I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

It was evening, probably about 8pm or so. I was down Liang Seah Street having dinner with a co-worker, probably griping about work, when I received a call on my cellphone. My first cellphone, to be precise. It was a tiny blue Nokia. I loved it.

It was my then-manager, and he sounded a little hassled. Where are you, he asks. Are you near the office? I say Yes. (What now, is what I’m really thinking.) Then he says a few words that I didn’t quite understand. I was to head back to the office to update the front page because he couldn’t get to a computer.

I hang up and my co-worker says, what is that?

“Ricki called. He says a plane flew into the World Trade Center in New York.” I was trying to make sense of what that meant, it seemed ridiculous. A plane flew into a building. Was it an accident? Is it the WTC in NY, really?

We didn’t really have it in us to finish dinner, I can’t really remember if we did, but my American co-worker sure seemed quite shaken.

We hurry back to the office – Wisma Alsagoff was steps away – and I update the front page with the news. None of the local news agencies had picked it up, but in the US – the news was a little scanty. I try my best, but it seemed surreal once more news trickles in. We turn the tv on, and hear about the second plane. That’s when some sort of frantic misery swept over me, but I probably neglected to even pay attention to my co-worker, who probably felt 100x more upset.

The next couple of days were a mess. And while it wasn’t an event that affected us directly, the sheer magnitude of what happened had to have affected everyone who could understand the magnitude of the loss that occurred that day.

And we continue to live with the fallout from that one day.

So yes, I remember. I remember who I was with. I remember what I was doing. I remember my friends reaction and anguish. I remember not knowing completely what happened till I got back to the office, and turned on the telly. I also remember looking at it like it was fiction. I remember only comprehending what had been done in the days after. Hearing the accounts, getting feedback from users who used our products to get in touch.

And I suppose it’s something you will never forget.

alternate dahlia

Yes, I threw letters out. Cards, notes, scrawny little gifts from inexperienced little boys, trinkets, toys, I threw a bunch out. I’m not going to try and suggest what you should or should not do with your belongings. I’m not going to make excuses. I’m going to tell you how I decided to do it.

It’d been years since I read those letters, looked at those trinkets. We’ve come a long way from then.

Are we the same girls? Perhaps.

Do I remember how I felt when I received those pieces of correspondence? Yes.

Do I feel it’s physical existence is a part of the large baggage I carry about in life? Yes.

Have things changed? Yes.

Will I get rid of it all one day? Perhaps, I’m not sure. I’d hope to be evolved enough about it. Evidently it’s just aspiration.

Aspiration to what? The belief that whatever we hold dear is always with us. And the physical manifestation, perhaps, is merely temporary, cold comfort.

all swirley inside

My niece finally got herself an email address. She’s been writing to me for about a month now, I got the first email a couple of weeks after I got back from Singapore.

It’s totally cute, cos she’s been trying out different fonts, background colours, sign-offs. She offers small snippets on the latest at home and school.

It totally takes me back more than 20 years – I used to write to my baby cousin. It was always a treat getting physical mail in the box. Alas my cousin is a baby no longer, she’s now a mother of a toddler, with another on the way. And yet I still lead a relatively low responsibility, low obligation life. I do enjoy a life lived untethered.

Later in school I used to correspond with a couple of friends by mail. Some of it still sit in boxes in my room at my parents. Unfortunately I did have to make a call and discard some, difficult as it might have been. Email, however, is a different creature. No one writes on email the way they do in a letter. Not really. For some reason, letters read more earnestly.

Maybe it’s just me. Or maybe there’s just a little more honesty when you put pen to paper. After all, it’s so much easier to backspace, ctrl-backspace your way to perfection.

I was not looking forward to my 17.5 hour plane ride back. I got sort of lucky because I called Singapore Airlines to change my flights, and the lady on the phone so nicely asked if I had a seat preference. So I was nice and set with an aisle seat for my return journey. What I didn’t expect was that she also put me in one of the frontmost rows – woo! That means I get on last and get off first! Super!

The first leg of the trip was nothing spectacular. I did eat a little because I miscalculated (as usual) the time I would get to Hong Kong and ended up super hungry on the plane. But dinner was gross so I attacked the crackers and cheese. To make matters worse, the layover in Hong Kong was only effectively 45 mins – despite me running off the plane as soon as I could and getting through security before the crowd. The gate was also a little further from the food court, so I skipped my meal and spent the time to Skype my folks instead. Thank you, free wifi from PCCW! Thank you for being fast and efficient!

A quick call to my folks – and my nephews and nieces came crashing into the screen. A quick greeting to all, and I gave them a quick look around HK Airport Gate 19 with my netbook. Got back into my seat finally, and found that my next seat companion had disembarked, and was not returning. Was left with a really chatty Uncle in the window seat. He mentions he’s Singaporean too, and we start a conversation. Soon I find out not only that he’s actively involved in the Singapore Club or something here. He was super chatty, and at some point volunteered to switch seats with me so I could be by the window. Ah, no thanks, Uncle. He then said he liked watching takeoff and landing. So I left him to enjoy it.

At some point I wanted to disengage and just sleep. I was trying to get at least 8 hours’ sleep on that leg of the flight. Just before dinner I put on a sleepy movie and tried to gradually stop chatting. After dinner I took a couple of sleeping tabs, and once they cleared the trays I got out and used the restroom. Then I was all set. I finished my movie (Nodame Cantabile in Europe – complete waste of time! It was a cliffhanger!!!), put my earplugs on, set my headphones over it to the classical channel and went to sleep.

What ensued was hours and hours of pretty good sleep. I managed to block out the crying babies, turbulence, and overall discomfort. My window seat neighbour, however, had no such luck. I have some vague recollection of having been woken temporarily because he needed to go to the restroom. I also vaguely recall a flight attendant assisting him in waking me, haha. I did mention I was a very sound sleeper. Turns out I slept for 10 hours, and was woken only when they gave out hot towels prior to breakfast. Man, my appetite for breakfast was good! And they served a chicken rice roll with siew mai. Only thing on any of my flights that I totally enjoyed. After my hearty breakfast my neighbour said he couldn’t sleep because the babies kept crying. He did look a little worse for wear. Haha.

The plane finally landed and as usual I got all ready to disembark quickly so I wouldn’t have to be behind all the ahlaus at immigration. I walk up to this sorta tall person walking on the travellator, and he turns around and says “oh I saw you”. And I’m thinking, I should think so, I’m right here. He clarifies to say he saw me on the flight from SF to SG – turns out he was on the same flight. Wow, odd chances, eh?

So I thought if I keep pace with the tall person I’d be making good time, and I did. But the line at immigration was already snaking its way to the counter. Tall guy and I joined the line, and we go through the paces. 15 minutes into it, I see some dude smiling and waving at me from behind the boundary tape. He might have been someone I worked with before, but at this point I was drawing up blanks, I gave him a puzzled look, and he said, “@@@ Monkey, right?” I’m thinking, am I wearing my monkey shirt today? I don’t get it? It doesn’t sound like something I worked on?

And he goes “@@@ Monkey! I was sitting across from you when you spoke to your family in Hong Kong”. Ahh. It was what I called my niece. He said it was pretty funny and he remembered. Later on he also asked if it was my sister I was speaking to. HAHA!

For the record, the immigration officer also thought I didn’t look my age, so all in all it was a good flight, even though it took an hour to get past immigration and to get my luggage.

I didn’t get out of the airport till a little past 9pm, and we headed straight for In-N-Out burger.

All in all an ok-enough flight. Looks like a couple of sleepers are the way to go.

Today I found something interesting in a friend’s blogroll. Aptly named I eat. I shoot. I post. it didn’t take too much for my curiosity to be piqued.

Boy was it a stupid idea.

What ensued was a very well kept blog of a Singaporean foodie. We already have the reputation of photographing and writing about food religiously, and this blog does nothing if not reinforce that notion. We’re going to have to work really hard at changing the global perception that we’re a tropical island full of ass-whipping foodaholics, with no tolerance for chewing gum. Oh and that food photography is a national past-time.

It would be absolutely delightful if I could just nip out right away and try something in the blog. He’s got a nice section on BCM that I’m quite enthusiastic about. However. Reality is a cold bitch. In the reality I live in, where instant gratification is the order du jour, and I get the shoes I ordered online within two days (hehehe!), patience isn’t exactly a virtue I’ve honed.

Restraint I practice often, and it’s that which keeps me from a) trying out the local Singaporean fare in California and getting my heart broken; repeatedly b) flying back every 2 weeks’ when the munchies catch up with me.

So how bad an idea was it? Let’s just say I started salivating uncontrollably, and in desperation at 11.30pm, I settled for a bowl of 出前一丁 in Chicken which, thankfully, was pretty close to my favourite Myojo which isn’t available here. Score!

It’s been an hour since I wolfed that bowl of noodles and that egg I poached so perfectly in the soup. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I’m telling myself it’s what I needed. I was hungry!

Anyway. A picture to take my mind off food.

Winter in San Francisco can be so pleasant!

We’ve recently rediscovered the library. You know. That place with lots of books, cold-as-ice glares when you sneeze and musty shelves of heavy-as-heck hardcovers in pristine condition. Apparently people went there for information. You know. Back in the dark ages. As recently as the late 1990s.

I think. I can’t be sure. Me and libraries, well. We didn’t have too much fun together. I think it began one day, in primary 3 or 4. I forget. Anyway, I went to the primary school library to return a book. The teacher there said there was one more book I hadn’t returned. I was stunned, it can’t be. I didn’t have any other books in my bag. I didn’t leave any at home. She turned me away and walked off.

My buddy at that time, and I still remember her name, which is no mean feat, because I haven’t spoken to her in more than 20 years – she transferred to I have no idea where at the end of the year – took the loaner card out of my sleeve and gave it to me. “Go” she said, looking around.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I took it and left. It turned out to be the card for the book that I was supposed to have loaned. The title seemed familiar, but I thought I’d returned it a few days ago. I was super perplexed, and the way my friend tried to help me out made me feel like a criminal.

A few days later, a younger schoolmate I took the schoolbus with gave me the book that was missing. She said she took it from my bag to read while we were waiting for the bus.

But it was done. I avoided the library like the plague, and I stopped being nice to the younger students. They were nothing but trouble!

Anyway. The Patron Saint of Libraries here did a number on me, I guess. The number happens to be 50. I get to check out 50 books for 3 weeks. I also get to check out 10 DVDs/CDs/VCDs a week.

What liberation! We started out borrowing documentaries. Since it beats reading! We quickly went through the stuff of interest. Now we’re borrowing j-doramas. I’m even making plans to hit the other libraries in the vicinity when we exhaust the little one near us.

The strange thing I notice is this. The people at libraries, are old. They are generally older than me. Old ladies, retiree looking folks, middle aged folks. I feel young in SF libraries. I don’t know if it’s the sign of the times – kids use the internet, I suppose – or location, time of day, etc. I would’ve figured more kids around since it is next to a school. But it’s fine. Kids smell funny anyway.

Old school, it seems, can sometimes be enriching too.

I thought I’d wind down social engagements this week, but despite that, it was still hectic. I managed to spend some time with the family – had lunch with the brother and folks at Tiong Bahru Market for the first time, despite living nearby for so long while I was here, and painted Chinatown red with my folks. Today we went to Sentosa again.

One of the tasks I needed to complete while I was back this time was to renew my passport. I heard that it was a pretty straightforward exercise, and it would only take a week. They were wrong.

It took less than that.

It was such an easy, efficient and pleasant experience, I am totally impressed. Probably with the process. So here’s how it went.

Last Friday, 20 Feb, after uhming and awwing, I check out the ICA website for information on renewing my passport. There is a web-application option (APPLES). It costs $10 less than doing it at the ICA. You’ll need to submit your passport photo online. They provide the specs in detail. Totally cool.

I set up my gorillapod, put on a nice top, and take a couple of photos. I picked one that’d work, and had to correct the white balance, levels and crop the picture to spec. That took longer than the actual passport application process.

After I submit the photo – I had to pay for the passport. That was the bit that was a little iffy, because it required a new version of JRE that I didn’t have. As a result, I had to abandon the process and start a new one, because hitting “Back” doesn’t screws the system up. But anyway. I found it a little odd that they didn’t ask for my address in the submission form, just a mobile number and email, along with other identification details. But I thought, since I’m doing this online, perhaps it was the expected behaviour to complete the process completely electronically. So I didn’t put much more thought into it.

ICA website states it takes about 3-4 days to process. So I figured, perhaps they were right, processing + actual passport creation = 7 days or so. I figured they’d contact me the following Friday, and I could pick it up the week after. Not too shabby.

On Tuesday Feb 24, 3 working days after submission, I received an email from ICA saying my passport was ready for collection the next day. If I make an appointment, it would probably cut down the waiting time. They include a link to make an appointment with the email. I set the appointment for Friday, 27 Feb at 1.15pm.

On Wednesday Feb 25, we checked the letterbox. Received snail mail from ICA saying my passport is ready, please bring this mail along at collection. Gee, they must’ve gotten my address from my IC number! Putting two and two together, I decided to bring everything – whatever that was mentioned in the email, along with the physical snail mail notification to the ICA to collect my passport.

When I got the to ICA, signs indicated collection on the second level. I saw a few machines that were giving out queue numbers, as well as an information desk. I wanted to head to information because I was half an hour early for my appointed time, but since there was no one at the queue number machine but people at the information booth, I got a queue number first. Turns out that was where the snail mail notification was useful. There was a barcode that the machine read, and identified me instantly and gave me a number.

Queue number in hand, I ask the lady at the booth if it was ok that I was half an hour early for my appointment. Could I get my passport sooner? She said, no problem. And was going to get me a queue number when she saw I had one. She said, it’s ok. The system knows I’m early, but no matter. They’ll call when they’re ready, and even though it seems like there are 122 numbers in front of me, I won’t be called in that order. That’s nice, I thought. I found a seat, sat down, saw a moving ad about finding out my wait time by SMSing my queue number to a phone number and was about to hit “send” when my number flashed on the board. It took all of 6 minutes.

The nice lady at the counter greeted me, asked for my IC and old passport (which she punched holes in), took my thumbprint and signature, and I was done. I spent 10 minutes in total in the building. It was quick, pleasant and the counter service was excellent. I really enjoyed it!

I mean, they had all the information in a database to the point that they knew from me scanning a barcode who I was, which passport I was picking up, that I was early for my appointment (it showed my appointment time on the queue number chit), but the system was still smart enough to schedule me in without me having to wait for my appointed slot. Some thought must really have gone into the whole process planning. Very well done, ICA!

There are a few things that they could do to perfect the entire flow:

• Integrate the payment portion better – make the flow more like the Amazon experience – it’s familiar, it flows well. Right now you’ve to leave the ICA site to complete payment. That’s sort of iffy, not to mention suspicious. The whole JRE installation portion is screwed up. It’s circular, and if it would’ve been daunting to an internet novice.
• Be consistent with the messages via email and snail mail. In the email (which is received earlier) they should state clearly that the citizen should expect to receive physical notification that the passport was ready, and to bring that, along with the expiring passport and IC (these two were mentioned specifically though) when picking up the passport.
  In the snail mail notification, it gave the address of the ICA along with a message to collect the passport after 25 Feb. There was no mention of making an appointment to save time (and corresponding URL) or to bring the old passport and IC.
• Set expectations on how the process should work. I found out only at the ICA building that I should get a queue number, and that I should flash my IC or snail mail notification barcode to get the queue number. That could be communicated on both email and snail mail, instead of having the counter staff communicate it repetitively. Because thats where everyone would head to, since there’s doubt.
• Fix the appointment scheduler – this is a minor detail, but it really bugged me. The appointment scheduler is a shared application. However, on Firefox (I didn’t test on the other browsers) when it came to the page that displayed a physical calendar in squares, I had no clue each square was clickable. Usually anything clickable changes colour when you mouse over, or displays a link (something underlined). I had to double-click (?! who does that on a web page?!?!!) on a date-square to be given timing options to choose from. Describing that process as “not very intuitive” is an understatement. That expected behaviour is not realistic. There weren’t even clear instructions on the page, and that’s totally unacceptable. It’s an easy fix, so fix that first.

All in all though, I’m proud of the job they’ve done. This is how a first world country should work! But not all first countries function this efficiently. Anyone working there should also be proud of the level and standard of service that the ICA provides.

A week on the island later, I’ve fixed my bad eyesight and have met up with a bunch of friends. Made all the deliveries I needed to make, and just need a visit to the dentist and passport office.

I also managed to get myself into a secondary school reunion. The wonders of the innernet. I’ve not met a lot of these folks since we left school at 16, so the curious cat in me is kaypoh to find out how everyone’s doing. On the other hand, the antisocial in me would rather find out in a more passive way – like on Flickr. Guess we can’t all have our cake and eat it too.