In my last year in Perth, I became a health-nut, well, kindda. Okay, not really. I was just trying my very junk-food-loving best to eat somewhat healthily so that I could then eat all the junk I wanted without feeling (too) guilty. I became the person in the supermarket who takes forever to choose her groceries because I'd be busy trying to compare with was the heathiest (but still tasty) yoghurt to buy.

But when I came back to Singapore, imagine when I found to my horror that nutirition labels aren't standarised! That means is way harder to compare the nutiritional value (or lack there of) between brands. They don't all list them in nice neat tables telling you the nutirition per serving AND per 100g, as my beloved Australian labels do. How on earth do I know what I'm eating?! Bah! Give me my nutrition lables, Singapore!

It's been a while since I last posted. In that time, I've gone back to work full-time (temporarily). Between that, my volunteer position and falling sick, I've had precious little time and head-space to myself. But in that time, I've also received final confirmation that I am indeed going to be leaving Perth and heading back to Singapore in July. Hence it calls for a new series of posts: on things I'll miss.
Number one, undoubtedly, is going to be the people. Having lived here now some 8 years, I've grown attached to the people here. From my small group, churchmates and drama team to colleagues, uni friends and just Perthians in general, I am going to miss them. It must be the air in Perth but everyone here always seems so much friendlier?


Image of Aussies borrowed from here

It's old news now, but I thought I couldn't not do a post about Shaun Tan winning an Oscar for The Lost Thing.

Although he's already won many awards for his books, the Ocasr win will really propel him into pop culture. (I hope!) And rightly so. He's a brilliant artist and has wonderful ideas.
Most people think picture books are for children. In Singapore, I was looking for one of his books in the library, classed under Junior Fiction. They had a section for picture books and I couldn't find it there, so I asked the librarian if there were any other picture books. And the response was, "Picture books? Like for children?" Of all people, surely librarians would know that picture books aren't only for children!
I've re-read (re-viewed) his books many times and each time I notice details that I hadn't before. They are delightful.
I guess it's hard not to have a soft spot for someone successful who comes from "the most isolated city in the world" and graduated from the same university. It's kindda like when the 2005 Nobel Prize for medicine was won by Barry J. Marshall and J. Robin Warren. Marshall is Western Australian and is also a graduate of my university.
Go sandgropers, show them what we've got!

(Okay, so I know I'm a little late. But it's only one day!)
Australia has been my adopted home for the last 8 years. And for good reason too! I love living in this country and all that it affords. So like many other Australians, I gathered with friends yesterday, hung out at the pool, then went to watch the fireworks.
Here are some reasons why I call Australia home:
1) Friendly people
2) Breath-takingly beautiful places (most of which I have yet to see!)
3) (Mostly) good weather for outdoor activities
4) Space. (Very important when you've come from a 710.2 km2 country.)
5) Everyone gets a fair go
6) Work/life balance
7) Clear skies at night for star gazing

Those are just some of the top of my head. Comment with your own!
Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Oi, oi, oi!

The first time I baked with an Australian friend, I asked him to pass me the 'flour'.
'The what?'
'Flour.'
'Flour?'
'Flour!'
But this time, my friend was laughing so hard, he couldn't even respond.

Now the IPA for flour is 'flaʊə', which is the exact same one for 'flower'. (See the Oxford Dictory entry for flour and flower.) But most Singaporeans/Malaysians pronouce it as 'flar'.
I used to believe that it's another British/American difference. (Like the 'ə-LOO-mi-nəm' vs 'AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm'.) But the American Dictionary.com also lists 'flour' as pronounced with 2 syllables. You can even click on the link to listen.
The dictionaries also note that 'flour' came from the word, 'flower'; in the sense that the 'flower'/'flour' was the finest part of the meal (like the finest part of the plant, I suppose). Until about 1830, the spelling was changed to the present 'flour' to avoid confusion.
So why do Singaporean and Malaysians say 'flar'? It beats me! Perhaps we just got lazy with the 2 syllables and combined it into one and it just stuck. Or they wanted to futher reduce the confusion.
What I do know is that if I say ‘flar’ in Australia, America, Britain or any other English-speaking country, no one would understand me. But if I say ‘flower’ when I mean ‘flour’ in Singapore or Malaysia, they’d think I’m gila.

You can press the buzzer as soon you as you know the answer. You do not need to wait until the entire clue is read. First to guess correctly, wins. Ready? Go!

Useful for storing food, or for lining hats to keep the alien brainwaves at bay, this object is a fixture around the world. It is a paper-thin sheet of a rolled light-weight silver-white metallic element that tears easily and can be used to wrap and store food, in art, as decoration, as insulation and in heat exchangers. First developed in 1910 as a replacement for tin foil, it gained popularity quickly. It is not merely seen in home use, but also has many commercial uses. Manufacturers quickly found that it preserved food from bacteria growth, and prevented light from spoiling the food, or moisture from collecting in it. It also does not impart any flavor to the food. Many manufacturers use it to line drink boxes, thermal bags and other foods.

Buzz! Time's up! Got it?

As you should have guessed by now, I am talking about the humble aluminium foil. (As if the picture didn't already tell you.)

Unlike you, dear readers, who knew exactly what I was talking about, 2 different supermarket personnel did not. I was in a different supermarket than the one I usually shop at, and needed to get aluminium foil. So after wandering around and not finding it, I asked someone stocking food. After looking at me quizzically and making me repeat myself several times, she said, "Aisle One". I couldn't find it in Aisle One so I asked another worker who happened to be in the said aisle. I got the same puzzled look and again repeated myself several times before a look of recognition finally crossed his face and led me to the desired product.
It was strange but I put it down the incompetence of people working in Unnamed Supermarket. And it was not until my sister recounted a conversation she had with an American lady about the difference between Australian pronunciation and 'ours' that it all made sense. Apparently, Australians (like Brits) say 'AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm' whereas I would say it the American way, 'ə-LOO-mi-nəm' (Listen to the difference.) I had no idea! It has taken me almost 8 years of living here to finally realise that I say 'ə-LOO-mi-nəm' differently to most Australians!
This brought me to another idea. My students often accuse tell me that I have an American accent, which I find hard to believe since I've only spent 6 months in the US but almost 8 years here. But nonetheless, they tell me it's there. Coming from post-colonial Singapore, I've always believed that I've been taught British English. (I spell with a "u" words like 'colour' and 'favour'; use 's' with 'organise' and 'realise'; and 'grey' with an 'e'. A habit I found hard to part with when I spent a semester at the University of Michigan.) But could it be that the Singapore education system teaches British spellings and most British pronunciations but some American pronunciations snuck in? Or have I just learnt the American accent from too much American tv shows and Hollywood movies? I doubt the latter. I know, for sure, that I learnt the British pronunciation of 'vase', 'semi', 'anti' and 'lychee'. (The American pronunciations of those words grate my nerves!) But I don't ever remember being taught the British/Australian 'AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm'. How strange!
What I do remember however, is 'flar' for 'flour'. But that's another pronunciation tale for another time!

Thanks to this site for help with the clues to aluminium foil and this other one for for the photo of the foil.

This woman is amazing! I wish I had that ability. I have a few convincing ones. But I've always wanted to be able to speak with an Irish accent.
I have, what I'd like to think as, an untraceable accent. Most new people I meet cannot figure out where I'm from unless I tell them. I like that. But it's also because I code-swtich, that is, I adjust how I'm speaking to who I'm talking to. So perhaps it's more accurate to say accents. It's a skill I began honing in my first year of uni, living in college. I had friends from all over the world sitting at the same dinner table. The only way they could all easily understand me was to talk as accent-neutral as possible. But if there was a Singaporean present, I could just as easily switch back into Singlish.
There are many contributing factors to my accent/s:
1. My parents don't have strong Singaporean accents.
2. Living in Australia.
3. Living in America.
4. Teaching, particularly international students.
I don't know my what my "normal" accent even is. Because it's largely circumstantial, normal when I was teaching full-time was the neutralish/Australianish (and my kids used to tell me that it sounds American) accent I used in the classroom; yet normal now is the Singaporeanish accent I use with churchmates with whom I'm spending copious amounts of time in rehearsals.
Maybe I need to go live in Ireland.

I experienced an acute sense of “homelessness” when I was at the airport a few weeks ago. Having grown up in Singapore and then lived in Perth for the last 7 years, I never quite know which place to call ‘home’. Neither city feels quite like ‘home’; when I’m in one, I miss the other. Since I’ve had two ‘homes’, my luggage tags have got both addresses and I swap them around as the need be. So this time I got the Perth airport and needed to change the luggage tags to the Singapore address, only to realise the address is wrong – my parents have moved. To make matters worse, even the Perth address on the other side was wrong because I’ve just moved! So there I was stuck at the airport with two addresses that are not my own. To make matters worse, I didn’t even know what the Singapore address was! I had to make a long distance call to my folks to find out.
The whole business of moving homes makes me sad. In Perth, the area I moved out from is where I’ve lived for the last 7 years. It’s where I’ve gone for long runs, bike rides, deep conversations, isolated pondering spots; where I studied, where I worked, where my friends lived. At one point, my whole existence was practically within walking distance from my house. In Singapore, it was house I lived out my teenaged years in: where I befriended cats, where I learnt Taekwondo, where I ran, where I swam, where I cycled, where I hated the terrain every day I had to lug my school bag to trudge up the hill. I am sad to leave both of these places behind. But circumstances necessitated the moves.
But perhaps this longing for a place to call home is far deeper than a longing for a physical location to lay my head at night. Maybe it is this feeling that Jesus referred to when he said that “[f]oxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." (Luke 9:58) Perhaps it is an echo of a longing for something more, much more. A longing for that which is to come. And it is in light of this that it is no wonder that I would feel such “homelessness”. I think this feeling will always accompany me until I am finally called Home, Sweet Home.
This world is not my home, I’m just passing through. My treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door and I won’t feel at home, in this world any more.

Image of luggage tags taken from here

I was in the middle of animatedly telling one of my stories about being on a hike and my Singaporean hearer asked, "So what's the Australian bush like?" My description of it being "not as green" and "not as dense" as a tropical rainforest didn't do it justice. So I thought I'd post up pictures instead.
I was on a hike with friends near the northern end of the Bibbulmun Track in Kalamunda. (I've done bits and pieces of the other sections and hope one day to finish the whole trail, end to end. But that would take at least 8 weeks!) These pictures were taken about a year ago, courtesy of WerX:

On the Trail. Taking a Break.
As you can tell, the Australian Bush isn't uniform and it is not all dessert, despite the dominant image of the Australian Outback. The green spikey fronds you can see in both pictures are grass trees - very slow growing plants that survive forest fires and are notoriously expensive if you wanted one in your garden. (A mere 1 metre high plant will cost upwards of $500.) I like being out in the Australian Bush. There is nothing like being out in the middle of nowhere to show you tiny and insignificant you are in the cosmos of the universe.
I miss being on a hike. Mish and a few other teachers have just returned from taking the students on another hike. I would have been there, if I wasn't here. It's always thrilling to be around young people when it dawns on them that they can accomplish more than they intially believe that they can. It's one of those golden moments in teaching.

Oh and since it's been a week and no one else seems to be taking a shot at Opening Lines: Leon, you win! Congratulations! And I've posted the answers in the comments, if anyone's interested. I was a little sneaky with Number 11, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." It is not only the beginning of the Book of John in The Bible but also the first line of The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco.

Some kids just do not know, or have not been taught at home, the boundaries of appropriate/ inappropriate behaviour. I have kids who constantly ask me if I’ve eaten rice or noodles for lunch. This was after I had told them not to run around yelling, “Ni hao?” (a Mandarin Chinese greeting for “how are you”) every time they see me. (This reminds me of another similar incident from before I started teaching.) I take offence at these remarks because while they are not derogatory, they are fundamentally racist in nature. After all, I don’t badger any Italians I know if they’ve had pizza or pasta today. Nor do I ask any of the true-blue Australians (if we believe such a thing exists) if they’ve had a vegemite sandwich and wheetbix.
Conversely, I also have students who ask me to teach them phrases in Chinese, who are genuinely interested to learn about my culture and heritage. These questions I enthusiastically entertain as I know that there is no malice or intention to exclude and single me out on the basis of my ethnicity. It’s the manner in which it is done and intention behind it that matters. But how do I explain that to a bunch 14 year olds who think that everything is one big joke?
It’s not an issue about political correctness. Done in the right spirit, I am happy to accept jokes about Chinese or Singaporeans, etc. This is not. I resent being referred to as “the Asian English teacher” as if my ethnicity should matter in the assessment of my teaching ability. One class of students studied Rabbit Proof Fence and To Kill a Mockingbird this year. Some of them ‘get’ it and some of them still don’t. Some of them still think that racism is a myth. Yet every day I am made aware of the fact that it is well alive and kicking.

*The term "banana" in a Singapore context denotes a person of Chinese heritage who is metaphorically yellow on the outside but white on the inside. One who has been white-washed, often unable to speak Chinese well. I can't even use chopsticks the 'right' way so the term quite aptly describes me. See "But Mummy, Aren't We English?" and Phonecall with Dad for more.