Champagne, Midnight Stroller Walks & Plastic Fish Don't Mix

A bus has driven us through the downtown areas of Tampines, into neighboring Simei. From there its a train through to Outram Park on the East West Line that slowly drops below ground as we speed along, and from there to HarbourFront on the North East Line never seeing the rising skyscrapers above us, before finally riding the Circle Line train to Telok Blangah, an out of the way station that drops us right next to a strip mall and a highway walkway overpass.

The time between changing trains has been wisely spent playing a boggle word search type game on my boyfriend's iPhone, to mild success of distraction. The man standing beside us with too much Old Spice helped a bit as a diversion from our traveling, I'll remember to thank him if I ever see him again... yes, I do expect strange, somewhat affronted facial expressions when I do.

Its taken us over an hour but finally we've arrive... time to get smashed at our first night at Singaporean clubbing!

We arrive at our friends and quickly have to sign a permission slip to enter the building at the parking garage guard station, a bulky Indian man and his much older Asian companion who doesn't move from his chair. Both smell of sour sweat, having to sit so long in full gear and uniform, I can't fault their hygiene. After all, two men walking up to the post with a case of beer at the sundown could sound like a bad, Die Hard-esque movie just waiting to happen.

Upon collecting our friends, its now another vehicle hauling along our group, a cab driving us to... a club called the Buttery Factory... don't ask me why the hell its called that... I asked everyone but not a single one could offer me anything but a giggling shrug of confusion.

While still trying to wrap my head around this oddly named club, I nearly trip over my feet when I realize we've arrived in Marina Sands, the most iconic place in all of Singapore. What does this water-front boardwalk have that makes it possibly the most recognizable place in all of Singapore, possibly the world... that would be the grand Marin Bay Sands.

This 55-story casino is three giant towers rising into the air, holding up the Sands SkyPark, a hectare of open air land known for holding the largest elevated swinging pool in the world, well known for its infinity edge, the pool literally pours into oblivion.

My view however is blocked as we queued up to the club, or as all the signs say in Singapore "Please Q-Up" and to add to our confusion of the Butter Factory it appears tonight's theme is under the sea. It has to be one of the few places where Halloween is taken seriously. From bouncers to hostesses to organizers are dressed up as fish, mermaids and everything under the waves. It's always fascinating to see an organizer check your group into its table while trying to balance a full fish-head costume on his shoulders.

Inside the... Butter Factory's Undersea-themed party... the music is both an odd mix of American pop, a sprinkling of K-Pop and even a few remixed... including "Surfin' Bird" or as most people know it thanks to Family Guy's Peter Griffin "The Bird is the Word"... Google that I'll wait... fine, your now distracted by a kitten wearing sunglasses... we will have to continue on without you then.

Waiters serve drinks dressed as sharks, a merman in a skin suit (or a green S&M outfit, couldn't tell it was dark) welcomed guests at the door and foam masks are being handed out like candy to the club goers, a few of the more inebriated ones gleefully wearing them over their fashionable club going outfits.

The clothes worn are no different then what you'd see in New York, though even in the hot weather of Singapore you still see people out in jeans, knee-length dresses and long-sleeve shirts. Its as if the heat doesn't even register. Though a mid-afternoon storm did help to cool down the air, I can still feel the pricking sweat running down the back of my knees and that sticky feeling of your shirt getting stuck to your lower back.

We sit down to our table, said to seat twenty but after getting six of us on it, all the cushions have been filled and we've physically squeezed together in a way no friend should. I find the music a bit predictable and the drinks are not exotic or surprising, so I guess that's what causes my eyes to start wandering and observing the surroundings. Don't roll your eyes! I may not appear so now but I've been tempered and jaded to clubs and party life. I went through my clubbing phase, with such gusto and insanity that it would make the Jersey Shore's collective stomachs flip. Imagine the combination of an MTV Spring Break Special, mixed with the a splash of the raunchier bits of Showtime's Queer as Folk and toss in some cursing and nudity, plus a bit of random and confusing plots courtesy of HBO. Now compress all this into the span of only two years with no breaks, pauses or rehab and you can wonder why I'm barely on speaking terms with my liver anymore.

I'm trying to find something to catch my attention, save for attempting to hear my friends talk over the sound of the music, though our conversations quickly devolve into shouting spit into each other's ears. It's then that I look outside, maybe to catch another glance at the architectural wonder of Marina Sands Casino (so sue me, I'm an amateur architecture buff). Our table is right at the angle where the corner of the building blocks our view. Disappointed I let my eyes wander and then I notice the sidewalks... the sidewalks and broadwalks that aren't crowded with club goers and bar hoppers, but everyday people, predominately people pushing strollers or walking hand in hand with tiny, waddling children.

It's almost midnight and parent's are out taking their kids for a stroll.

I comment at this, more to myself because it is so unbelievable that someone would be out and about at this hour, the usual time that drunken stumbles and falls dominate the sidewalks. A friend happens to overhear me, I'm a bit buzzed on watered down beer so I can barely remember who it was, or even if she was in our group of friends.

"It's too hot in the day to go out," she said, splashing her drink a bit on me but I'm as bad so I don't notice. "When the sun goes down, that's when people come out to play."

And she's right. The sun in Singapore is glaring, usually in a cloudless sky that is only marred by the blitzing fast thunder storms. When walking down the street you last only minutes before the heat or the humidity has you in its talons and your sweating buckets. Its normal to see people detouring the long way around a park, just to stay in the shade, as if they are playing a game of 'Hot Lava' like we did when we were kids. If they are skirting around the edges of a tree's shadow, its normal to see people (mostly women but I've seen a few older men too) to carry an umbrella as a shield against the hot ball of roaring hydrogen in the sky.

The experience is somewhat surreal in itself, though that feeling could be from the combination of beer, whiskey and champagne... which at one point is being all consumed together in the same glass. The end result is a laughing stumble home and my great approval of my first night out clubbing in Singapore.

Update: I've established that my boyfriend's father is an evil genius in the morning, after he started playing country yodeling at stereo-surround sound levels... to the great horror of my hang-over stricken brain.

Quasimodo Has Escaped the Bell Tower!

It has happened! I have escaped the bounds of this Tampines apartment and managed a daring escape through the streets of Singapore, down into glowing boardwalks that ring the shores of VivoCity,  looking out onto the gleaming beaches of Sentosa, for a night out on the town... Fine, it was dinner with friends in a hotpot restaurant at VivoCity but still, I got to take the Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) for the first time!

First thing to note about the MRT, every station has been strategically placed inside, beside, atop or underneath a mall or shopping center of sorts. So when leaving or coming, you have to brave the crowds of both shoppers, transients and everyday populous going about their day. At first it can be worrying trying to get up onto the platform for the East-West Line at Tampines Station, getting lost in the torrent of bodies as they surge in every direction, trying not to worry that every backpack, shoulder or elbow is going to smack you as it passes.

Yet the system has been designed to be as seamless as possible, so that riders can get through as fast as possible with as little Human supervision needed. The turnstilles are automated, only needing a 'credit-card' like pass to be passed over the reader, you don't even have to take them out of your wallet as you pass through. These cards are so much more economical and efficent than the paper/cardboard MTA cards like in New York, even transit tokens like in Philadelphia .. seriously SEPTA you're the last in the United States to still use that dated system and all your stations smell like pee so we know you're not using the taxpayer dollars for janitors.

Eventually however we get up atop the platform and the first thing you see coming up the escalator is the giant fans. These massive propellers are what provides air-conditioning to the otherwise open air station, swinging with four great blades that each have to be 10-feet long. Just standing under one in the hot and humid air, gives you a nice chill that otherwise would leave you sweating to dehydration.

Overall the stations appear clean, save for the little dirt or grim that daily foot-traffic inevitably creates. Singapore has incredibly strict litter laws, even new laws passed on smoking in non-smoking zones are intense. Between S$500 to S$1000 if you're caught on either!

Yeah, a lot of people have commented when I say that one, that it's so draconian and unfair to charge so much for simply littering or happening to smoke too close to a building. But you have to remember Singapore is an island, independent and significantly smaller than its much more massive neighbors. It is just a bit smaller than New York City, that's Singapore's 710 km² against NYC's 1,213 km² (that's with Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, Bronx and Staten Island). Also you have to remember that New York, with its 8.3-million people, has the entire United States to support it... Singapore's 5.3-million just has itself.

They are strict with their laws because the nation can't afford to waste important and finite resources on otherwise trivial things like people being too lazy to pick up after themselves. Take one stroll down a street or through a park in Singapore and you very rarely find trash lying about... walk three-feet in NYC and I guarantee you'll trip over ten empty plastic bottles, an overturned trash can and at least one piece of furniture... walk into a Manhattan subway station outside the tourist areas (like Harlem or East Village) and be ready for your nostrils to be assaulted by the smell of urine, gasoline and milk so bad its a day or so away from being good cheese. And to point out, such laws are rarely broken because after so long with it, most Singaporeans have a very clear image that you'd have to be outright stupid to do something like litter when trash bins line almost every avenue and street.

Oh and for you smokers out there, the weather is 80F and sunny all year round, so you literally won't be left out in the cold!

Back onto topic and into the MRT station, the next thing that will catch your attention is the gates that line the platform, a chin-high glass barrier of sorts that separate the waiting commuters from the incoming trains. Now in NYC, all the MTA gives you is a painted yellow line down the ledge of the platform, with a warning if you cross this barely-there line you're pretty much playing with fire when the train rolls into the station. To say it is cheap negligence is an understatement when you see these high-tech glass barriers and automated gates that open and close, to allow the commuters to board the trains in what many would consider a minor 'suburban' station. You quickly realized how criminally cheap the MTA is, how many people each year are killed, victims of accidents, fate or stupidity when they are struck by oncoming trains in the subway... how much an investment  now could protect the most predictable problem trains have faced since the beginning of their invention...  Human bodies do not fare well against a 25-mph train... they are obliterated when you add in how fast the express trains run.

No New Yorker wants to remember the horrifying picture of Ki-Suk Han mere seconds before the Q-train killed him, all because a drunken argument that ended with a homeless man by the name of Naeem Davis shoving Han off the platform and into the path of the incoming subway train. Or barely a month or so later when a mentally disturbed Erika Menedez shoved Indian-immigrant and long time New York resident Sunando Sen onto the tracks of the oncoming Queens #7 train, all because "he looked Muslim".

But I digress on another tangent, one that would flare in the face of any MTA-riding New Yorker when they stand on the platform at any MRT station. As the train rolls in and the glass doors that separate the commuters and their vehicle slide back silently, the rush of people again seems to overpower us. It is a miracle we find seats though honestly inside this giant machine its surprisingly easy. MRT trains are like the 'caterpillar' design, meaning that other than metal hings that move and mold as the cars coast around corners, the interior is just on long, cavernous hall with seats lining the sides, hanging straps for those standing and the occasional metal pillar for groups to cluster around. I have quickly vowed that if I can, I would love to one day sit at the front or back of one of these endless cars and watch as the white, blue halls before me warp and twist like some haunted fun-house. However given the high usage rates since owning a car in Singapore is very difficult, this is going to probably only happen if I get on at the end of the line AND at the very least, at 5:00 AM in the morning... yes, there is a 5:00 AM now!

We arrive in VivoCity (a slight detour to meet with a friend in Tanjong Pagar) and again we find ourselves climbing the endless escalators upward. Seriously, up three stories into the ground level, with another two stories of mall over us (seeing a theme here with Singapore transit), it creates a endless rising feeling, as if you are about to step off and right into the clouds.

VivoCity is probably one of the largest malls in Singapore and before you think of it, other than the food court, you could actually convince yourself you're standing in any mall back in America. The stores are almost identical, from GAP to Forever 21 and the prices are none too different from home. The way I understand it a lot of foreign travelers love to stop in cities like New York for the clothes shopping but seriously, I could not find any notable difference between the stores in Singapore and the ones back home like Oxford Valley or Neshaminy Mall.

Though some of their confectionary imports would be... odd... to some westerners. Exhibit B... see attached picture to your left.

I mean other than the high prevalence of Asia dining establishments and some weird choices of window display, again see Exhibit B, an American let lose in this mall without knowing he's in Singapore probably wouldn't register anything... yeah, I know, I nearly didn't register it!

Well more for next time, Ang Moh out!

Homesickness & Pizza Hut Pasta Hurts!

Day two has arrived and this one came in with a crashing boom, a flash of light and me nearly falling out of bed thinking the North Koreans had finally grown a pair and done attacked. Nope, its just the early morning thunder storm, arrived just on time to scare the crap out of my jet lagged brain.

That's the norm here for this week, rain so heavy you swear Noah's Ark is going to be floating down the street any second... then snap, not a cloud in the sky and the sun so hot you swear birds in flight will burst into flames... leaving delicious roasted meat to fall from the sky! Thankfully the rain seems to drive the humidity into submission for a few hours... before it returns with a vengeance I doubt few could conceive! I have established that I can no longer wear any dark colors or heavy fabrics because its ability to suck in every ounce of heat in the room... which is cause for concern considering my wardrobe tends towards Earth-tones... well its not totally black! I do have a few blue and green shirts so we can call it Earth-tones instead of Gothic!

Whatever fashionista! Onto the news from the Ang Moh!

Well yesterday I finally got my SIM card to start making some local calls. I'm not going to hand it out here, learned my lesson after I left it in a truck stop bathroom once... it was a JOKE! How was I suppose to know that old joke was 100% true! Beside Jim Joe sounded very nice on the phone...

Anyways, in Singapore there are three major phone companies, the biggest apparently is SingTel, next and almost as common is StarHub and finally little M1 bringing up the rear.

I ended up going with M1 because it was the cheapest one with the best data plan, SingTel was a bit too expensive when I tallied up all the charges. Altogether it came out to be S$45 or $36 in America. Now for those foreigners that don't know, you need to bring two things to the store when you are buying a prepaid phone card:

• Passport (all cards have to be registered with the government with federal level ID)
• Unlocked Phone (You have to get your current service provider to unlock it before you leave, not after!)

Now to unlock you phone its just the matter of calling your phone company before you leave the country. Most of the new smartphones unlock instantly when their contracts go over a year but if you are sporting that brand new phone and going abroad like I was, a simple call to your phone company can get them to unlock it. Just say you are traveling abroad and if that company doesn't have a branch or affiliate in the country of your destination, they almost always sigh in annoyance, quibble for a few sentences, then unlock your phone. Some even (Verizon and AT&T do) will explain how to go about getting a new card for your benefit and give you some tips and suggested Apps to use when calling abroad.

Once you have the card... and in my case get a free umbrella for spending over S$30, its the simple matter of popping out the new SIM card (they come attached in little plastic cards) and inserting it into your old phone. I don't know about most other phones but for the iPhone 5, just look on the right side and you'll see a little pin hole at the midpoint. Just press a needle or a paperclip in and a little draw will drop out and you can then insert your new SIM card. KEEP THE OLD ONE! If you ever go back home getting a new one will just be a waste of money!

Now I have a working phone and a new umbrella... and not one of those cheap compact ones that you can get at the drug store and then lose in your car. This is the old style kind, the ones that can double as a cane for walking... or a cane for hitting! Now I know most people just roll their eyes at these relics, when the smaller pop up kind can be tossed in a backpack or back seat and forgotten about until your caught in a storm and its 50-miles away but in Singapore, after the first rain storm started, you realize how necessary these massive radar dishes can be.

Rain in Singapore doesn't come down in a light dustings, in more clouds of heavy mist than rain. It comes down in boulders, more like being hit by a wave of water then a fleet of droplets. Those little pop up umbrellas may be economical to buy and efficient when you store them in a purse or backpack but against this weather, mother nature shall laugh maniacally as this polyester shield collapses under her harsh hand.

But their necessity doesn't stop there. Most people I've seen here continue to use them throughout the day, to shield themselves from the powerful sun that glares down all day. It's common to see mothers walking strollers with one hand steering and another holding up a massive umbrella, in an attempt to shield both herself and her young ward from any UV contact.

Thankfully I have yet to experience the Singaporean mosquito population, which from what I hear is a plague on everyone... but for which most Singaporeans seem immune to! Oh that doesn't mean I haven't gotten a few stares of confusion when I've gone outside, as if I were covered in tiny red bites. I guess here when compared to New York or Philadelphia, I am a very obvious minority. I mean I'm Caucasian but on top of that I have traditional Irish skin... meaning that I'm the white people of the white people. We don't tan, we just turn into tomatoes with freckles!

I'll chalk that up to the fact that when I left the United States, winter was just starting the long and agonizing break into spring, so my skin is so white right now I'm verging on albino. Maybe its best to ignore the stares, possibly that small Malay lady who nearly walked into a wall while staring at me in the mall was just distracted by the glare of my porcelain skin... like staring into the sun for too long!

Get your giggles out of that because now I have a confession to make... I had some western food yesterday.

Worse yet, I had pizza!

I know, shame on me, but my excuse was that I was looking for something cold to eat. Do you realize in this country how hard it is to find something to eat that's not already steaming hot? I mean its a tropical country on the equator, you'd think there would be a lunch dish that didn't automatically come with steam pouring from it. Hey, ice cream doesn't count! I guess after searching and failing for two hours I was starting to feel the pangs of homesickness, for something... anything that I could eat that didn't require me to blow on.

And that excuse loses all its weight when I end up walking into the Pizza Hut at Tampines Mall. Fine, hiss at me, call me out but at that point I just wanted to eat some food I knew against trying to figure out how to pronounce the names on the menu at the 34 ramen shops down stairs.

I guess my excuse for when this happens is that I also was curious to see what western food in other countries tasted like.

Now everyone who has been to a Pizza Hut in America knows them for their greasy foods, in poor attempts to mass produce the basic Italian meals. I mean if it wasn't for their thick, crispy crusts (my personal favorite), they'd have been an epic failure decades ago. But here in Singapore, Pizza Hut wasn't some take out place with a few tables, the whole place smelling like grease and plastic. Instead it was like a real restaurant  with three different menus (appetizers, specials and the mains), with waitresses dressed in fine vests to seat you and a full bar to grab a cocktail with your greasy pizza. The only difference I guess at dining here was the waitresses don't take your order per say, instead you fill out a check-off card with what you want and at what quantities and then pass it off to the waitress who then will return with your dishes. I got a nice personal pepperoni pizza, garlic bread and a orange mirinda (orange soda) while my boyfriend went with the shrimp pasta, salad and root beer.

The pizza tasted a lot like at home, a lot less cheese but all the same. The pasta however was the surprise, it came with the Aglio Olio sauce, bits of basil and even shrimp... along with hot peppers all over the place. I guess in Singapore, if you can't psychically make it hotter, then you should make it taste hotter. My boyfriend nearly couldn't finish and chugged his entire root beer almost half way through. A single fork for me of the spiraled noodles and I nearly choked it was so spicy!

That's another hallmark of Singapore food I've noted. If a food doesn't look hot (i.e. red and steaming) that means it's going to be far, far more worse for your soon to be burn victim of a tongue!

The day ended somewhat early, after getting my phone setup, lunch and a key to get into the apartment we are sharing with the boyfriend's parents, jet lag took its toll and by 6:00 PM (6:00 AM back home) I was passed out in the bed at home and snoring as loud as the storm that would eventually wake me up in 8-hours... which by the way has now died down enough that the sun has begun to shine through the overcast sky.

Plans today are nothing other than some job hunting but I'll keep you posted!

Sparks fly on the First Day... Seriously They Did!

So its my first official day in Singapore and what trouble have I gotten into in this new land you may ask?

First things first, all those warnings about the humidity were lies... bold face lies I tell you... cause the reality is far... far... far worse than you could image.

Within 20-minutes of arriving at our new home in Tampines, 10-minutes drive from Changi Airport, I had sweated through my t-shirt, jeans and everything underneath. I looked as if I had been out in the morning storm and it wasn't that comfortable kind of wetness that you get after jumping into a pool with all your clothes on. Its that sticky kind of feeling, where your clothes feel like the weigh a ton and are clinging to you like chain-mail.

A quick remedy to this, take the coldest shower of your life and that causes all your sweaty pores to close right up. By the time you've dried and gotten into a nice t-shirt and shorts, the unbearable heat actually feels as if it drops to a more acceptable range. I would definitely recommend avoiding heavy fabrics like knits, denim or wool, they are fashionable death traps! If you are not going to be inside and air conditioned, completely abandon socks unless totally necessary! Believe me, your nose will thank you at the end of the first hour in Singapore!

Next up after unpacking all our clothes was setting up some of our electronics. Now this is the one thing I should mention with EXTREME WARMING! Never plug a surge protector from North America into an outlet in Asia. Even with a voltage converter it will not work! A surge protector is literally designed to dissipate sudden spikes of electricity and it completely bypasses the converter.

The end result is your boyfriend suddenly jumping back from a sparking surge protector, a whine of an electronic origin and then smoke rising from the eight power outlets on the surge protectors face... and then you have one very dead surge protector that will never work again! Just go buy a local one and a few more converters, it will save you from having to toss out a melted piece of smoking plastic.

About two-hours after arriving and one 'almost' fire it was off to the stores for a new SIM phone card, a key to be made and grocery shopping. Driving on the other-side of the road wasn't too much of a surprise, I've been in Europe before and even driven a bit so its not that odd to me. But in Singapore, the traffic is so much faster and more congested that your mind that has been trained to drive on the right side of the street keeps screaming every car is going to collide with you head on! It was like ducking in and out in a crowd and I quickly declared mentally to myself I would never... and I mean NEVER drive in this country.

However watching the motor bikes and scooters snake in and out of the traffic congestion was fun, they were like fish in those Shark Week documentaries, darting around those much bigger bodies without fear of being crushed and seeming to know where every short cut existed on these ever changing streets.

I quickly announced that the moment I had a job and enough money to afford an apartment, I would love to drive one of those bikes. My boyfriend was quick to point out the last time I had just a regular street bike in Philadelphia during college I had been hit by cars no less than three times in a year, with a motor bike he felt as if I was just going to double that number. I was quick to point out that only one of those impacts was with a moving car, the other two had been a parked car and a pedestrian... but that didn't help my case one bit and I conceded... for now.

Back to the shops, malls here are not like the one's back home, where going from one to another to shop means driving in the car for a few miles. In Singapore, its walking across the street! The only distinction between one to another is the fact they lay only a few hundred feet apart, the stores in each are different enough you won't even notice the transition.

We had lunch in a food court like place called East Link. This was no hawker center that I have heard all about, more like something you'd find back home with row table seating. The only difference was that they served only Asian food and my stomach was desperately hankering for a hoagie... for you none East Coast natives that a cold, lunch meat sandwich.

I do not recommend eating duck in front of people, yes the salted and roasted meat is among the most delicious thing I have ever had the chance to sink my teeth into but the bones... that is my one complaint about duck, the bones are browned to the point its almost unnoticeable from the meat and biting into it means chewing about to get rid of them. Don't even think of ordering this dish if you want to present yourself as an articulate and savvy Human being because eating this dish is going to make you look like a dog with a chew toy, all teeth, gnawing and gross, pained faces. Best tip, use a fork to hold down your slice of juicy meat and spoon to tear the bone free. Oh and there are no dinner knives! Cooking knives yes for slicing and dicing, meal-time knives are a nope as far as I saw in this place.

I adore a nice roasted duck with some white rice below it... but never will I again eat it in public!

Once we were done our meal it was back into the crowds of the mall. Now if the streets of Singapore are congested and crowded, the crowds in the malls were worse. But instead here the people were like the motor bikes, the fish darting in and out between the sharks, minus the sharks. In three hours walking about I only bumped into two people, emphasis on bumped, no epic impacts, no landing on my butt, nothing. I even apologized for the hits, they were my fault after all because I kept trying to read every sign but not a person paid it any attention. In NYC, you'd be cursed at, called an idiot, something unsavory about your mother would be uttered and then with a flip of the middle finger before the stranger would disappear down the street. In Singapore, it didn't even register as worth a glance back.

I attempted to buy a SIM card, in order to get a number in Singapore to use in my job hunting. SingTel is the one I'd recommend, they are the most numerous I've seen so far (I've only been around the airport and the east side of Singapore so take my words with a grain of salt) but you can top off your phone card at any drug store like 7-Eleven... Yes, they have those here too! Overall you can get around a card for S$30 (Singaporean Dollars) and every minute costs around S$0.16. Number one thing to bring is your passport. All disposable phones, data plans and/or calling cards have to be registered with the government and a United States drivers license is not enough. Took 30-minutes of hashing out the best phone plan for me only to find out I couldn't even buy it. Well now we have an new errand to run tomorrow!

The last activity of the day was some grocery shopping. Now other than a few things, the grocery store in Singapore is mostly the same as it is at home. Produce section, deli counter, heck most of the items save a few Asian additions is almost the same. There are even a lot of Western brands among the items, I even got a nice slab of Virginia Peppered Ham for lunch sandwiches tomorrow! Of course the one aspect to take quick note of it that some of the prices really swing from the high to low points. A lot of the meats in the deli section seemed very cheap compared to at home... but the confectionary treats... like Ben & Jerry's ice cream... was outright highway robbery!

S$23.00 for one pint... a PINT of ice cream. Don't believe me, here's a picture to back up my outlandish claims!

And now for what you've all been waiting for, I have met the boyfriend's Singaporean parents and they seemed to have welcomed me. I know the concept of two men being in a relationship in this country is probably new verging on alien. Singapore is just around where the USA was in the 1980s and 1990s when people were just starting to come to the conclusion that homosexuality wasn't truly a mental condition or a life choice but something your born with. Now Singapore is a bit of a conservative society and has a long way to go but they have embraced the world of modern media and information with a zeal that would make some people's head spin and they know for a fact the LGBT community exists. I honestly do expect they will go through the evolution of LGBT rights a lot fast than most of Asia, almost certainly at a rate that will make the United States feel some degree of shame over how it's dragged it feet on the issue. Change and evolution is coming and Singapore definitely is a place where it seems to be the fabric of the very society itself.

I will admit I was anticipating some reservation on the parent's part, maybe not outright confrontation or fighting but more of uncertainty at entering into a new situation you have no previous experience with. After all our level of interaction over the last three-years has been limited to a few sporadic Skype video sessions and one totally unplanned encounter in Macy's two-years ago (don't ask, just know irony and confusion were the themes of that meeting).

Perhaps I'll save our interactions for a later post, I want to spend some time getting to know them, to integrate into the family as much as I can before I allow any opinions to formulate.

Well jet lag is setting in and it is probably best I pass out soon, I'm going 38-hours no sleep and must be presentable to the family.

Good night and best wishes from the Ang Moh newly arrived in the Far East!

Singapore Arrival

I've landed at Changi Airport! Its 6:50 AM (Singapore Local Time) and I'm just off the plane, trying to work that pain of my neck from those... comfortable airplane seats. I can never sleep on planes, I'm one of those who was genetically locked to only sleep in beds. Expect the real posts to start once I leave the terminal and walk into the wall of humidity everyone has warned me about.

The flight was uneventful save for the landing. My arrival in Singapore was just as I expected, with screaming, rolling and near death... okay, I'm going overboard but allow me to paint the canvas for you.

The first real thing I saw when we entered Singapore airspace was the lightning storm. At first, looking out through the window I could see the white hot crackles of light burning out like veins in the Human body. They illuminated these great white, snow covered islands... until I realized there was no water around those islands... or below them... just a shear drop of black nothing. They were clouds, flashing into existence all seven-seconds before they plunge back into that deep blackness you get only just minutes before the sun begins to crest the horizon.

Yep, that's correct, we were landing in a storm with lightning crackling around us. I didn't even see a hint of Singapore from above until less than a minute before we landed, the clouds white washing us so that we couldn't see anything until the tarmac was almost inches below out massive A380 plane (Imagine a 747 but that second floor goes all the way back.)

So my first few seconds on this island began with a near terrifying drop down towards the ground on a machine moving 500 MPHSs!

Excuse me, I have to go change my pants...

In the interim as I trade my undergarments, I am trying to find the London Outbound Singapore Airline flight that carries my boyfriend. Thankfully they have a stewardess armed with an iPad with all that information, so I do believe I may have found the right location to catch him at. Hopefully I won't have to stand atop some high point in the middle of Changi Airport and have to scream his name until security wrestles me to the ground.

Off again!

I've Landed... in Deutschland

So this post is delayed, more or less because I don't have data enabled on any of my mobile devices while traveling abroad and can't find a decent Wifi hotspot because I'm too damn cheap to pay $4 for only an hour.

I have landed... in Frankfurt!

Yep, there are no direct, non-stop flights to Singapore, well there are but again, too damn cheap to take them. So that means a stop-over in Germany for two-hours while they clean/fumigate the plane before letting us re-board and continue on.

Right now I've been in flight for around ten-hours and boy are my arms tired... no seriously, I somehow managed to prop myself in the corner of my seat at just the perfect angle to make everything in my body twist and contort like a yoga instructor. I feel like I have the bones of a 70-year old, and considering my grandmother just hit 75 and still swims daily I should probably now shut up.

Thoughts so far, I am happily impressed with Singapore Airlines. How do I describe it to those who have never flown abroad one of her planes before, imagine you are in a fancy hotel lobby, the kind you see in a Mad Men-esque episode, where you feel you have to dress in a suit and carry a drink to look far more proper and poised when you know your lying through your teeth. Now put that Mad Men hotel lobby on a plane and that's what you feel like on Singapore Airlines. By far one of the nicest flights I've been on, considering I'm just an economy-class passenger... for the third time, I'm cheap!

Everything they have is adjustable to your needs, like when that person sitting in front of you inevitably leans their seat back, the television screen can tilt up, the tray table doesn't end up in your chest and the headrest can mold to any odd angle you try to work your neck in. All the stewards and stewardesses talk in whispers, not too quiet to hear but as if they don't want to startle you as they ghost about the cabin in their silent slippers. Even the glare of the overhead lights in an otherwise darken night cabin somehow seemed subdued.

That's I guess that the theme is in this hotel lobby-like plane, everything is subdued and just seems to glide along like a perfectly choreographed production.

I was fortunate to get a seat by the window, don't ask how I used my ninja skills because I honestly just picked a row the day before take off that had the least number of people in it. The odds were in my favor because from my window, the center seat in our row was empty and the row seat was held by a small man who was easy to dive over when I inevitably had to use the bathroom 11-times during the voyage... Hey! I drink like a fish and pee like a race horse... Wow, that sounds terrible.

So right now its waiting out the final 45-minutes left until the second round take off of my plane. I don't know how my boyfriend is doing, due in part because he booked his ticket much earlier than me and instead of taking Singapore Airlines the whole way, he instead is taking the Virgin Air route to London, then transferring to a Singapore Airlines flight back home. Ironically he left two-hours before me but will be arriving an hour after me, the perks of being on the same plane the whole time means your lay-over time is far, far shorter.

Well time to see how deep I can get into my next book while I wait for them to mop out the carnage of my last flight. Keep you update, landing will be at 6:50 AM Singapore Time, which will be 6:50 PM East Coast Time.

American Departure

At 8:50 PM, the Ang Moh vaulted through JFK airport security, only being stopped by the TSA three times (new personal best!) and boarded his plane for Singapore Airlines.

He wishes everyone reading a heartfelt goodbye and well wishes! 21-hours until D-Day... or S-Day... you know what I mean... just go with it!

Out With the Old, Into Changi Airport

My plane leaves in little more than five-hours, my bags are expertly packed/crammed and I'm riding down I-95, facing a terrible dilemma... can I still get a slice of pizza at JFK?

Fine, that is the worst thing to think before starting the first real leg of the adventure but after everything I've had to do the last few weeks, it just seems so appropriate. I mean it's the final completion after packing up an entire apartment, then hauling it down four-flights of steps, 80-miles south to the parents' to then again select only a tiny faction of all those items to then take on another excursion 9585-miles over the ocean, packing it into two check-in bags, one for the overhead, another under the seat and heck packing a final one to bash my head in with.

To sit here now, in an SUV flying down the asphalt with my dad driving and my boyfriend in the back reading something 'important' on his iPhone, I'm more concerned about a tiny distraction like food instead of surviving a 21-hour flight. I try to put the idea of leaving my family and friends behind me, that this is the farthest I have ever lived away from them, having someone visit will involve an international flight that literally will be a day long.

So what can I impart to those also traveling abroad, about to get on that plane and not look back?

1. No matter how you word it or spin it, your parents are not going to be pleased that their child is moving to the other side of the planet. Just bite your tongue and take the tears, disapproval and even the accusations. They're inevitable and avoiding it is only going to make it worse. 
2. Never get all your vaccinations on the same day, it's going to hurt like hell if you do. 
3. Pay attention when deactivating your phone, you may accidentally turn your mother's phone off instead.
4. The service guys for your Internet are going to offer you anything to keep your business. I do love the thought of owning a unicorn but I think I made the right decision to say no. 
5. Even with three people sitting on it, if the bag won't shut on the first try then its not going to shut on the tenth try.
6. Check what paper you print your E-ticket on. That inappropriate cartoon your dad printed for his buddies could be on the other side. 
7. Shut the top of the photocopier when you make duplicates of your important papers, your black and white face in the background can be shocking to immigration officers. 
8. Planning a party with the intent of getting rid of the last of your food and alcohol is a guaranteed failure. People will inevitably bring more than they eat/drink and you'll be in a worse spot than before. 

And that's what I've come up with as my final wisdom before my plane takes off. 21-hours from now and I'll be landing in the bright sun of a new morning in Singapore.

Wish me luck! The real adventure begins... wow, that was cliché...

Update: My final meal was KFC, a Twister Wrap to be specific! Good... not amazing...

Load Up the Pack Mule

So it comes down to my oldest nemesis, the bully of my elementary school days that continued to haunt me all the way into college... MATH... Yes, math, even if calculators have broken down this thug, I am still forever taunted by its awful integers and its useless step-cousin... algebra...

That is what you have to contend with when packing for a move to another country because almost every airline has a weight allowance these days. Singapore Airlines has deemed two bags weighing 23 kg (50 pounds) that can be checked for economy passengers, because lets face it, you don't put a ceiling on something and every idiot is going to try and take a grand piano or a refrigerator bag on-board.

Now everyone figures that 40 kg (100 pounds) is more than enough to fit everything... until you realize you aren't coming back and everything you bring is going to be it for at least 6 months, a year, maybe longer. So then your packing is broken down into four categories:

• What can I take?
• What can I leave behind but can take in a future trip back?
• What's going to storage for good?
• What's getting tossed, sold or sent to charity?

Once you break down these categories you can see a lot of your clothes and most of your furniture is getting tossed, sold or carted off to the Red Cross. I have a lot of shirts, left over from two-years working in retail and getting an excellent discount, but I have a habit of selecting only a few to wear depending on the season. So the Red Cross made off with four very large bags of dress shirts, sweaters, even assorted sneakers, some with the tags still on them. 

Now if you're like me and on a tight budget while unemployed, saving as much cash while going abroad is a big thing!

You could sell them off at thrift shops or consignment stores, places like Plato's Closet can give you a decent dollar for them. Don't expect much out of them... you are not going to break the bank on your pile of unworn garments... you won't even hit the half way mark, but if you want some quick cash, got a lot of clothes and are a bit too broke to be so generous to the Red Cross, they are your best bet. 

But clothing isn't the only thing you're going to be bringing. You are most likely going to toss in some electronics, some keepsakes like books or jewelry, most probably a relative is going to present you with a gift that comes with the expectation you are going to use it in your new home. 

In my case it was my Xbox 360. Yeah girls, roll your eyes, but I'm a guy and until I find a job, I am going to need some type of home distraction to keep my mind sharp and my wallet securely on the dresser. Of course I intend to explore and sight see, but unless its the necessary food to keep myself alive, my bank account is on lock down. So that is figuring out how much space I have to leave open for a 7.5-pound Xbox console. 

Easiest way to get around on this is stick it into the bag you intend to leave in the overhead compartment. They don't care what those bags weigh (D says the airline actually do care but don't bother to check), as long as they fit into the overhead you could put bricks in it for all they care... don't put bricks in it! Don't be that ass that takes my comment seriously to prove me wrong! But back on topic, use this bag for heavy things, like books, electronics, expensive items (i.e. jewelry) and most importantly shoes, the number one offender in sending your bag over the weight allowance. These all should be find because no one ever uses anything from that bag during the flight and lets face it, that bag is much less likely to disappear, get lost or end up on a flight to Guam if its only a few feet above you on the plane... I had that happen... twice... seriously what the hell is in Guam that makes my bags go there!  

What about all those papers you have to keep, even when you're abroad like:

• Insurance
• Product Warranty Codes
• Service Numbers
• Marriage Records
• Heavy Books (it's illegal, don't sell them!)

While you're at it, make digital copies of all the papers you are bringing, in case something happens and you lose everything in a fire, flood or because of theft. My social security card, a copy of my passport and my medical records that have been saved to DropBox.com, locked with the most complicated password I have ever come up with. Use words with special characters if you really want it to hit home with security... just DON'T write it down anywhere!

That's all I really have on packing. If anyone has any other tips and tricks on moving abroad on a budget let me know!

One Travel Book Down, Thirty-Two Left to Go

My second to last night in Philadelphia and my last meal with the family without fuss, a nice dinner at the kitchen table with chicken shish kabob, sweet wedges of red, green peppers sandwiching each piece of meat between them. The first words out of my sister's mouth the moment the food is whittled down to a few of the more burnt bits of meat no one is going to touch is my sister saying "What language do they speak in Singapore? Singaporese?"

And for the ten-thousandth time I try to tell her Singapore speaks English, just like Canada, Australia, Ireland, New Zealand... only to get a stare from her that hints what I'm saying isn't getting through. So I offer her up one of my travel books, the first one that I really finished, the one my Singaporean boyfriend gave to me when he first wanted to introduce me to his home country after the decision to move abroad became official.

Her inquiry on my opinion on the book inspires this post... my first travel book on Singapore... out of the thirty or so that I've gotten.

Notes From an Even Smaller Island by Neil Humphreys. I found it to be an informative book, definitely hitting several topics of both history and cultural significance that I have yet to see in most other books.

What really hit home was the kiasu phenomena among the population. This odd Singapore phrase struck me so much for some reason, since its translation literally means "scared to fail." It resonates so much with the old American phrase "keeping up with the Joneses," a fact I find more ironic since that is my surname. People in Singapore are so worried that they could lose at something, be second place or end up with any less than perfect, they are willing to do anything, even if its entirely illogical and possibly outright insane in attempting to achieve even 'perceived' success. Its continued appearance as a theme throughout the book really helped to color the culture of the country and even prepare me when I could deal with a similar situation. Read more here.

Humphrey's humor really helps to move the book along and his details on the Aunties/Uncles, the Singaporan tendency to value security over the lime light or the exception to eat all your food or appear rude are tiny tidbits that I feel all the better for know... and secretly concerned about.

Now on the con side, this book would definitely been tossed into my "To Be Sold at Bargain Store" after the first chapter or so because I did not find Humphreys' writing style all that appealing. He was informative but the tone set throughout the whole book was largely of complaining, of humorous events of culture shock and misadventures that can keep you interested for a bit. Yet fifteen chapters worth and I could hear myself muttering at the end "Shut up! Just shut up already!" in a bitter tone of annoyance that I hadn't found myself saying to a book since the time my high school made us read Catcher in the Rye... damn I still want to punch that whiny Holden Caulfield in the fact!

I'd recommend it to anyone (sister's included) but with a healthy warning of what to expect. Off onto his three sequel books, Scribbles from the Same Island, Final Notes from a Great Island and Return to a Sexy Island. Wish me luck at not punching someone... damn... too late...

Don't Worry, It Will Only Hurt A Lot!

My shoulders are sore, my mouth taste like sand, eye's dilated to the size of dinner plates and my level of humiliation is through the roof. No, I haven't just gotten back from spring break in Florida, I've been to the doctors... and the dentist... the eye doctor... and because of my infinite brilliance of scheduling, all in the same day!

I'm about to travel abroad so of course I want to use every bit of my insurances (fine, my parent's insurance) to make sure I am in tip top shape... and after my little experience I think I should share the correct things to do when traveling abroad for an extended period of time to sidestep most of the stupid mistakes I made... there weren't too many... alright, they were big mistakes but there weren't a lot of them so they even out... shut it and just keep reading!

First and foremost, go right to the travel medicine clinic. I know, it seems like the last thing you want to do but in order to avoid the confusion, the fusing, the annoyed nurses staring at you at the doctor's office, it should be first on your list and moment your ready to go. These people deal with travelers every single day and know from the get-go that 99% of them have no idea what to do. They have little pamphlets on everything you can want and from those times I worked at a check-in desk in high school, I guarantee they've read them all at least seven times each!

Make sure to bring a record of your vaccinations along with a list of all your allergies, aliments and oddities (stop judging me, I didn't have that many!)

Second tip, vacationing abroad and living abroad are two different things. You have to tell them that because living abroad for years against two weeks means those shots your gonna get become a lot bigger and a lot more numerous. Now don't worry, its not too much. First thing they ask you when you call for an appointment is where your headed and be specific with countries! Saying you may travel around south-east Asia to a travel clinic doctor is like saying "Oh, I'm going to roll in raw sewage in ever country I go to!" Don't lie, don't say its a possibility or you think maybe. You think your going to Thailand  Malaysia  Japan, China... the works... you think you could be there any time for any reason in the next three years, you tell them. Because of that my simple shot for Hepatitis-A grew to include a shot for Typhoid Fever, another shot for Yellow Fever, another for Tetanus and to top it off, four test tubes of blood drawn to make sure you have the appropriate antibodies from childhood vaccinations. Check the CDC website on travel's information for more details.

Now these places can be expensive and will cost around $250 and more (your gonna lose $80 just for coming in!)... but a quick call to your insurance company can lead you to the only hospital in 100-miles that will take your worn and bent plastic insurance card! A massive bill then becomes a $30 copay.

The reason you need to go to the travel clinic first is because when you leave they hand you a nice big folder of information on your destinations, along with prescriptions for a number of terrible things (seriously, Malaria and travel's diarrhea CAN KILL, you definitely don't want to locked up at a hospital with that!). Inside that folder is a folded yellow card, on which every one of your doctors has to sign-off on, detailing your immunizations, your medications, even what your eye sight is.

This little card is now your best friend to accompany that folder you've been building with your social security card and passport. You know the one you'll have to be prepared to whip out any time you travel farther than 50-feet from you home. As you head off to your other doctor's appointment, in my case a cleaning at the dentist (No cavities! Suck it floss, I never use you!) and a psychical (seriously an EKG-test is freaking cold!) they are going to sign this little paper, confirming that your are both sane, healthy and seriously medicated. Also because they are going to ask you what medications you are on, you can hand them over the nice list of very exotic and very expensive drugs the travel clinic put you on so their own cheapy, run of the mill crap drugs don't counteract it or make you ill!

Once your done, your all set to go... maybe leave a few days to recover since those damn Tetanus shots really do make the muscles ache!

Expatriate Guilt

Alright, so the biggest thing that I have noticed while trolling almost every website and book on American emigration and expatriation is the surprising lack of emotions on moving away and being separated from your hometown (save for the endless comments on missing a good burger or having cell phone reception everywhere). Most books allocate a brief section on how hard it can be and sometimes tears are shed but really, the vast majority seem to glaze over it, like the writers somehow have blocked it out with the feeling of adventure and excitement, mixed with some comical culture shock.

And the biggest aspect of moving abroad that I have noticed is completely absent, the term I have now come declaring copyright status on... Expatriate Guilt!

Fine, people move away from their parents all the time, across the country, to every state in their grand old country, where the idea of a car/train/ferry ride home to visit becomes one of those classic 80s road trip movies. But going the next level, leaving the country, becoming an expatriate, means that a trip home has to be a precisely planned affair of packing, lay-overs and immigration/customs lines where every border agent seems more pissed off than the one before.

Expatriate Guilt becomes even more apparent when you realize what you are leaving behind, more importantly... who.

Your parents, siblings, grandparents... hell that bitchy old spinster aunt you only ever see on certain mandatory religious holidays but try desperately to avoid ... are now in another country, no longer will visiting on weekends or certain one day holidays be a possibility. Your trips home become worse than living in another state, you'll have to coordinate like NASA mission control to get home for just a week or so. And next comes the triage, what time can you visit to see the most of your family and yet avoid being drowned in the torrential floods of Thanksgiving/Christmas or summer vacation travelers.

Now lets take that horrible feeling of separation (I'm sure we have a few readers who aren't totally emotionally dead inside!) and match it with that loving but concerning level of stubbornness and a hint of xenophobia our baby-boomer parents seem to just extrude from every pore. These parental units will most often declare, "We love you honey/baby/creature who claims its my child, but we have no interest in ever visiting you in that country we've never heard of but instantly know is one of those weird, backwards countries, probably with no running water."

Now I am not nay saying on parents all over the world. Most of our parents are now in there fifties and sixties, they are in that weird twilight before retirement but their energy is sapped from thirty-years of a career they may or may not have chosen to use in order to support us when we were little kiddies. Travel to a foreign, exotic country (hell, we can even lump Canada into that) where they may or may not speak the language, where the climate is totally opposite to the one at home and certainly none of the food appears appealing for consumption, is completely, totally, absolutely, a big fat... NO!

And that leaves us back where we began, Expatriate Guilt, the feeling that you can only visit your family on an extensively planned mission that is over so quick, you feel like you never left the airport check-in counter, sprinkled with the gut wrenching knowledge that your loving but resolute parents are not going to visit.

It is something anyone moving abroad will most likely face. Be prepared for homesickness on a level you have never dealt with since your parents dropped you off on the first day of kindergarten.

Maybe this feeling is a passing one, that only appears when one is on the way out and quickly is drowned out by a new culture, language, exploration, discovery and guzzling as much as the local liquor as possible. I think I will attach that to the reasoning behind such little attention being given to this wonderful combination of elation, sadness and being kicked in the nuts - Expatriate Guilt.

Packing Up Painful Perplexities

In the wee hours of the morning (fine, it was 11:00 AM but I'm not working so its fine to sleep late!) I finally and officially booked my plane ticket on Vayama. It was with astute research, a keen eye and a whole ton of blind luck I managed to find a fairly cheap flight on Singapore Airlines.

But now it's hit me, I've set my path in motion, by actually booking my travel there, my future in a foreign country as an expatriate becomes all the more real.

Worries and fear start to set in the instant the elation is passed.

First question that springs into my mind is "Is my mom going to get all weepy once I tell her everything is set to go?" No mother wants to see her child move more than a car ride away and the last time I nearly left the country a nuclear detonation had less fire and energy than her reaction. The worries of a dissatisfied parent plagues every child. I've been reading ExpatFocus.com, and their section on the guilt of leaving your family really hits home!

Second question becomes "How am I going to fit 25-years of my life into two suitcases?" Seriously, do you remember when we were kids and someone asked "If you were stranded on a desert island and could have only one thing, what would it be?" This is the situation you face when moving abroad, without the luxury of a moving truck, packing becomes a balancing act of the cost of shipping the item against the item's cost. Instantly I know my desktop computer I've spent so long tweaking and modifying to my approval can't come, along with that amazing flat-screen television we got for the living room. I'm actually calculating how much suitcase space I'll lose in order to find some room for my Xbox 360, Kinect and assorted games and still have space left for my all time favorite books (I have like 30 favorites and I can only have 5). You can read up on some shipping tips from US to Singapore here.

Third comes down to "What clothes do I bring, what do you leave?" I've lived in six different major cities in my life (Philadelphia, Raleigh, San Francisco, Pittsburgh, Detroit, New York City) and other than San Francisco, every one of them have been in temperate climates and under the swinging pendulum from snowy winter to hot sun of summer. You know how you have that one outfit you look damn good in without any real effort, that's me with a thermal sweater, jeans and some converse. None of those will do in a country that is 85-miles north of the equator, that's less than the distance from Philadelphia to New York City! Now I have to transition my wardrobe to a country where 80F is the norm regardless if its December or July. Seriously check out this week's forecast.

Now these are just my three biggest worries, tiny and trivial ones continue to crop in occasionally. An hour ago, going through kitchen appliances that we're being boxed for storage at my parents, I actually was upset for half a second that I'd have to leave behind my coffee maker. Yes, Singapore has coffee, even 70 Starbucks locations, but still it's those tiny things that spring into your mind at the oddest moments that really catch you off guard.

So in order to placate some of my worries I've decided to take a stab at the two travel books that my boyfriend has provided to me, Neil Humphrey's "Notes From an Even Smaller Island" and his sequel a decade later, "Return to a Sexy Island". I know I am fortunate to have a personal guide to hold my hand as I enter not only Singapore for the first time but Asia itself, but still, maybe reading about someone else who has been through a similar experience could give me some perspective.

International Incident in the Works

So like any grand idea, this one came about over copious amounts of alcohol when my two favorite Singaporeans tried to teach me some lessons on Singaporean culture. Long story short, I am a terrible student.

But one of the ideas that came out of this discussion over fruity drinks and beers was for me to write down my experiences in the far east. See I have a sarcastic humor and most people say I'm as lovable as a shovel to the face. The sole reason I'm moving is that the one person in the world who can make my sarcasm alleviate just enough to make me nearly, kind of, sort of, almost seem like a human being is...

...the Singaporean I'm head over heels, crazy in love with.

About a month ago we both found ourselves victims of the recession, out of work, living in an expensive Manhattan apartment, with few job prospects and bills raining down on us like dollar bills on a bachelor party stripper. Worse yet, one of us was facing the end of a work visa that was to expire. Now as an international couple we face a problem most couples do not, one of us was only in this country on the grace and goodwill of the federal government, only as long as they could convince an American company they were worth being hired over a native-born citizen.

After weeks on the prowl like a diabetic in a cupcake store and a dwindling deadline we came to the final decision that the welcoming arms of the Statue of Liberty were not enough to keep us in our home, around our friends, a close but respectable distance from my parents. It came down to the moment where one of us would have to leave the country or become an illegal alien, subject to arrest and an immediate deportation by the INS with those stereotypical unmoved, scowling guards you see in those crappy rom-com movies.

That is until we came to the conclusion that while New York City and the good ole U.S of A could not provide for us, the welcoming, skyscrapers of sunny Singapore possibly could. Singapore, a mecca for immigrants, where one in three people living on this island city-state are foreign-born.

The decision to make a move 9531-miles (15,339- kilometers, damn I have to learn the metric-system!) was a lot easier then you think, the man I love is there which means I'm just a hop, skip and a 23-hour plane ride away! But after the decision was made, the worries started to set in...

Will the Singaporean parents like me?

Will I be able to comprehend Singlish?

Can I survive in a country where it is 86F every day of the year, being so fair that I am nearly transparent? (Seriously I'm so white, put me in front of a lamp and you can see my brain!)

As of yet, I can't answer a single one of those questions.

But over the course of this blog we can figure that out together, the sheltered American white guy in a hot, tropical island country in Southeast Asia.

Here we go!