Singapore Day 29: Wrapping up the month

Zentangle #3: Cry for the city

W goes off to teach his last session. I start to pack and tidy up the bedroom.

While I relax, I draw my third Zentangle. We picked up four black gel pens @ S$1.50 ($1.20 US) last night after supper. Little India is full of bargains and the pens are good fun.

W lets his class out two hours early. He starts to gather the tech gear into his hard-shell suitcase for protection and security. The month of teaching has flown by for both of us.

We head for IKEA. It might not sound like a foreign destination, but every shop has local tweaks. In advance of setting up a home in Bandung, we've been scouting out furnishings and prices. IKEA lands in Jakarta next year. We trust their dishes to be lead-free, their plastics non-toxic, and their furniture classic. I'm hungry, so we eat in the cafeteria. I should have skipped the pasta with its watery tomato sauce and meatballs. We love Asian food: it's a shame to miss even a meal.

Look-alike to the lady nearby

At the next table sits the most beautiful Indian woman I've seen in Singapore. She could be a model, with her perfectly painted eyebrows and lips, and a stunning black flip. Before we leave, I say hi and tell her husband he's a lucky man. Their preteen son smiles at his pretty mom. Singaporeans tend to have few children: most of the island's population growth comes from immigrants and the bigger families of Muslims.

The market bustles with shoppers

We hop the shuttle bus to the center of Tampines, a series of three malls and a crowded Ramadan market. Two weeks ago, thin and nimble men bolted and clambered on the metal trellises. They stretched canvas over the frame to assemble a huge covered space. Kirsten and I were in awe: they hung 20' above the ground without safety harnesses. Now, the booths inside seem to be selling phone covers, fake purses, and food.

Japanese prawn and
chicken croquettes

Neither of us is hungry. But we pick up a "Satay burger" (mutton, peanut sauce, and lettuce on a bun) and some Japanese croquettes. The vendors pour dough into round, cast iron trays, letting the dough firm up before flipping them over with long skewers.

We walk a mile or so to Tampines Shopping Street to see if we can find a massage place. There are two reflexology shops. Indonesians charged $11 for an hour. Here it's $35-50. Too much. We get a bubble tea instead.

Supper last night in Little India
with Augustine and Sumathi

It takes us less than a half hour to walk home but it's very humid and hot (in the 90s. As usual, a surprising number of people are exercising: shooting hoops on the basketball courts atop parking garages, cyclists speeding by, and lots of people out walking.

We split the mutton burger and each try a croquette. (Shall we have leftovers for lunch tomorrow after church?)

One day left. Unbelievable! God has faithfully helped us to do good work. Today W brought back a card from a student who took all three of our classes. Students with similar enthusiasm and progress make our time - and the long flights - feel worthwhile.

Singapore Day 13: Creative classroom

A perfectly captured moment: check
out more marvelous paintings by
the artist: Prabhakara Jimmy Quek

You wouldn't think that a Research Methods class would be a creative endeavor. But the seven students from Singapore and Malaysia have wonderful stories. Today they presented topics that interest them, headed toward a finished paper. Hopefully each will have most of the research done and the paper written by next weekend.

Singapore demands a different kind of busy of its citizens. It's on the run 24-7. Our students come to class 8:30am-1:30pm (8-1:30 next week). Afterwards, they go to ministry events, work, or other commitments. Between leaving class and returning (I'm not sure when), they do their homework and prep for classes.

I'm so grateful for the TESOL classes with Dr. Kobashigawa, taken just before we left Seattle. I've tried to carry over the relaxed intensity of her classroom to our Singapore experience. We have to accomplish a lot, but we take a half-hour breakfast break at 10 and have other breaks between work sessions. After we finish, there's cleanup and an evening ahead.

W, Kirsten, Jeremy, and Rebekah are downtown by the time I finish teaching. The guys walk around in SimLim (tech mall), the girls look for clothes, and eat an early supper in town.

Meanwhile, I head back to the flat and finish the porridge (rice mush with chicken and egg in it) left over from brunch. It tasted fantastic in the morning and still tickles my taste buds this afternoon, though it looks plain and kind of slimy.

J and R arrived during the night. They had an empty seat between them on their flights, a true luxury. However, due to turbulence, no one could use the toilets between Tokyo and Singapore. Needless to say, there were long lines for the restrooms in the airport. W went to the airport to fetch them, but it took them a while to get through the bathroom lines and back to the flat.

I saw the kids for a quick hello and goodbye before heading for class this morning. It's nice to have them here. We miss Timothy and Melissa but it's their turn to travel with us next time, perhaps to Bandung. (Jono, we miss you too. He was here last time we taught in S'pore.)

Kirsten's acupuncture session and herbal meds seemed to help with her joint pain yesterday, but she's pretty sore today. W and the kids come home exhausted. Kirsten's joint are aching, Rebekah's feeling the heat. Jeremy's knee hurts and W's throat is raw. (Good thing he's not teaching this week. He's tour guide and host, between projects.)

I have my grading done by the time everyone gets back. K heads for a nap, W hops online, and the other two relax and set up their phones. I'm ready for morning class, then it's onward ho to the weekend.

Singapore Day 9: Water world and a Sunday sabbath

The Merlion, mythical mascot of Singapore

Kirsten arrives in the middle of the night, safe and sound. She was blessed to have Economy Comfort on the 19 hour flight from Minn. She reports: "The seat didn't seem to recline much - but I was happy about the extra leg room!"

Needless to say we are all awake for hours. (W took the bus to the airport and came back by taxi with K.) K unpacks into her cabinets: oh daughter of her mother. It's the first thing I do upon arrival = empty the suitcases into dressers and onto hangers.

We wake very late. W and I walk to get breakfast and it starts to drip. Soon there are big splashes of water. Wide splats landing on the sidewalk.

By the time we get under cover at the mini-mall, it's seriously raining. Vendors pull their movable displays under cover into the walkways, and rush to pull down tarps. The splash-up from the pavement is 6-10". We end up eating inside in the main cafeteria.

Glutenous rice in its leaf package

Unwrapped, a delicious mix
of sauce, seasoning, and meat

W has glutenous rice (a dim sum standard). I choose noodles, broth and veges, but the selection is skimpy. For S$4.20 ($3.50US), we can choose 6 items and noodles. I put in my bowl: 2 ladyfingers (okra), two kinds of mushroom, an egg, and broccoli. The chef submerges it in boiling broth. (Better to come in the afternoon for tastier broth!) Bags of fresh vegetables lie on the table beside us: they'll be washing and cutting those up for another hour or two. They keep bringing out greens until I'm nearly done.

Splashes and puddles form quickly!

After breakfast, W buys an umbrella: we have 3 in the flat where they're doing us no good. The rain has slowed from a deluge to a downpour by the time we stop by a bakery for some pastries to share with Kirsten.

We slog home, my flip-flops shedding water. W's Keens keep the water off until we're nearly home and the puddles are deep. Water rushes off the paved surfaces through metal grates, forming turbulent rivers in the concrete drainage canals. Every few days during dry season (now), God washes the leaves and removes smells of drainage and garbage, refreshing the air and the ground as water rushes to the sea.

K sleeps until noon. W and I are going through the Bible (he in big chunks; I listening on my IPad), but it's strange not to get to morning service. I sat through a wonderful sermon yesterday at the wedding, and I think that was my sabbath. W's been teaching theology all week in his classroom community. Our church routines are jumbled, and we miss Creekside Church (where we are members.) However, we sense God's presence in the preparation and interactions with others. We are thankful to be in ministry at home and here.

By the time we're ready to leave the flat, it's 3pm. We spend the afternoon in Singapore, letting Kirsten get acclimated to the weather. She's walking well and her arthritis is pretty quiet, even after a 4 hour flight to Minneapolis and 19 hours to Singapore. We are so grateful to God for his mercy on her.

Puri putra steamer

In the neighborhood mall a few nights ago, we tried puri putra. A gal scoops rice flour onto a 2" metal plate. She sprinkles it with brown sugar and covers the sugar with more rice flour. She spins another plate over to remove excess flour, making each "cookie" the same size. She uses rice flour and brown sugar, nothing more, nothing less.

"I learned how to do this from my sister. It is traditional Malay dessert," she explains.

The contraption to steam it is interesting (see photo). The gal shows us how she covers the rice powder with a 5" piece of fabric, slips a little metal "hat" over, and flips it over to cook on metal plates resting on the steam pot. It takes 5 minutes to steam: a serving is five 2" cookies, plenty between W and me.

 Thank you for your prayers for our time of ministry. I usually write about things I think will interest the reader: however, this is a serious time of ministry and prayer for us. We appreciate your support and partnership! Much love from Singapore from all the K's.

Singapore Day 8: Wedding day, Chinatown, and baby chopsticks

W takes his class out for roti prata (see Day 1 for the menu), his traditional last-day gift to them. I join them. They want to hear how we met and fell in love. They're very complimentary about the Systematic Theology class: W loves to teach and has no trouble communicating across culture.

Then it's back to the office to work. Finally, my teaching material and handouts are sorted and ready for Tuesday's class. Kirsten comes tonight night (1:30am) so the flat will start to fill up with our kids. The other two (Jeremy and his wife Rebekah) arrives Tuesday.

Two former ATC students are getting married at 11am. Guests are pouring into the building when we return from our late breakfast. I decide to duck into the service to see a Singaporean Christian wedding. Strings of hearts hang above the escalator, and the stage is simply decorated with two tall bar tables wrapped in fabric.

Two members of the worship team warm up the crowd in Singlish and Mandarin. The groom walks down the aisle alone at 11:15. The keyboardist plays as the attendants come in: two little girls lead the procession.

Finally, everyone stands as the bride is announced, walking slowly down the long aisle on the arm of her father. People clap, cheer her on, and stand until she's at the front and has been handed off to the groom.

The young couple sits in the front row during a 15 minute worship set. The PPT is in English and Mandarin, and verses are sung alternately in both languages.

Pastor Joseph (who preached Sunday) tells how Hans and Jan met in class. They told him exactly the same thing had attracted them to each other: a love for God and his mission, and a passion to serve children. The bride worked with Joseph in planting churches in Fiji - she leads worship, works with children, and is a vibrant minister. The groom likewise loves children's work.

After a half-hour message, given in English and interpreted into Mandarin, the couple steps onto the stage to exchange vows and rings. He kisses her, someone sings, and the crowd cheers.

There's a banquet set up in the parking garage under the building. White plastic chairs line a huge circumference around the buffet of hot dishes, desserts, and decor in the enter. There must be several hundred guests. Many are children and teens. It's noisy, friendly, and festive.

Looking through images online, I find my sister: doesn't this gal look like me? (She's prettier, but still... at some S'pore gala last year.)

At 3pm, W and I take the #12 bus to Chinatown. It takes an hour and twenty minutes to wind through the neighborhoods. We're both dehydrated and hungry, so we stop at the first place that looks decent. It's in the basement of a huge complex. The air-con is so high that our spicy hot bowl of noodles tastes just right. Mine is curried with egg, jalapenos, tiny tofu cubes, and cilantro. W's is hotter still, a red broth with thin noodles and an assortment of meats. I order a lemon grass drink that's perfumed like jasmine and rose water. Refreshing, and yummy.

We browse through the little streets of Chinatown to see what's new. Honestly, not much has changed. There are hundreds of vendors with assortments of Chinese lanterns, chochkes, souvenirs, kids' clothes with lots of embellishments, bracelets, lucky charms, and just plain junk. It's good fun. We pick up "Angry Bird" baby chopsticks for Kinsey (granddaughter) to play with.

We watch in astonishment at the square full of people who've paid their $3 to do Texas line dancing in the Chinatown Plaza. Some wear cowboy hats, some have boots and swinging skirts. They're all ages. Some 70-year-olds have the moves and shimmeys down cold. Other Western tourists stop and can't believe their eyes, just like us. (Videos, click here and here.)

We decide to take the MRT home. On two trains and a mile+ walk, it takes us 1:10. Bit faster. Better exercise, but less scenery. The humidity is 80% and the temperature is 31oC (88oF). Not bad. There's a gathering of Muslim men under one complex. The women sit on a rug off to the side. It's not mosque day but there are dozens gathered. We are traveling at a good clip as we angle through the apartments toward our own, and they hardly pause to glance up.

When we get home, we flip the air-con on to 27oC (80oF) and it feels utterly cool. W will get a cat-nap and then head to the airport after midnight to pick up Kirsten. Can't wait to see her.

Read more:
*I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. Job 42:2 NLT

*When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who watch over my way. Psalm 142:3 NIV

*Jesus said, “So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.” Luke 21:14-15 NLT

*Jesus replied, “What is impossible for mortals is possible for God.” Luke 18:27 NLT

Moravian Prayer: Almighty God, all things are possible through you. When we feel afraid, help us to remember your greatness and your goodness with wonder, love, and praise.

Steadfast God, we count on you to give us words and actions that nurture, heal, and serve. Watch over us and grant us strength and goodness. Amen.

Singapore Day 5: Food. And more food.

The day starts up with two small pastries I picked up from a bakery last night. I share, but still ... I'm eating before I'm hungry. Cheryl takes me along to Mr. Prata, but I can only tolerate a TeeO (black tea and sugar). When the gals head back to work after 10, I look for W, who's on breakfast break with his students. I order a plate of noodles and long (green) beans. They're cold and greasy but I eat most of them.

The students remark on the way I hold my chopsticks. "You know how to hold properly," they exclaim. "We never teach our children so they hold any way. How did you learn?"

From the pictures on the back of chopstick wrappers, of course.

I ask the younger students for a demonstration. "Why do the elders say you don't know how to hold?" They show me how they cross the sticks and randomly stab at food. It's funny to watch. They weren't taught so they just pick up the food however they can. Most Singaporean Chinese alternate chopsticks with a fork and spoon.

"We have to start teaching children to use chopsticks," sighs one of the women. "And you from USA can use it?" The young gal beside me asks how I do it, and with a quick demo tries it out. "I drop food lah." Oh well. You can hardly starve to death here. With spoon. Fork. Or chopsticks.

A food stall in a hawker marker

Cheryl knocks on the office door at noon and invites me along to an official luncheon. They're saying goodbye to a coworker on her last day. However, nothing is mentioned "because she might be emotional about the farewell." Goodbyes will be said privately to this greatly appreciated helper.

Where do we go? To a buffet. Our options:

• Chinese stir-fry and rice (snow crab and noodles; scallops and tofu...)
• Japanese sushi (beautiful. Lots of variety)
• Curries and meats in sauce (mutton curry; Indian beef, etc.)
• Tempura (shrimp, beef, taro, tofu)
• Laksa (coconut and meat soup)
• Satay (beef, chicken, squid, etc.) For this you clip the table number to a stake of the type of meat you want and the chef cooks it up, clips your table number to the skewer, and servers bring it to you.
• Dim sum (5 enormous steamers of buns and assorted offerings)
• Pizza and other western foods
• Ben and Jerry ice-cream bar
• A pudding and fruit bar: the guava slices with plum sugar are fantastic. I spoon a bit of mango puree into a little cup and put a half-scoop of "B&J Chocolate Therapy" on top.
• Cake desserts (brownies, squares, etc.) I skipped these entirely.
• Drink bar: assorted teas and coffees (hot and cold), pop, fruit drinks, water

The variety of food is staggering

A small Malay motions me forward at the ice cream bar. His feet are injured so I wave him ahead. The longest line is at that counter. Everyone grabs the same ice cream scoops and plunges them into the cold water pot when they're done. (That can't be good for us.)

I try to limit my portions but we eat for an hour and a half, between laughing about our common love of Korean drama, miming Bollywood-style motions, and chatting about kids and school and recipes. It's delightful, but we're all so full we just want to sleep when we get back to the office.

Typical neighborhood: looming housing

After work, W and I walk from the flat to the nearby neighborhood center. There are skyscrapers on every side. Once we explore, I have wonton soup and W gets dim sum. We snag a few mini Magnum ice cream bars, stuff them in a freezer bag, and head home. Pistachio ice cream. Groan. Even if it's a little bar, I'm stuffed from lunch, never mind from supper.

We have emails to catch up on and a bit more work to do before bed. I watch an hour of KBS (Korean TV). Cheryl and her kids have a supper appointment before she comes home to pack. They fly out in the early morning hours. (Jay flew home Sunday night. That was a close call: he'd though his flight was Monday until they checked the ticket Sunday evening. Oh my!)

We'll be in the flat on our own until Kirsten arrives early Saturday. I have a pile of research to finish before the weekend. Can't believe it's going to be Thursday when we wake up. It's nearly the end of June. Is anyone else feeling like summer is rushing by?