The Plunge Down Under

Is It My Turn Yet? (I'm Always Last)

My parents should know better by now than to take me to new places.  I was excited about going to Singapore before we left.  When we got there, I remembered that I hate new places.  All I really want to do is go all the way back in Pittsbird and spend all day with my dad.  This is why I was very mad and grumpy in Singapore

On Monday my dad had to go to work. I was so mad that I didn't look at any of the animals at the Singapore Zoo.  Instead, I walked very far behind Katie, Cameron and Sophie and begged to go home.  They pretended that I didn't belong to them. That didn't work.  Katie asked my mom to please do something about my terrible behavior, but my mom said that her only options were to ignore me or take all of us back to the hotel.  Katie decided to ignore me.

When we were riding the train back from the zoo, I told my mom I was going to get off by myself at the next station.  "What will you do then, all by yourself?" she asked.  I told her that I would find an airplane, get on it, and not get off until it landed in Pittsbird.  Then I crossed my arms.  I wanted to say, "So there."  But I didn't.

The food was awful.  Can you believe that they don't have ketchup at most of the restaurants?  I kept ordering french fries, but I only got to eat them three times.  At morning and at night I had to eat dry cereal in the hotel room because my mom and dad didn't figure out where to buy milk until the end of the trip. One time all they gave me was fried bread for lunch.

You won't see many pictures of me in Singapore.  I didn't feel like having my picture taken. A couple of times I forgot about being mad and smiled for the camera. Sophie helped me do that.

I'm smiling here because my mom wanted me in the picture with everyone else by the Singapore Zoo sign, but I decided to stand by the elephants.

Here I am at the pool.  I only wanted to swim, so I wouldn't look at the camera.

I really, really loved the pool very much.  I wanted to go swimming as soon as I woke up. But we always had to go places first.  The worst place was the fish market.  When I saw a picture of it on our computer at home, I told my mom, "Don't take me there again. That place stinks."

We had to ride on buses and trains for a long time every single day.  I talked a lot about my dad.  I kept telling my mom that I loved him forty times, no, forty-eight times.  Finally she asked me how much I loved her.  "Not so much," I said.  "Only about three or five times."  "Hmmm," she said. "That's about what I thought."  The next day I told her that I loved her forty-nine times.  That made her smile.

Sometimes my mom will ask me why I want so much to return to Pittsburgh.  I always say, "Because I want to play with my toys." She always says, "But we brought your favorite toys to Australia."  And then I have to say, "But I want to play with my toys IN PITTSBIRD."  I don't think I can be more clear than that.

I have some friends here.  Joel and I like to play with trains.  The big kids at church take turns carrying me around on their backs.  Katie tries to cheer me up by giving me lollies, and Sophie plays pretend games with me. Sometimes Cameron lets me go in his room while he builds me a ship from Legos.  Sometimes he closes the door before I can come in.  That makes me mad because I can't reach the door handle.  The best part of the day is when my dad comes home. 

I have been told that we are going on the long airplane ride home soon.  I don't know when it's going to happen because, as I tell my mom nearly every day, it's taking forever. 

p.s.  A note from my mom: I hope my dear friend Shanda doesn't mind that I have been playing copy-cat to her lovely post of a few days ago.

 

The Thanksgiving Blues

I have been telling myself all morning that we should be focusing on the myriad of things for which we have to be thankful.  And we have.  We have discussed our many blessings, and have given thanks to our Heavenly Father together and separately.  Truly He is good all of the time.  But the sadness over missing out on spending this favorite holiday with family insists on intruding, and today I decided it was okay to feel sad for a while. 

After wallowing in misery for some time, imagining the smells, the companionship around the fire, my mom and grandma in the kitchen . . . I could go on here but won't, I decided that some culinary therapy was in order. I pulled out the Pioneer Woman Cooks, and the kids and I mixed up her homemade cinnamon rolls.  So far we have consumed two dozen (with the help of some American/Australian friends), two dozen more await on the countertop, and I just mixed up enough dough for four more dozen.  Good thing we will have places to share them tonight and tomorrow.

Last night I reflected on how the simple discipline of teaching the children to pray and give thanks each night before they fall asleep has become such a part of their lives that they often mechanically say thank you for the very things that they spent a considerable amount of time complaining over earlier in the day. Will this translate into genuine gratitude as they continue to get older?  I'm not sure, but I figure it can't hurt.

Sensory Overload in the Tekka Market by Katie Wilkin

Before I boarded the plane I was greatly anticipating our trip to Singapore.

But when I came out of  the airport, and felt the humidity I began to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. When we finally got the hotel I was ready to go get some food. When we got up to our floor I was amazed how small everything looked.

This is the view from the 11th floor, the floor we were staying on. There are twenty-one floors in the hotel. So you can imagine how high up you would feel if you were at the top floor. After we got settled in we went walking to go get some food. We meant to ride the MRT (Mass Rapid Transit) to an outdoor food court. We only made it as far as the closest sushi restaurant before we crashed because of needing food. We found out later that we only had to make one more turn before we got to the MRT.

My worst memory of Singapore was going to the Tekka Market in Little India. The Tekka Market is called a wet market because they constantly wet down the stalls and floor.

When I first saw the Tekka Market I thought it didn't look too inviting, and the inside of it stank of dead fish and all the smells of the  different vegetables combined. I can't see how people can stand the smell.

When I walked by where the fish stands were, I thought how can they keep the fish and squid fresh in the dreadful heat.

 

 As I walked by fruits and vegetables I thought that the smell would be a whole lot better than the fish, but it ended up not being the best of smells either.

My favourite part of the Tekka Market was the clothing section. There were so many different dresses and colors it made my head spin.

 

I begged and begged mom to let me buy one, but she said we would come back later in the week to get what we wanted. Then it started to pour down rain, so mom let us get what we wanted.

It rained steadly for two hours and by that time everyone was ready to get out of the market.

When it was time to go home I was ready to go home, see my friends and get away from that horrible heat and humdity. I was really happy to get back on the plane and fly home.

p.s.  This blog was written entirely by Katie, who requested that her mom not change a single thing.

Singapore, by Cameron and Sophie

When I asked Cameron today to tell me about Singapore, he began talking, and I started typing.  Here are his recollections (with some very minor editing), followed by Sophie's:

Singapore by Cameron

We returned from a week in Singapore on Saturday.  Singapore was a lot of fun, but I was really hot.

I went on the biggest ferris wheel in the world.  It is called the Singapore Flyer.  It was designed to bring good luck to every one who rides it.  Good luck is important in the Chinese culture. We got tired of hearing about it.

 

 

Three fourths of the population in Singapore is Chinese.  The rest are Indian and Malaysian.  Once when I was at the subway station, I bumped into a Buddhist monk.  You don't do that every day. 

We stayed in a hotel called the Marina Mandarin.  It was a very big hotel with the best hot chocolate I have ever had.  It had a nice pool on the roof.  We went swimming every day.  On our last night we ate by the pool because we were too tired to go anywhere else.

We also went on the only Night Safari in the world.  It is next to the Singapore Zoo.  Animals were roaming around right in front of us.  We saw hyenas, rhinoceroses, the Malayan tiger, Indian wolves, water buffalo and hippopotamuses.  Hippos are very vicious and kill more people every year in Africa than lions.  They are territorial.  They kill humans not to eat them, but to save their property.  It would take about five lions to bring down one hippo. 

We also went to a water park called Wild Wild Wet.  There was a really fun ride that all of the family could go on, even James.  All of us could fit in the big tube.  James cried half of the way down every time, but he always wanted to ride again. 

At the temples in Chinatown and Little India we heard people chanting, and saw them offering fruit to idols that were on elaborately painted wooden chairs.  They looked almost life like.  The smell of incense made my stomach turn inside out. 

 

Singapore by Sophie

We had a lot of fun in Singapore.  The first thing that we did was go to Chinatown.  We saw Hindu and Buddhist temples there.  We saw people worshiping idols and chanting things.  I felt queasy.  We also went to a Chinese Methodist church where they gave us hot chocolate.  Then we walked to a really good restaurant.  In Little India, my mom bought me a dress at a market because it was raining.

The next day we went to the zoo.  The monkeys were not fenced in.  They were swinging everywhere in the zoo.  There were no fences anywhere.  We could ride in a tram, and also there was a really fun water park.  It felt so good to get wet. 

The next night we went on a Night Safari.  My brother says it was really cool, but I fell asleep.

We stayed in a really nice hotel, the Marina Mandarin.  They had a really good breakfast there.  I loved the pastries, pancakes and waffles. 

My favorite thing was going to a water park.  There was a wave pool and a lazy river and lots of other stuff, like a really fun slide. 

When we went back to Little India, we went to a disgusting ice cream place.  Everyone liked it but me.  I gave Katie my ice cream, and she gave me a Hershey's chocolate bar later.

One funny thing about Singapore are the toilets.  You walk through the door to get in, and you are still outside.

We went on a hippo bus and boat to see the city. I liked it, but the Singapore Flyer was an even better way to see the city.

Here we are waiting to board the hippo boat:

We saw the Merlion from the boat.  The name Singapore means "lion city" [from the Sanskrit words singa, lion and pura, city], because when someone landed here a long time ago, the first thing he saw was a lion.  I think there was also something about a fish, but I don't remember.

 Overall Singapore was lots of fun.  The trip home was nice because I could see the ocean and the red plains of Australia.  There were no rivers, so no one can live in the middle part.

What We've Been Eating

 A central aspect of the international travel experience is trying new foods.  We did our best to prepare for Singapore by reading about local specialties ahead of time to generate curiosity and enthusiasm (Asian cuisines have never been on my favorite list).  Overall we did pretty well---food in Singapore is relatively inexpensive, easily obtained, and well prepared.  Our only mediocre meal ("ordinary" in Aussie speak) was in a restaurant called New York New York.  After that experience early in the week, we avoided westernized establishments.   I will confess, however, to at least one supper of dry cereal eaten in our hotel room, a lunch that involved only fruit smoothies, and one visit to Subway.

Breakfast was a big hit every morning as our hotel had just about every imaginable food available in their buffet (as well as many things I could not imagine eating at that time of day).  Some of the more exotic fruits we enjoyed in the mornings included the dragon fruit, papaya, rambutan, longan and lychee. We consumed vast quantities of American style bacon, waffles and pancakes, and chose to avoid the sushi, curries, fried rice, and cooked vegetables.

The dragon fruit is pictured in the following two pictures.  It has a stunning presentation but we found it rather tasteless, something between celery and a not-very-sweet pear.  Fortunately Cameron had read up ahead of time on how to eat it---cut open and scoop out the interior as if it were a kiwi.

In spite of a hearty breakfast every morning, we all seemed to need to eat a big lunch as well.  We found out early on in our marriage that when traveling it is essential to eat and drink frequently to maintain good humor.  I don't understand why trying to follow a map burns so many calories (and threatens to cause so many arguments), but we found Singapore to be no different than anywhere else we have traveled in this regard.  Fortunately the local population loves to eat out, meaning that all one has to do is turn and walk ten steps in any direction to find a source of food or refreshment.  Frowns turn quickly to smiles after a cold drink and something for the stomach.

We encountered fruit stands everywhere.  The fruit can be purchased whole, turned into juices or smoothies, or alternatively, the vendor will cut the desired fruit into bite-size pieces and hand it over in a small plastic bag with a small stick for immediate consumption. 

One of the completely unexpected delights of Singapore was the coffee.  Called kopi, it is a deliciously dark, steamed brew poured from a pot with a long spout from high into the air down into a small cup where it is mixed with hot water and evaporated or sweetened condensed milk.   At S$1.00 a cup, it is a bargain, and the perfect accompaniment to kaya toast, my favorite discovery in Singapore by far. 

Kaya is a spread that does not look particularly appetizing, but is in fact a marvelous combination of sugar, eggs and coconut flavored with pandan.  It is lathered between two slices of toast with a large pat of butter.  From what I understand, it is very popular with Malaysians and Singaporeans, and together with a half boiled egg dipped in soy sauce, forms a typical breakfast set.  I would happily eat it anytime of the day, and this is easy to do as there are coffee and toast stands throughout the city.

 

We had intended to eat at hawker centers frequently during our week-long stay in Singapore, but this proved somewhat impractical given the location of our hotel.  Hawkers were originally single-person vendor/cooks who walked around with a couple of pots and charcoal burners preparing and selling food.  Today they are concentrated in collections of food stalls much like a North American food court.  We ate at one of the more well-known hawker centers, Lau Pa Sat, on our last day.  The food was delicious and cheap, although the lack of air conditioning was a bit of a trial for us as Friday seemed to be extra hot.  

The three older children ordered barbecued chicken from this Korean stall:

Ross decided to go for a local favorite, laksa, noodles in coconut broth with prawns and a boiled egg and other various unidentified items.  It proved to be fiery-hot.

Hainese chicken with fried tofu, a boiled egg, rice and broth (all for S$5.50!):

All we could find for James was fried bread.  He did learn to eat chicken this week without Heinz ketchup, but outside of that he lived mostly on fruit and dry cereal.

Sakae Sushi proved to be very popular with the children, so we ate there twice.  Choosing from the variety of colored plates on the circulating belt was great fun.

We ate one night at The Peach Blossom, a restaurant in our hotel.  Every bite was culinary heaven, but we didn't want to risk taking James there more than once.  Thankfully, he sat quietly the entire time and devoured the beans they provided as an appetizer.

Katie ordered lamb, and loved it.  Sophie didn't really care for the food, but she enjoyed dressing up.

Every time we walked to our closest MRT station, we passed a bakery with wonderful smells coming from it. The long queues prompted us to try a few of their offerings, a wonderful treat together with the kopi from the stand next door.

The last food adventure about which I will write is when Katie, Cameron and I sampled durian.  I thought they knew that durian is infamous for smelling like rotten garbage (in fact it is banned on the Singapore MRT), so I was surprised when they agreed to it.  Apparently that information had escaped them.  We tried it poured over shaved ice along with several other fruit syrups, a dish called ais (or ice) kacang.  All of us were reminded of sweet corn, for some reason, and found one bite to be more than plenty for our taste buds.

 

Notes From Singapore, Day 5

After spending two delightful days hopping on and off tour buses and boats, yesterday (Thursday) we headed back  to the Mass Rapid Transit to transport ourselves around Singapore.   First stop was Jurong Bird Park, one of the largest aviaries in the world.  To get there we traveled nearly as far west as the MRT goes, to the Boon Lay Station.  From there we walked to the bus interchange, where we were able to hop right onto Bus 194

Anticipating lots of time spent on buses and trains, all brought reading material but James.  He had to content himself with typing letters and numbers on my Kindle while I tried to read my latest purchase (Hold on to Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More than Peers by Gordon Neufeld).

We mustered up enough energy to walk through the night time owl display at the entrance, which was mercifully dark and cool, and then all agreed that seeing the rest of the aviary from the park's air conditioned monorail was a brilliant idea.  After visiting the zoo and the night safari earlier in the week, we had all had our fill of the animal kingdom (with the possible exception of Cameron, who was in no hurry to walk any farther in the heat than absolutely necessary).

After the fifteen minute monorail ride, we settled in for an entertaining bird show in a shaded pavilion, followed by a western lunch of fish and chips at Bongo Burgers.  Then it was back to bus 194 for the ride back to the MRT.   Let me say here that the bus drivers have been without exception friendly and helpful.  Every time we get on and off either the bus or the MRT, each of us must tap our transit cards on a little machine.  This can be a bit tricky when it is crowded, and on this occasion the bus driver shooed everyone else to the back of the bus and helped the children with their cards.  He also made sure we got off at the correct stop when I told him where we wanted to go.  Several other times perfect strangers have come up to me in or just outside the MRT stations and offered their assistance. 

This seems like a good time to discuss the fact that we feel like we are a bit of a spectacle as we make our way around the city.  James's blonde hair attracts its fair share of attention, most of it positive, and we simply have not seen very many children, even on Sunday.  There were a few more out and about on Wednesday, when we had the privilege of experiencing Singapore on a public holiday (lots of traffic jams and long queues to buy food).  For the most part, however, we feel as though we have a neon sign over our heads, especially as staring seems to be an acceptable practice.

We are of course well known in our hotel, which is mostly filled with well-heeled business travelers. James was reprimanded on our first morning here for getting off his chair at the breakfast table and walking around it ("Would you please restrain your son?" we were asked), causing me to second guess whether we should have come with Ross after all. That has been our only negative experience, however.  I have done my best to maintain a low profile.  Our waiter at breakfast every morning since the reprimand has greeted us with a big smile and delighted in serving the children hot cocoa.  He was the one to suggest it, and he loves to see them enjoying it.  Each cup has a different design made by the steamed milk.  This morning he confided to me that they get the cocoa from France, which is why it is so good. 

The concierges all seem to know about us.  When I went by myself to enquire about a taxi to the Night Safari, one responded, "Let's see, you have four children, the youngest about three or four years of age.  Is that correct?"  She was most helpful, but the taxi ride itself was full of frustration as we sat for over an hour in holiday traffic.  We could have traveled faster and for a fraction of the cost on public transit.  At the pool the next day, the pool attendant grinned and told us there was no need to give him our room number anymore.  He remembered it. "Every one else looks the same," he offered as an explanation, "but I remember you."

Another example of our notoriety:  On Wednesday, the public holiday, the kids and I happened to be in Chinatown around lunch time.  I decided the easiest way to get them fed would be to return to the popular dim sum restaurant where we had eaten on Sunday.  When the hostess saw my face through the crowds, she enquired, "Party of six?"  She clearly remembered us, hopefully not just because of the mess we made trying to help the kids use chop sticks before we gave in and requested forks for the younger three.  Both times we ate there we were pretty sure we were the only non locals, and we could feel the curious glances from every side.  The lady at the table next to us asked us, in fact, if we were tourists, and then she indicated with gestures that she wanted the food we could not eat.  This caused her companion to scold her for taking food away from James (we could wrap it up and give it to him later, she explained, mostly with hand motions).  We handed over what was left with a smile.

But back to Day 5:  After the aviary we headed for some relaxation at Wild Wild Wet.  This took about an hour on the MRT.  Earlier in the week I had given the kids the choice of Universal Studios, Sentosa Island (the most popular tourist destination in Singapore with lots of beaches and rides), or a water park, and they unanimously and without hesitation chose the water park.  This was fine by me, although I knew it wouldn't exactly be easy.  When we alighted at the Pasir Ris station, supposedly right next door to the water park, the surroundings did not look anything like the map I had consulted ahead of time. We wandered around a bit, conferred with a friendly but clueless stranger, and then decided a taxi was a good option.  Fortunately it only cost $3.80. 

The rest of the day was deemed a pure success by the children---wave pool, lazy river, water slides, and a perfect play area for James.  We saw one other American family with three small boys, but other than that, the other visitors seemed to be local.  What a difference, I must say, to a water park in North America as there was not a bikini in sight.  Many girls and all women wore shorts and shirts while swimming, several with long sleeves and long pants.

Above: Katie laughing because she is more interested in watching the Harry Potter trailer for the seventh movie showing on the screen above than in posing for yet another picture.

The monitors not only tell you exactly when the next train is arriving, they also often provide information as to which part of the train is least crowded.

I have no pictures of the water park as I locked up the camera before we started swimming.  I felt it would be difficult enough to keep track of four children, but fortunately it proved manageable.  I made the younger two wear life jackets, and had the older ones stay together.  We swam until about 6pm, and then headed back for one more long train ride back to the station closest to our hotel.  The day closed with wonderfully long, hot showers, followed closely by an early bedtime to recharge for our last full day of sightseeing in Singapore.

Singapore from the Hippo Bus

 

Last night I had to face the reality that my must see and do list for Singapore needed to be cut by at least half.  Six full days seems like plenty of time to see a city, and perhaps it would be for two adults in perfect weather conditions.  When one factors in three children who would appear to prefer the blizzard conditions of last February to the heat of the tropics, and one preschooler resolutely determined he will not be happy until he is back in his beloved Pittsburgh, six days turns into something closer to two and a half.  This led to my decision this morning to ignore my newly developed ability to utilize the public transportation system and purchase hop-on and hop-off tour bus tickets that would allow us to see the major sights from the comfort of an air conditioned bus. 

We began with the Heritage Bus Tour, and after one instantly-regretted decision to hop off and tour the famous colonial-era Raffles Hotel, we rode the bus all morning.  I consoled myself with seeing the outside of all of the points of interest and attempting to take the occasional picture as we rattled by.  Singapore is truly an efficient, modern city, very proud of its technological innovations, all of which provide an interesting contrast to the colorful apartment buildings and restored shophouses one sees everywhere---colors that in the United States would be found only within one hundred yards of the beach. 

We also couldn't help but notice the glittering Christmas decorations currently being installed throughout the city in a coordinated color scheme of blue, pink, and purple.  Katie thinks these colors are "just wrong", but she does agree with me that they seem more appropriate to the climate than the traditional red and green to which we are accustomed. An American expat we met yesterday while waiting for the bus to the Singapore Zoo informed us that Christmas is huge here, surprising given the small percentage of Christians to be found in Singapore.  Indeed every time we have walked by the moving, talking Santas at the Hershey Store near our hotel, we have seen Asians queuing up to have their photo taken with Santa.

The walk from our hotel to the bus stop, a mere four hundred yards or so, reminded me that we were still exhausted from yesterday's six hour visit to the Singapore Zoo.  Sitting in a bus and letting someone else figure out where to go sounded just about perfect.  I did manage to convince the kids to sit upstairs in the open air for at least part of the city tour, but occasionally in the interest of restoring good humor all around we retreated into the cool air below. 

 

Heading into Little India:

From Little India to the Arab Sector:

Icon of the Colonial Section of the city:

The Raffles Hotel, named after Singapore's British founder, Sir Stamford Raffles, enjoyed the prestige of being of the world's tallest hotels  for some time, and, according to The Rough Guide to Singapore, functioned as a byword for colonialism.  Curiously it originated as a modest seafront bungalow of an Arab trader before it was purchased by Armenians who turned it into a world-class hotel in 1887.

Much too hot for the Wilkin crew:  We hopped back on the bus as soon as ever we could after making a half-hearted attempt, in the midst of frequent outbursts of sibling bickering, to show some interest in the hotel that all tourists to Singpore supposedly visit.

Back to Chinatown:

The Merlion, symbol of Singapore:  I concur with others who have described it as rather ugly.

View of the Financial District:

The plan for tomorrow is to sleep in as long as possible (one can always hope) and then see Singapore from the hop-on and hop-off boat tour included in the price of today's ticket.  Depending on our moods and the weather, we may just stay on the boat until they tell us we have to get off.

 

Notes From Singapore, Day 1

At some point before we boarded the plane for Singapore I realized that we would be visiting during the rainy season.  Singapore is very close to the equator, which means its climate doesn't change much throughout the year.  It is generally hot and humid, with an occasional, but far from common monsoon.  Some days can bring lots more rain than others, however.  This we discovered today when we attempted, but failed, to take in the sights of Little India. Fortunately we had gotten an early start and managed to see many parts of Chinatown before the seemingly endless thunderstorms and ensuing steady rain began.

We did not feel particularly grateful at 4:45am when the children began stirring in their beds.  We kept them up last night well past their normal bedtime, and fed them a late supper after our 5pm (8pm Melbourne time) arrival at the impressively efficient Changi airport, but to little avail.  They have always been early risers, and spectacularly unable to take advantage of any helpful time changes that allow normal people to sleep in.  We were in our places for the beautiful breakfast buffet at our hotel before 7am, and ready to hit the streets of Chinatown by 8:00.

First on the agenda was tackling the MRT system, by far the cheapest way to transport all of us around the city.  My map-reading skills are deficient at best, but I had spent the better part of the seven hour flight the previous day reading The Rough Guide to Singapore and had at least a general feel for where we wanted to go and how to get there.  We purchased transportation cards that allowed us to pay the fares for the underground train easily, and in three stops, with one changeover, we emerged back into daylight at Pagoda St., the heart of touristy Chinatown. Not surprisingly, it was free from tourists at this time of day.  It had changed so much, in fact, by the time we made our way back around noon that we nearly missed the entrance to the MRT station.

We stopped first at the Sri Mariamman Temple, completed in 1843, and listed as a point of interest in our guide book.  Here we were required to remove our shoes before entering and to buy a ticket if we wished to take photos.  I was struck by the bright colors, and by the huge numbers of gods and goddesses depicted not only on the entrance gopurum but everywhere throughout the grounds.  We hung around the edges, but couldn't escape the cloying aroma of insence burning throughout the temple.  The children were somewhat bothered by the experience, and it led to a family discussion later that evening about various belief systems and how they differ from Christianity.  I had brought Window on the World with me, remembering its helpful descriptions of various world religions, so we consulted that as well, and finished our family time by reading John 14. 

Above:  White rice cooking not far from the sandy pit where male Hindus recently ran across red-hot coals to prove the strength of their faith. 

Below:  The Buddha Tooth Relic Temple, sanctuary of a tooth of Buddha supposedly discovered in 1980.  Built over two years from 2005 to 2007, the temple "clobbers you with its opulence," according to the Rough Guide authors, but we merely looked at it from across the street.

One hour of walking in the humidity made the prospect of cold drinks a welcoming one indeed.  Cameron tried the pineapple drink, while the more cautious girls chose coke.  We later realized we had stopped at one of Singapore's first hawker centers---much like a food court and a great place to try local cuisine, so we are told.

Below:  Outside the Thian Hock Keng Temple, listed as a top attraction in all of the guidebooks.  As we walked away, several large tour buses pulled into view.

After passing by several temples, shrines and mosques, it was with some relief that we entered the Chinese Methodist Church in the midst of their bustling morning tea.  We were welcomed warmly, supplied with sweet tea and hot chocolate, and then directed to the church's information displays.  We had managed to miss the English service, and chose not to wait for the much later Chinese service, but we were grateful for this interlude.

Below: Jaywalking can lead to heavy fines.

 

By 10:30, we were grateful for a bench in the shade.  I cropped Cameron out because the heat had by this time rendered him incapable of looking anything other than ferociously grumpy.  He was not impressed by my reminder that the majority of the world's population somehow manages to survive the heat on a regular basis.  He still wasn't reconciled to the whole idea of walking around Singapore when I said good night at 9pm.  In fact, the day had grown steadily worse in his estimation.  He had endured the horrible temperatures and sore feet, he explained (with the merest hint of a grin), all to see "a few pastelly buildings." 

We finished our tour of Chinatown with dim sum at a restaurant called Tak Po.  I well remember my first introduction to dim sum nearly twenty years ago when Ross and I visited a favorite Chinese restaurant in Ottawa on a Sunday afternoon.  We didn't know about dim sum then, and so requested to order from the regular menu.  The staff obliged us, but we soon realized our mistake as everyone else in the establishment picked up delicious-looking tidbits from carts circulating throughout the restaurant. Today we were told by the friendly staff exactly what to do.  We filled out little cards with our choices, and to our delight, the food arrived almost immediately.

Katie had some initial concerns, but loved the Chicken Congee--a big bowl of white looking soup--that she had chosen.  It was not at all what we expected, but it was quite edible. Fortunately there was plenty of white rice to fill up the pickier eaters in our family.

Following is a picture for our good friends in Richmond, as well as for my family members, taken an hour or so before the rain began.  Spending several hours in the hotel room has at least meant plenty of time to upload pictures for this post.  We have the umbrellas ready to pack for tomorrow's much-anticipated trip to the zoo as the weather forecast is pretty much the same as today's.  Perhaps we will not need to use them.

Cricket Culture

This is a subject for which we definitely could have benefited from some cultural training ahead of time.  I wrote in an earlier post about reading "Cricket for (American) Dummies" before Cameron's first training so that we could at least gain a basic idea of how the game was played, but little did I realize that what happens on the sidelines during the matches would present us with a whole new world as well.   Almost of equal importance to what the players themselves are doing, and how many wickets they have taken or whether they have been retired or knocked out of the game, is what is happening on the sidelines where the parents have congregated to watch, chat, eat and drink.  The sport aspect of it is taken seriously, to be sure, but our Friday evening cricket matches also serve as far more of a social and culinary affair than we could ever have anticipated.

Our understanding of this new world has grown steadily with each Friday night match.  On week 1 our team had a bye, so they spent the evening practicing bowling and hitting.  The second week I showed up for the 5pm start with my mom and two chairs, thinking we would be done by 6:30pm.  I left my dad and the other kids home with supper in the oven.  We sat down to watch, and I quickly realized we were sitting with the wrong team.  The other team's parents shared their hors d'oeurves with us anyway, and it began to dawn on me that I should have brought something to share.  Eventually a table was brought out and lined with a table cloth.  This was for "tea" for the boys playing, and I think it consisted of sandwiches, chips, donuts and cookies.  I'm not really sure because by this point it was after 6pm, and I had to get back home.  The other moms generously promised to feed Cameron sausages if necessary as he wasn't expected to be finished playing until 8pm or so.  I then realized they had brought enough food to feed a small army.  One mom explained that they didn't want to end up in the kitchen by the time everyone arrived home around 8:30pm.  I had by this time introduced myself to the parents of Cameron's team mates, and was struggling to learn some names (Edwina, Fiona, Carmel, and Irene were the four that "stuck.").

The evening of our second proper match I was at least prepared with food to feed our family, but found myself a bit intimidated as the dishes that others brought started appearing.  Edwina unwrapped a beautiful looking lamb, lentil and spinach salad.  As we stood around admiring it, she assured us that it was "nothing," just some marinated vegetables that she had sauteed, along with marinated lamb that her husband had seared on the barbecue.  The vegetables, including the curried lentils, were tossed with spinach and fresh coriander.  She kept the lamb in a separate container so the "vegos" could enjoy the salad, and insisted on giving us some to try.  Another mom brought a tray of sandwiches filled with lettuce, tomato and chicken schnitzel.

Along with the food came the drinks, including champagne for the moms, and beer for the dads.  I was a little taken aback when one of the coaches took his bottle onto the field with him when play resumed.  It sounds like this is rather rare, however, and at least one of the dads on Cameron's team has decried the whole idea of alcohol consumption at a sporting event for under elevens.

I don't have any pictures of food to share, so you will have to take my word for it.  I do have some pictures of Cameron playing in his first game.  The action shots are when he took his turn bowling (pitching), which he thoroughly enjoys.  He loves cricket so far, and is hoping to be able to play when we return to the U.S.  His coach firmly believes in letting the boys all have a go at the various positions, rather than focusing on winning.  This provided some consolation last week when they lost by nearly 100 runs.  During that game Cameron "played wicky."  Just before the game started two boys came running toward me, including  Cameron, with the other one telling me urgently "Cameron's playing wicky, Cameron's playing wicky."  Seeing the total lack of comprehension on my face, and realizing I wasn't jumping into action, the boy turned to another parent standing there and repeated his message.  Thankfully this dad knew what to do, and with an aside to me that Cameron would be playing the equivalent of catcher in American baseball, he helped Cameron don his gear (unfortunately I had forgotten my camera in my rush to get out the door with some food to share).  Cameron was grateful for the chance to try this position even though he realized others were more skilled at it.

Here is Cameron outfitted in what he needs to bat.  Who knew that a sport involving so little action could require so much expensive equipment?  Bill Bryson calls the leg pads "mattresses," and has many more hysterical descriptions of the game in his book.  I wish I could reprint two whole pages here.

Cameron's only complaint (and honestly I think he is a bit pleased by the attention) is the fact that he is an object of curiosity among his team mates because of his accent.  These were his words last Saturday morning as we discussed the game over breakfast:  "Last night I was ruthlessly assailed by my team mates as they wanted to me to say and spell words for them." When I pressed him for an example, he said, "They can't understand why I say mom instead of mum."

The highlight for him so far was being presented with the ball after the first game.  His coach said he earned it because he "took the first wicket."  I'm still a little fuzzy on the details, but it seems that Cameron was bowling when an opposing player hit the ball straight up into the air, allowing it to be easily caught.  The player was then "out" for the rest of the game, meaning he would never get a chance to bat again.  It is a cruel sport, and one can understand the attraction of having delicious food to compensate---both for the disappointment of getting out (for the players) and for what some would call boredom (for the spectators).  It would be an understatement to say that there isn't a lot of action on the field.  If I struggled to maintain my enthusiasm for endless innings of baseball the last time Cameron played, cricket is going to present far more of a challenge.  Apparently there are eighteen total matches in the season---plenty of time for enjoying lots of gourmet food offerings on the sidelines, and perhaps figuring out some of the myriad rules that comprise this mysterious sport.

Mail Delivery

This post is for my father-in-law who walked approximately thirteen miles every day delivering mail before he retired.  I often think of him when I catch a glimpse of the distinctive yellow outfit and red motobike used to distribute the post down under.

We are usually never in doubt as to whether our mail(mostly bills and junk with a few very welcome exceptions) has arrived, because we begin to hear the distinctive whine of the brakes of the motorbike every afternoon around 2pm , approximately 10-15 minutes before the envelopes are dropped into our slot.  The posties, as they are called, remain very focused on their jobs, zipping up and down the sidewalks much more efficiently than our standard mail truck in the U.S.  I am curious to see if their summer uniform is different from what I have seen them wearing thus far.