The Public Pool

Dearest Alison,

The next time you fancy taking a dip in the public pool, please consult this blog post.

3 reasons why you should not wear a bikini to the public pool.

1 The pool is situated beside a mosque.

1.1 As you swim, you can literally see the crescent moon rising into the sky.

1.2 You can't shake the knowledge that there are masses of praying men in the building right next to the pool.

2 Malay families

2.1 Malay families - Hoards of screaming children, diver-suit like swimming costumes and judgmental parental eyes.

3 Everyone, with the exception of teenage boys at the pool is either over 40 or under 12. One word- Stares.

7 reasons why you should not go to the public pool.

1 The water is salty.

2 You can't swim a lap without bumping into some really old or really young body.

3 No hot water in the showers.

4 The water in the showers only run for 2 seconds per press of the button.

5 No hair dryers or electrical outlets.

6 You never know what sort of diseases the people sharing the same body of water with you have.

7 Swimming lessons, aqua-aerobic lessons, everyone else has more claim over the pool than you do.

BE WARNED

The night is mine

I like to complain to others about my insomnia, my screwed up sleep cycle. The complaints are really just an attempt at normalcy that I hide behind. The truth is, I love my late nights, my early mornings, my solitude. I can close my eyes and dance under the fluorescent light of my room. The light that seeps through my eyelids has the quality of sunlight that only exists in photographs. The kind of light that permeates three-quarters of the frame, dusty and enveloping.

At times, I go to the McCafe a short walk away with a book. The barista always prepares my coffee with such exceptional patience and care, at a time where he has no one else to serve. He brings it to me, me in my grey dimpled chair next to the transparent glass, made dark by night. Smiles and no conversation.

When I grow restless, I take a walk. Sure enough, there are always these stragglers walking alone at night. There is a code for wandering, you can look from afar but when you draw near to another being, you must look away. Strangely enough, the darkness isn't so much of a cover when one is purposeless. I always think of the same thing when I see middle aged drifters. I wonder if their existence on the streets have to do with a quarrel with their spouses or their children, if a hostile home environment is what drove them out.

I like how a few hours means so much more at night than it does in the day. The difference between 2pm and 5pm isn't so much to a day person. At night though, the difference between 2am and 5am is phenomenal. Similar to its pm counterparts, it can pass by in a heartbeat with a good book, some work or even quality television programming. The key lies in how the three hours between 2pm and 5pm feels like time that should be lived and used, whereas using time between 2am and 5am feels almost sacrilegious. Every time I look at the clock, a small, slightly guilty bubble of delight rises in my tummy. I feel like I am getting something that others do not have, like the night is mine.

Belongings

I really do not know how to pack. After moving around on my own for so long, my possessions no longer have a place in Singapore. Instead, they have attached themselves to my homes away from home. With regards to material possessions, I have literally nothing of use to me in Singapore. All the clothes that I wear, my toiletries, my camera equipment and my favorite books follow me around wherever I go.

I must admit that the above phenomenon is a result of me never spending more than a month in Singapore at a time. In Shanghai, I always had a place to stay at during the holidays. This meant that I never had to go home if that was what I wished. Here, I suddenly am faced with the prospect of 4 months at home and having to pack up all my belongings into two bags for storage. Without a place of my own overseas, I suddenly feel kind of homeless. Also, I am faced with the prospect of having to bring, under a baggage limit of 25kg, all that I need to live on for 4 months. Its insane. I don't even know if I have a place to stay should I choose to come back a couple of days earlier. To compound to that, the building that I am supposed to live in, isn't even completed.

What keeps me feeling safe and grounded while I am alone overseas has always been the knowledge that I have a tiny little space to call my own. A bed, a chair and all my lovely books waiting for me. Now, I'm adrift.

YAY!

Learnt phonetics in a night! My confidence is restored. It is true, I can do almost anything if I set my mind to it! (Okay... maybe with the exception of sports and music hahaha!)