Thursday, June 08, 2006

i must be back in singapore.

I've been bumping into many fellow Singaporeans these days. Well, 'bumping' isn't quite accurate, the words 'bombarded' or 'besieged' or even 'assaulted' are the first that come to mind, but that seems a bit too exaggerated. Still, I reckon at least half of the Singaporean student population have decided to spend their summer holidays in London, and they're everywhere. Left, right, up, down, centre, upside down, right-side up - in Tesco, in Hyde Park, in the tubes, in Whiteleys shopping centre, and even in the toilet.

Don't get me wrong, it's great to see familiar strangers on the streets of London, and I smile a little smile everytime I see them standing around, looking a little lost and bewildered: "Eh, where is Topshop?" "Where is Lay-chair-ster Square ah?" You can hear them a mile away from the pronounced Singlish that they all converse in - with a smattering of Chinese and Hokkien and lahs and lohs and jialats. You'd be surprised at how distinctively nasal the Singaporean accent is.

Actually, you can even spot them ten miles away. For example, I was just minding my own business at Caffe Nero today, trying to get some reading done. And lo and behold, two Chinese girls sauntered in and plonked themselves at the table adjacent to mine. Firstly, they are identifiable as "Singaporean" by their figure - short (relatively), stick thin, snake-hipped, sharp elbows (weapon used to defend themselves against dodgy people in Zouk), flat-chested and of course, the pre-requisite tropical tan.

Secondly, their clothes are a dead giveaway - plain spaghetti-strapped top (looks like Giordano), check. Indecently short denim skirt (looks like Levis), check. Printed girly slippers (looks like authentic Birkenstocks, I'm surprised they're not from Charles and Keith), check. Little tote bag (looks like it's one of those from Far East Plaza/Heeren), check. Cutesy colourful phone-chain (also looks like it's from Far East Plaza/Heeren), check. Carrying a Starbucks ice frapp into another coffee chain (notorious Singaporean habit), check. Oh dear, I'm grossly stereotyping, but how stereotypical of them to prove me right.

And of course, the accent. They open their mouth and speak:

"Yah loh! I tell you already, seeing your "B-F" (boyfriend) all the time, is super the jialat one okay! But what to do! Haiyah!"

"A bit the sian ji pua, hor?" And it carries on in this vein for quite some time. Later on:

"Dunno why also, that ang-moh came to com-plee-ment me leh, and I was like, why he come and tell me I'm so pretty for what ah, he got nothing else better to do is it? But I'm quite happy also lah! Hee hee hee hee hee!"

Somehow, those once-endearing colloquialisms have now morphed into vengeful arrows and I feel the painful and arduous passage of each one through my void of my head. It's not as if I don't drop lahs and lohs at the end of my sentences, so I don't know why it bothered me. Maybe it's because I'm no longer accustomed to the sound of my native speech from another Singaporean, maybe it's because I have 97 days to write 45,000 words and I'm dreadfully stressed, but dear Lord - the sheer number of uttered 'lahs' and 'lohs' in the past 5 minutes!

I lost count after 20, and I figured I have better things to do than to keep track of their conversation. Such as arguing with the book that I'm currently reading, as to why Salzer's graphical analysis is wrong, and how appalled I am that the esteemed editors actually sanctioned it for print.

Anyway, it's actually quite funny when you take a step back and observe ourselves from another cultural point of view. I'm rather amused at our little idiosyncrasies, although I'm sure Dominic will beg to differ. =)

97 days left and no words written! I'm astounded by my own efficiency. Then again, I'm easily impressed. I suppose we all have our flaws.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

priceless!
i really shld be.
Maria for the day; jumble book sale.
incredulous; happy birthday!
It's very strange. When you're desperately deprive...
in the dark with Murphy for company.
helpless.
midori/morbid ducks.
climbing down.
impending arrival, stressed.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.