Sing sang sung

Somehow I can’t get past the alliterative aspects of Singapore. I’m sure it will continue to entertain me for quite awhile. Then again, I am usually easily entertained – bits of paper, pieces of string, and small shiny objects enthrall me. And distract me from whatever I’m trying to—ooh! A shiny thing!

So today I had carrot cake, which contrary to expectations was neither cake nor was it carrot. Instead of moist and fluffy carroty cake goodness, I received a plate of…something. They call it chai tow kway. There were eggs and little lumps of things that looked a bit like potatoes. Turns out they were bits of some kind of radish, which is apparently close enough that people would call it carrot (apparently the word for daikon, the radish, is similar to the word for carrot), interspersed with unidentifiable lumps and held together with egg. Slightly sweet, slightly salty, it tasted quite good and was likely unhealthy, and was available with or without soy sauce. This was accompanied by, if I recall correctly, a meatless version of Malaysian rojak, a roll of some kind of dough which is fried and sliced (or sliced and fried) containing some kind of vegetable and served with sauce and ground peanuts, otherwise mixed up with cucumber, pineapple, likely some kind of meat and various sauces. My curry rice sadly had to miss out on the curry part on account of me being vegetarian and the curry being made of chicken, but all in all was yummy. I felt like I needed to be rolled back to the motorcycle for the return trip.



Yesterday was my birthday, and that of a (new) friend here in Singapore (though sadly or gladly I am older by a few), which we celebrated with half of Grenoble at a sushi restaurant in a mall near City Hall. If any of this sounds surprising to you, it shouldn’t. French people plus sushi plus mall equals air conditioning, good food and a good test of my French. Anyways, for dessert we had….. chocolate cake! Which we consumed, ignoring the hint of wasabi and fish, with chopsticks. Welcome to Singapore, I suppose – east meets west.



The past few days have been the introduction to university life here. It’s called “shopping week”, which is where you go and have the syllabus introduced to you by the professor, after which students are free (and willing) to ask about five thousand questions relating to every possible detail and sentence of the syllabus. Apparently after this point you are supposed to drop the courses you don’t like, or else start to sign up for them – I’m not clear on the system, but I had to have my classes registered and approved weeks ago, and my last add-period expired last week. So I can just drop the stuff I hate and then beg administration to put me in another class, but it’s a small school and there are few choices (in a public policy school for someone who doesn’t study public policy, the options are particularly restricted). But I have four solid classes with nice and funny profs. One is a Singaporean woman of Malay origin who, thankfully, has a polisci background and is teaching courses on SE Asia in general and ethnic politics in specific. One professor is a beanpole of a man who speaks with exaggerated slowness, paces up and down the front like a caged tiger, and has a hilariously tangential way of talking that has the class in uproars. This is all the good news. The bad news is that I have a solid 8 inches of readings for the semester, of sufficient width to rival Genevan polycopiés and keep me “entertained” this semester.



Tonight we’re off to Palau Tioman, an island off the east coast of Malaysia. It’s known for its backpacker bungalows, gorgeous beaches, and good diving and swimming. It’ll be a trick to get there, requiring a bus and a ferry, both of whose timetables are followed by “departure times are approximate” and “the first ferry runs at 8:00, and after that when full”. But with the promise of two days of sunshine and beach and jungle (with monkeys!!), we are setting off in a small Franco-Germanophone pack. For once in my life I will speak ALL the languages available in our little group, though I wager we’ll be speaking English more than not.



So I’m off to the beach, beeches, and I’ll see you on Monday.