White Monkey

It has been a happening couple of weeks. I visited a library, spent way too much on clothes and ate bagels for the first time. I chose to give an insurance salesperson some of my time and got a cute cutlery set that perfectly fits my lunch bag. I realized how much I miss live music shows – after setting up so many of them for the last year – the sound monitors and the instrument mics and all that jazz. I was invited to go on a 2-3kms hike that slowly went up to 9.7 kms, which is way too much cardio for my fragile heart. Speaking of fragility, I was so starved about midway through the hike that I borrowed a Snickers bar (just like their ad) only to have a literal monkey at my feet. I chose to believe that my brain ran a quick decision tree where dropping the Snickers meant no food for me and an SGD 10k fine for feeding the monkey but hiding it in my pocket meant running the risk of having a monkey climb up my leg and bite me. In reality, my generous friend who gave me the snickers took it right back and hid it, so that I could stop screaming like a wuss. I have been told that if I were in India and moved that slow, the Snickers would have been snatched and half eaten – so yay for politeness in the Singaporean ape family.

I have been christened ‘white monkey’ by my 3rd standard science master, mostly for my calm and peaceful behavior during that age. My parents loved it so much they use it to this day to summon me. As I poorly peel and cut my own apple slices this Father’s Day, I miss my father and his nicknames for me. It is not every man from his generation who could raise two daughters with their highest success in mind – not a single achievement of mine would have been possible without his vision, faith, and support. We disagree, on simple things and bigger ones, but more often than not his wisdom gets proven right. As I struggle to manage the working woman life, I wonder how our parents balanced full time jobs (be it as a businessman, employee, or homemaker) and two far-from-graceful children.

In other news, I finally got to try Vietnamese Pho, but I couldn’t enjoy it as much as I had imagined after watching all those Buzzfeed Tasty videos. Reason being I was the only person who had come by themselves to the restaurant, full of (mostly Indian) couples. The one single guy at the entrance turned out to be just waiting for his partner too. I was starting to feel a little worried, until I heard a very Pyaar ka Punchnama-esque monologue from the table nearest to me and thanked my stars I could enjoy my vegetarian Pho in peace (after putting earphones on, of course). I realized that there must have been times when I came off just as annoying and wrote this one off as karma. The Pho itself reminded me of kanji from home, with a different carb, spice mix and vegetable set, but the same soothing feeling.

Many days have been tiring, saddening, difficult to process – culture shock, PMS, indigestion or whatever else it was. Yet, simple joys- like Sunday morning rain, binge-watching the new season of a teenage Netflix comedy, or just a really good, iced coffee, make it slightly better. My family celebrated big milestones like 25 years of being married or 20 years of being born, while I cried over bird droppings on my freshly laundered towel. But it’s okay, we persevere. Frankly, my daily challenges have transcended to becoming superficial ones, such as running out of Nutella. I use the Brooklyn Nine reference to Finding Nemo as my mantra – “Just keep swimming!”. Which reminds me I had planned on getting a swimmer’s body after moving here, and I am yet to buy a swimsuit. But hey, on the bright side, the Amy Santiago in me is very happy to have completed her monthly budget – even if it had way too many entries of Foodpanda on it. I can already picture Appa shaking his head, as he reads this.