer shoes
We climb, past forest and grey earth
Distant small dwellings.
An engine rumbles
A dog bark echoes.
Here’s a tall pink house,
Reaching its thin roof
Gracefully to the night sky,
With a slither of white light
From a vertical window.
I’m welcomed, this stranger, with
Red wine, drunk slowly,
Sardines, sausages from Waitrose
Talk of flamenco, school and you.
Through smalltalk
Blue eyes search for you
Down a valley to China
But I’ve missed you…
Chasing a shadow,
I’ve missed you.

One for the tourists...

What trip to Singapore would be complete without a trip to Raffles Hotel for afternoon tea? I headed there with my relatives for dim sum, scones, cakes and plenty of tea. It was lovely, but everyone (including us) spent more time taking photos - of the room, each other, the food - that I couldn't help but wonder if we'd all have been better off in a museum.

Durian

Singapore's national fruit is called the "durian", and it's got a fierce reputation for being one of those things to taunt foreigners with! About the size of a melon with spiky green skin, the inside holds pockets of vomit-yellow fruit. The most distinctive characteristic isn't the appearance of this spiky fruit, but the smell... akin to a toilet after a dodgy curry! Consequently they are banned on public transport and people cross the road to avoid a stall selling them at the side of the road. The people I live with, like many Singaporeans, love the durian though. I wanted to try it and tried to have an open mind as I put the slimy flesh into my mouth whilst holding my nose. Two mouthfuls were enough to convince me that I can leave the humble durian off my list of new favourites... even the pigs' trotters were better than this.

Up a mountain

A 45 minute journey on the MTR, and a similar-length, though much more precarious bus journey around Lantau Island, brought us to Ngong Ping, a Buddhist monastry on top of a small mountain. Ngong Ping has the largest statue of a seated Buddha in the world, and is reached by climbing up 260 steps. The weather was kinda misty though, so instead of a shining awe-inspring God in the sky, the Buddha took on a grey, dull appearance. There wasn't any hint of a religious experience due to the hoards of gibbering tourists (ourselves included). I was excited though, but as the bus climbed higher into the mist I realised my summer skirt and flip flops were a bit ambitious... Luckikly for us, a smiling lady at the ticket office took pity on us and provided these rather attractive knitwear items from lost property... a day to remember!

The kindness of strangers (part deux)

I've written about this before, but I'm constantly amazed at the kindness of strangers. I'm now an old hand at turning up in a new place and unashamedly using whatever contacts I can muster to meet new people. Hong Kong was no different... I had the name of one girl who invited me to a bbq on a rooftop, literally halfway up a mountain in the New Territories. En route with her and her fiance, we made small talk and chatted about mutual friends, as the KCR cut its way up through rocky ground. A few things in common, we managed to connect our not-so-disparate lives together. An hour's journey and a cab ride later, a fairytale village came into view... a lone pink house, reminiscent of a child's drawing, rose up to greet us, a single vertical window cutting down from the eves with a slither of light. It was cold, but as I shivered and climbed twisty stairs to the sky, I knew it was going to be cool. Over earthy red wine and charred sardines I heard stories of this foreign yet familiar land, inspiration oozing from each word uttered my way. They may not remember me, a girl in a blue shirt and inappropriate shoes, but I'll remember them.

Hong Kong

These few months have been such an eye-opener, so many new experiences. The familiar has been replaced with newness, and I'm not shocked by much nowadays... But Hong Kong was an awesome experience. It's everything that Singapore isn't - busy, noisy, bustling, dirty around the edges, full of neon signs. I loved everything about it, from paper lanterns suspended in the dark air, to skinny trams cutting through traffic. I hope I get to go back.

Buried alive...

I’ve never been one of those high-maintenance girls who spends half her salary on make-up and pampering, but I do love the odd treat, like anyone. All that kind of stuff is cheap here in Singapore, so when my visitors arrived they were keen to take advantage. A pedicure and manicure later, we were really getting into this pampering lark, and someone suggested a facial… Ahhh, lush, I thought. Just imagine lying in a dark room with cucumber on your eyes and gentle music…

A door slams in the distance and footsteps move along a corridor behind my head. I hear muffled voices, and two people laughing. The sounds drift away and I’m alone again in my head. My heart is beating fast under the blanket and the temperature is rising. I try to relax and think calm thoughts, but I’m overwhelmed. I can’t see anything; my eyes and mouth are sealed shut. Two small holes have been left for my nose, and as I reach my hand up to my face I realise that the weight on my face is two inches thick. The hardening mass reaches from my forehead to the top of my ribcage, and it’s hot, not just warm, but hot. This was meant to be relaxing, so why do I feel like I’m a prisoner? I try to be brave but all I keep thinking is “I’m being buried alive and paying for the privilege”. Twenty minutes later I’m set free, and walking outside to meet my aunt at a café I start to cry… was this what they meant when they said “pain is beauty?” If so I’d rather be ugly.

Busy busy bee!

These last few weeks have been pretty busy. My inbox and washing basket are full and I’m running to catch up on emails, friends, phone calls, birthdays etc. Sometimes life moves so fast that sleep eludes and everything is rushed. The start of April saw a busy week with all of our key contacts from Asia-Pacific coming to Singapore for networking. I spent most of the week chatting to people and snatching the odd glimpse at my email.

Oh! My God! I Miss You!

Too many people!

If the definition of an "extrovert" is a person who gets energy from being around lots of new people, then I'm definitely an introvert. I love people, I adore my friends and am missing you all like crazy, but talking to people I don't know isn't relaxing. One or two are ok, but these past few weeks I've met SO many new people that my E-Q is getting full. I've been travelling with work and this week all our regional contacts from the Asia-Pacific are here, so there are lots of new faces. I was talking to a guy earlier and it was as if my brain had the plug pulled on it, white noise flowed through my head and crackled. I think I need a holiday... I've got one coming next week when my mum and two aunts are coming to stay, so I'm looking forward to that...