The world news is all about rising food and oil prices around the globe at the moment. Different countries have tackled this problem in different ways. In Indonesia, for example, the price of petrol is rising by 30% but the government will be handing cash to low-income families to temporarily offset the increase. Malaysia already has subsidies for staple goods (there is export control on Singaporeans swarming into Malaysia to buy up cooking oil, flour and sugar cheap before heading back across the Causeway), and is looking at measures to lift petrol subsidies for foreign-registered (i.e. mostly Singaporean, nyuk nyuk) cars.

Well, of course, Singapore wasn’t about to take this lying down. So, on 27 May, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew made a speech about how subsidies (”like welfare systems in Europe”; notice there’s not even a sly allusion to Malaysia) have lowered incentives for their citizens to strive and excel. In other words, where there’s government intervention to help the average citizen, the average citizen becomes lazy and stupid, thus leading to the downfall of Western civilisation.

Answering the complaints of Singaporeans that food and transport costs in the island state should be subsidised, LKY’s counter is that Singapore must instead produce positive economic growth year after year. If you’re wondering how one answers the other, LKY explains that if Singapore produces positive economic growth each year, then Singaporeans will have more incentive to work hard (not like those lazy MalaysiansEuropeans), and will thus earn enough money to pay market prices for food! It’s a wonder the man’s genius isn’t appreciated outside Singapore, he has such a complete grip on global socioeconomics.

A direct quote from LKY: “When everybody knows the cost of what he consumes or uses, he will spend his money more to his benefit.” Isn’t it lovely? I want that one on a t-shirt as well.

Now, here’s the thing. The Singapore government believes that it can guarantee economic growth through population influx. Thus, it is thinking of increasing the population of Singapore by approximately 2 million people over the next decade. All this will do, however, will be to increase the domestic economic figure, or GDP. It will do exactly squat to affect the international economic figures, which is what is driving such things as the cost of groceries and oil.

The Singaporean government, while aware that it has no natural resources or solid manufacturing base to speak of, refuses to concede that this puts it in a vulnerable economic situation, hence the obsession to bring in more and more workers in an effort to spin greater economic prosperity. The fact that it hasn’t helped so far with sharply rising grocery and oil prices is only emphasised by one of Mr Wang’s posts, where he mentions that, for the year 2007, Singapore’s budget had a surplus of $6.45 billion.

So, according to the Singapore government, if you have an annual surplus in excess of $6 billion, no subsidies, and rising basic costs, then the solution is to bring in more people! Elementary, my dear Lee, elementary.

I had my name day recently. As a family, we’re always on the lookout for celebratory days of one sort or another. It became a bit of a running joke at work, where my co-workers would always ask what we were celebrating that week. My reasoning was that, for the price of one $2,000 plasma TV, I could afford to buy cakes and have a celebration at home or picnic outside once every two weeks for a year and a half.

So, anyway, when the time came to decide how the family should celebrate my name day, I didn’t hesitate. In this part of the world, there is no substitute. High tea.

I adore high teas, and have missed them dreadfully as I’ve travelled away from south-east Asia. It’s an Asian twist on the English afternoon tea, with an entire buffet laid out across a range of cuisines, from savoury to sweet. The Rose Veranda is a restaurant at The Shangri-La Hotel that holds a daily high tea, with two afternoon sittings on weekends. The ambience is lovely, with comfortable armchairs, low tables and full-length glass windows looking out on, er, well, other buildings mostly. This is high-density Singapore after all.

Foodwise, there were curries (mutton, vegetable, Thai fish, chicken), briyani rice, a variety of sandwiches, curry laksa with noodles, Thai salads, western salads, Indonesian stuffed hors d’oeuvres, fresh spring rolls, sushi and salmon sashimi, fresh bread rolls, a variety of cheeses, baked potatoes, crab cakes, quiche, and a small carvery station. For dessert, we could have strawberries and marshmallows in a chocolate fondue, handmade chocolates, cookies, a couple of cheesecakes, chocolate truffle cake, bread & butter pudding with custard, filled crepes, tiramisu, scones, vodka jellies with redcurrants, and fruit tarts, as well as a couple of other choices I forget.

The idea is that you pays your money and takes your choice. For 6 hours (weekdays) / 3 hours (weekends) you fit in as much to’ing and fro’ing as you can, accompanied by a teapot of one of 100 types of tea available. It is absolutely decadent and entirely irresistible. It’s also not cheap. We got barely any change from SG$200 (US$150 / EUR95), but I figured it this way. If J and I had decided to treat ourselves to a top-flight dinner for two somewhere, we wouldn’t have been able to get away without dropping around SG$150. For only $50 more, we had a family event for three adults and two children that the kids (and J’s mum) really loved and will remember.

Because I’m such a nitpicker, I have to admit that the High Tea wasn’t perfect. The service slacked off after the first hour. (We couldn’t get a refill of our water glasses for love nor money. Later on, I read on a board that the Shangri-La was supposed to offer free-flow tea, but that wasn’t evident either.) The delicious looking chicken from the carvery was seasoned heavily with five spice powder which, while loved by Chinese, tasted more like medicine to all of us at the table. A couple of chicken choices would have gone down better. Some of the food took too long to be replenished. When the delectable Brie and smooth blue-vein was finished from the cheese platter, they were replaced by a substandard cheddar type. The quiche was tasteless. The bloodline was left on the salmon sashimi, instead of being trimmed away. The price of ‘extras’ was breathtakingly extortionate. (SG$11 for an orange juice?!!) And the idea of having hot dessert plates to hold things like chilled cheesecake and handmade chocolates was pretty stupid.

We left before the end of the session and took a walk around the hotel before waddling home. The hotel itself is very opulent and the food there is good (this is my second visit to two different restaurants at the Shangri-La), but there are unmistakable signs of tiredness in the frayed furniture, and the clumsy way many fittings have been installed. Away from the main, and impressive, foyer, the air is musty, indicating carpets that are well past their use-by date.

High Tea at the Rose Veranda, Shangri-La Hotel Singapore: 7 out of 10.

I haven’t written about Singapore for a while. Which is a shame, because I live here for the moment. So here’s a Singapore post! The CIA’s World Factbook says, in part, that (cue harp music and release the doves):

Singapore has a highly developed and successful free-market economy. It enjoys a remarkably open and corruption-free environment, stable prices, and a per capita GDP equal to that of the four largest West European countries.

Okay, let’s take the first bit, the “successful free-market economy”. Free-market means no government interference, right? “In a market economy, businesses and consumers decide of their own volition what they will purchase and produce, and in which decisions about the allocation of those resources are without government intervention [my emphasis]“, to quote Wikipedia. (As long as we’re not discussing the sexual peccadilloes of various First, Second, and Third World dictators, I think it’s okay to use the W. Yes, yes, I admit being lazy. Let’s just go with this one, okay?)

But if Singapore is so remarkably free-market, then why does the University of Liverpool, to use one of many examples, have this to say in the unrestricted portion of an article on Singapore entitled Singapore Inc. versus the private sector: are government-linked companies different?:

As part of its postindependence industrialization plan, the Singapore government assumed a proactive entrepreneurial role by establishing state enterprises (called government-linked companies, or GLCs) in key sectors such as manufacturing, finance, trading, transportation, shipbuilding, and services.

[ed: Interestingly enough, according to the CIA Factbook, Singapore's economy depends on -- can you guess? -- electronics, chemicals, financial services, oil drilling equipment, petroleum refining, rubber processing and rubber products, processed food and beverages, ship repair, offshore platform construction, life sciences, entrepot trade. Hmmm, is that a GLC bulge in your government portfolio, or are you just trying to impress me?]

Oops. Sorry to interrupt, UoL. Please continue:

In this respect, Singapore was different from Hong Kong SAR, whose economic growth was driven by private enterprises [ed: that's big, bad China we're talking about, btw], and other East Asian economies like Japan, Taiwan Province of China, and the Republic of Korea, where active industrial policy did not involve widespread government … [ed: um, intervention? interference? injections of humongous amounts of cash? Something like that, I'm sure. What a terrible place to cut the freebie abstract!]

So, okay, I get “highly developed”, and I’ll give a big tick for “successful”. But “free-market”? Now, I’m sure that the CIA never ever intends to ever deceive a soul about anything, but, nah, free-market it ain’t.

Let’s move on to the “remarkably open and corruption-free environment”. And juxtapose it with a short article from a local newspaper, imaginatively called “The New Paper” from 02-April-2008. Namely,

Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong [ed: the son of Singapore's first PM, Lee Kwan Yuew (LKY)], 56, says he is seeking a successor to take over his position [ed: that is, Prime Minister, just in case you missed it] before he reaches age 70. The political talent will [now be] aged 30 or early 40s.

Yep, nothing closed and corrupted about having a Prime Minister (who was himself chosen by this father) choosing his own successor 14 or so years into the future! Sounds remarkably like a solid foundation for democracy, doesn’t it? Just like creating a brand-new position called “Minister Mentor” for LKY after he retired, so that he can still wield incredible influence over government machinations.

Can’t say I blame the guy, in a way … we all know about our children running off the rails, don’t we? How can you trust them? All we can do is ground the little sweethearts, whereas LKY can get an entire country’s government to create a sinecure for himself so he can make and break entire lives and keep his PM son in line. Man, wish I had something like that for the next time The Wast argues with me over something! What power! And, knowing me as well as you do, you just know that I wouldn’t do anything to misuse it, don’t you?

Also along the “open and corruption-free” line, there is nothing undemocratic or closed from the, admittedly anecdotal, grumbles of non-Chinese executives who agree that there really is no glass ceiling in the country … as long as you can converse in fluent Mandarin, with the appropriate family name, at the final interview. ::rimshot::

And you lot think economics and politics are boring? Pshaw!

POSTSCRIPT: Just to show that two people can read the same article and take entirely different points away from it, here’s Mr Wang’s perspective on the Prime Ministership succession issue.

We’ve recently moved our kids from the international school to one of the local ones. We did this for various reasons, including my dissatisfaction with the teaching qualifications (or lack thereof) of international school teachers, what I perceive to be a wishy-washy IBO curriculum framework, and lack of basic grounding in maths. I’ll be honest and say that our decision is not a common one, but both J and I are the result of strict schooling systems and, being hard science graduates, we value maths ability and literacy above all. Some may say we’re too obsessed about that, and they may be right, but that’s the way we are.

Anyway, the first parent-teacher meeting came up recently, and we attended it, and might I say right here that I get immense amusement and enjoyment out of interacting with the school prefects. Whenever there’s a meeting on, you’ll find the school buzzing with prefects, wearing their prefect sashes. You are always given a card or ticket or slip of some kind prior to the meeting and this is what the procedure generally entails:

As you walk through the school gates, the guards will wave you through with a cheerful word of greeting. After all, they’ve seen you come and go for the past few months. You wave back and walk through, ticket in hand. Now imagine you come to a long straight corridor, with a flashing sign reading “HERE!” at the far end. Imagine six older children spaced along this corridor, each asking to see your ticket, then directing you further along the same corridor. Imagine there is no other way to go along this corridor, except back the way you came, or onward to the flashing neon sign. Welcome to the role of prefects at a Singapore primary school parents’ meeting.

Next time, I’m going to throw a spaniard into the works(*) by looking puzzled and saying earnestly, “Are you sure? But someone told me I had to turn left here.” They’ll look serious, call a colleague over to adjudicate, have a hurried discussion, then just wave me along, and consider it a job well done. As Harry Harrison would say, it’s a win for all parties concerned — the prefects get to feel like they’ve averted a national disaster by guiding a greying woman along the right path, a post-event retelling will convince teachers of the utility of having prefects around, and I get secret amusement by watching the aching sincerity in their actions.

And J got caught out recently when ordering a coffee from his local beverage bar. There’s nothing we like more than watching B grade movies and yelling things at the screen. “No, don’t go in there!” or “Switch the light on, switch the light on!” and making gurgling and crunching sounds when someone gets crushed or eaten. B grade horrors are our favourite, and the kids bring all their pillows from their bedroom and form little enclosures on the sofa so they can hide behind them when something scary happens. It’s a fun night for all the family.

Well, anyway, J was waiting for his morning dose of Nepalese masala spicy coffee (I’m not kidding you), and watching the TV just near the bar, and he told me there was an absolutely great show on, with a Chinese group of paranormal investigators (he thought), and a giant snake rampaging through the city, eating everyone in its path. Doesn’t it sound like fun? Unfortunately, he was in “family B grade movie night” mode, which meant that when the snake happened upon an hysterical woman, he told her to run, and then made the obligatory sounds of sympathy when the snake got her. It was then he realised that he was now the focus of a dozen pairs of bemused eyes. “I forgot you weren’t with me,” he told me later.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Just smiled at them, collected my coffee, and continued on to work.”

And that’s how you make some fun in Singapore.

EDIT: (*) Yes, I know the term is really “spanner in the works”. I’m quoting from one of John Lennon’s books. Yep, he wrote a couple, and even illustrated them himself.

So it seems that Tata Motors have decided to roll out compressed-air cars (using technology from Moteur Development International, based on the ideas of Frenchman Guy Negre) this year (summer 2008) in several countries (France, Spain and India). I’ve got a picture of several models here that I purloined from the Popular Mechanics site. Voici pour vous:

Don’t you want to just rush out and get one now? But first, the details:

• 90 cubic metres of compressed air drive the engine’s pistons. Atmospheric temperature is used to increase the engine’s efficiency, and the cold exhaust air is used for air-conditioning.
• Refilling the air tank is estimated to take 2-3 minutes at specially designed “bowsers”. Cost of one tank is EUR1,50 == USD2.30 (and rising) == SGD3.20. Range of one tank is approximately 200-300km == 124-186mi.
• Maximum speed is around 68mph == 109kph.
• To boost performance, a liquid fuel component can also be added (petrol, biodiesel, diesel), turning the vehicle into a hybrid
• The engine also uses one litre of vegetable oil, with a change recommended every 50,000km.
• The body is made of fibreglass over a tubular chassis. There are no keys, just an access card that can be read as you approach the vehicle.

For further details, go to Impact Lab for a nice wrap-up. Oh, and it looks like the car will be released in the USA next year, with an expected price of around USD17,800 (and rising … have you looked at the US currency exchange rates lately?). Already there are naysayers. Some commenters mention that Guy Negre has been trying to get this technology to work for more than a decade, so what makes anyone think it’s actually viable? Others worry about corrosion in the air-tank. And others still are sceptical of a publicised vehicle range of more than 100km.

Me, I’m worried about safety. If you want to see what happens when you put driving licenses in the hands of essentially clueless people living according to some ancient cultural trope that the richer you are, the more you’re entitled to do whatever the damn hell you want without a single thought to anyone else, come to south-east Asia. Here, you will see Mercedes drivers, obviously in cars too big for them to handle, attempt a u-turn and somehow, amazingly, end up blocking traffic going in both directions. (They often start their turn from the far lane, you see.) Here, too, you will see people in cars sweep blithely by, while pedestrians remain standing at a crossing in the pouring rain, because they have a nice car and you’re just a walking peasant, so guess what you can do with your attempt to cross the road, never mind the thick white stripes on the bitumen and the fact you and your shopping are a sodden mess on the footpath? And I have never seen so many people take so many attempts to reverse park. Honest, I watched one woman try for 15 solid minutes, before she just backed a wheel onto the curb, locked up the car and went shopping. As I said to J, I was soooo tempted to walk up to her and demand her keys just so I could park the damn car myself, and put myself out of my misery. (Yes, believe it or not, I like parallel parking. I consider it a mathematical problem, each one unique. “Can I use my experience from the last park to negotiate this one? Or is there something I need to vary, taking into account the length of the car and length of the space?” Seriously, I really am that boring.)

So, getting back to the issue at hand, I’m a bit leery with taking a fibreglass car out on the road in these here locales. (And if anyone from India would like to comment on the state of driving there, I’m all ears.) You have small cars that the big cars ignore, the big cars driven mostly by incompetents, the scooters and bikes that whizz in and out of traffic like they’re off on some giant swarming exercise, the buses that know only two speeds, the large vans with their trays often filled with manual labourers on their way to or from work, the delivery trucks, the container trucks. And that’s before you even confront the drivers who can’t even stick to their half of the road, much less remain in their own lanes; the other drivers who think that as they’re driving a Mercedes/Audi/Volvo, they’ll survive an accident, so who cares about anyone else; the truck drivers who like nothing more than overtaking slow traffic on blind curves (this is a national pastime in Malaysia); and so on.

Thus, upon sober reflection, I probably won’t be buying one of those cars anytime soon. But god, how I’d love to.

I was flicking through a recent issue of Wired magazine and noted that one of their coolest geek toys was a standalone tabletop induction cooktop panel that you could pick up for a mere US$1400. Induction cooking is very cool. You can turn on the hotplate and put your hand on it and, as long as you’re not wearing iron-based jewellery (I wasn’t going to chance it while wearing my wedding band, tbh), the plate will feel cool. Yet, put a saucepan of cold water on the same plate and it will boil within 30 seconds. I remember a vivid ad which showed an egg, half on the induction hotplate, the other half in a cross-sectioned saucepan. The half in the saucepan was frying nicely while the half that was slopped on the hotplate remained raw. This side-effect (the hotplate not the saucepan) has the further advantage of being easy to clean because no food ‘cooks’ on the hotplate, and I’m all for lazy cooking.

The way induction works has to do with magnetic fields and electrical resistance, so I won’t go through it here. (I know, I really am restraining myself! Aargh, losing battle … electricity is used to set up a magnetic field which causes heat due to resistance within the non-pure base of the iron-based saucepan. And that’s all I’m saying.) However, I will show you our cooktop.

Isn’t it a beauty? How could we not buy one? It even lights up with flashing blue LEDs when the power is on and I’m a sucker for flashing blue LEDs. Akira is a local Singapore brand, which explains why it was cheaper than the usual Japanese imports. During the Chinese New Year sale at a local Carrefour store, we paid SG$109 for it. And included with the hob was a saucepan with glass lid. That works out to about US$76 or EUR52 for the set. And the speed of cooking is blinding, much faster even than gas. So fast, in fact, that prep work is essential.

Of course there’s always a downside: my earthenware pots — not containing any iron — can’t be used with induction cooking, and neither can my Pyrex dishes. And the hotplate has questionable value for a wok. Also, aluminium/aluminum pans can’t be used either. This is not a problem for us, because most of our cookware is cast-iron or the heavy-bottomed steel-copper type, but it may be a problem for you, so check your cookware and review your cooking habits first if you’re thinking of investing in this energy-efficient über-cool gadget.

When we finally move to a place of our own, I’ll be bugging J for an induction/gas hybrid cooktop. But I don’t think I’ll have to do too much persuading because he’s sold on it too. And did I tell you that, because of its energy efficiency, the electricity bills will be lower? Win-win for safety, clean-up and money. And that’s exactly the way I like it.

UPDATE: In the interests of good science, I put my wedding-band hand on a working induction plate set to boil water. Y’know, there’s always that conflict between rationality (my wedding ring is gold, which should not contain any iron compounds, therefore it will not heat up) versus emotion (put my hand on a hotplate that can boil water in less than 30 seconds?! Are you crazy?!). I’m happy to report that my hand, and ring, survived intact. Ah, the things I do for my readers.

FURTHER WARNING: While the hotplate remains cool until something iron-based is put on it, the plate retains the heat of the saucepan after it’s done. While heat dissipation is quick, the plate is hot after cooking. Or, to put it another way, if you don’t believe me and want to try the hand-on-the-hotplate trick for yourself, do it before you begin cooking, not after, or you may get a nasty burn.

There was a bit of a tempest in Singapore recently, with some anonymous Internet poster threatening to print the identity details of all/many foreign workers in Singapore. This is the result of common resentment in this country, where foreign workers are reviled because they take jobs from Singaporeans. It doesn’t matter that it’s the government that sets policy, the average Singaporean — bereft of many liberties — strikes out at the first person s/he sees, and that is the foreigner.

The identity details that were printed however were interesting. They included the name, place of birth, identity numbers, birthdate and current address of the foreigner. And, also interestingly, only Asian (non-white) foreigners were targetted, thus indicating a lack of … what’s the word? ah yes … balls on the part of the poster.

I didn’t take much notice, because the kind of information posted is the kind that every sales clerk in the country is privy to. It seems that you can’t even pay for something in Singapore without having to produce your passport, and who knows how many databases all this information is being written to? This was brought especially home to me when I was filling out the warranty form for a small appliance we’d bought and it asked for my identification number. I mean, what are the chances of another KS Augustin fradulently taking her broken Brand X kettle to the manufacturer to get it fixed? Am I expected to have my passport examined and photocopied ad nauseam just to get an element exchanged under warranty? … Well, yes, I suppose I am.

Lest you be sitting there and chortling at my misfortune, I’d like to direct you to a recent article in The Register. In a nutshell, British banks are rolling out a new type of RFID-enabled card (backed by Visa and Mastercard) called Paywave, that will not require authorisation for any transactions less than GBP10. Now, here’s a question for the class — how many people think that’s a bad idea? As you can see, my hand is up.

Information on items that use RFID technology are notoriously easy to pick up (that’s the whole idea) and the usual so-called encryption algorithms used by companies/the government are notoriously easy to crack. So, to bring this down to the level of reality, there is nothing stopping some grey/black hat from sitting on a bench somewhere, accessing your card from metres away and throwing a couple of GBP9.99 transactions on it. Of course, that’s just peanuts to the committed cracker. If the encryption codes can be cracked, then there are hundreds of identities swarming around that bench every hour, beaming their information into the ether, just waiting to be exploited, leaving the hapless victim with decades of frustration and angst in an effort to clear up his/her affairs after an attack of identity theft. I know of this to a lesser extent, because someone I knew was burgled (pre-internet banking days) and, more than 20 years later, he is still trying to clear his name and prove he didn’t defraud various businesses to the tune of thousands of dollars. Nowadays, you don’t even have to physically touch a possession of your victim’s … you just pluck the intel from the air.

Here’s the thing I can’t understand. Presumably, the world has become a more dangerous place. Yet every major institution, from governments to banks to retail shops, are coming up with more and more insecure ways of throwing our identity around. Whether we’re talking about easily-cracked technologies, or giving every untrained, security-unconscious clerk and his/her dog the ability to openly photocopy and transcribe your personal information, the ‘initiatives’ from these major institutions open the door to widescale identity abuse, not close them.

Which brings up an interesting question. Assuming that: (a) the world has become more dangerous, and (b) the institutions that have told us this are also making our identities less secure, what is the end goal in cases of inevitable infraction? Will justice be served … or will a judicious serve of scapegoating suffice? Hmmmmm …

So you’ve read about our international travel glamour. Well, here’s our local tale, plus a story that’s currently making the rounds. A couple of weeks ago, we had a bright idea. We needed to stop at a couple of places in Singapore and thought we had figured out the best way to do it. First, grocery shopping. Then, on the way down to the next destination, we’d stop at our local station and J would trudge home with the shopping, put everything away, then come back, while I waited at the station platform with the kids.

We considered it a win-win. The kids wouldn’t get so hot and tired (and did I mention grumpy?) walking in the midday tropical sun, J moves quicker by himself, and I sit down in some shade, people-watch, and work out some plot points in my head.

When J finally got back, we headed to our next stop and things were going swimmingly, until we tried to exit the station. OVERSTAY, the exit station said. Wha-?! No! So we walked to the Customer Service desk and it was explained to us.

The Singapore government, in their wisdom, has designated a maximum of 20 minutes travel time between 3 stops. This extends to 30 minutes between 4 stops, and so on. And we had busted that maximum. The penalty is SG$2 for each passenger. Little Dinosaur is on a child’s pass, and usually pays half price, but she got the $2 penalty as well. So a bright idea of ours ended up costing us $6. We would have been better off sitting at the local McDonald’s sipping iced lemon tea.

I suppose it’s to stop loitering. Ask any tourist and they’ll tell you that all Singapore train stations are frighteningly barren after a train leaves. But it’s also an indication of the general way the government treats its people. There’s a stick-and-stick approach that Singapore takes, to a limit that no other Western-style government seems to. (Although, with the legislative door open thanks to the War on Terror, that’s changing.)

It’s part of the political/administrative culture here, a pervasive patronising paternalism that sees foreigners banned from something as silly and entertaining as the Complaints Choir–a bunch of people living in Singapore who sing about what’s wrong with the city-state–because it touches on “domestic affairs”. The video at Asian Offbeat is a bit difficult to understand, so here are the lyrics:

We get fined for almost everything / Drivers won’t ‘give chance’ when you want to ‘change lane’ / The indoors are cold, the outdoors are hot; / And the humid air, it wrecks my hair / Those answering machines always make you hold / Only to hang up on you

When a pregnant lady gets on the train / Everyone pretends to be asleep / I’m stuck with my parents till I’m 35 / Cause I can’t apply for HDB /
We don’t recycle any plastic bags / But we purify our pee

*chorus:
What’s wrong with Singapore? / Losing always makes me feel so sore / Cause if you’re not the best / Then you’re just one of the rest

My oh my Singapore / What exactly are we voting for? / What’s not expressly permitted / is prohibited

When I’m hungry at the food court, I see / People ‘chope’ seats with their tissue paper / To the aunty staying upstairs: / Your laundry’s dripping on my bed sheets / Please don’t squat on the toilet seats / And don’t clip your nails on MRT

Stray cats get into noisy affairs / At night my neighbor makes weird animal sounds / People put on fake accents to sound posh / And queue up 3 hours for donuts / Will I ever live till eighty five / to collect my CPF?

*chorus

Singaporeans too kiasu! (so scared to lose) / Singaporeans too kiasi! (so scared to die) / Singaporeans too kiabor!(scared of their wives) / Maybe we’re just too stressed out! (even the kids)

Old National Library was replaced by an ugly tunnel / Singaporean men can’t take independent women / People blow their nose into the swimming pool / And fall asleep on my shoulder in the train

Singapore’s national bird is the crane (the one with yellow steel girders) / Real estate agents’ leaflets clogging up my mailbox (en bloc, en bloc; en bloc, en bloc) / Why can’t we be buried when we die? / No one wants to climb Bukit Timah with me

*chorus

There are not enough public holidays / My neighbor sings KTV all night / Wedding dinners never start on time / My hair is always cut shorter than I want / Channel 5 commercials are way too long / Why do men turn bad?

*At first it was to speak more mandarin / Then it was to speak proper English / What’s wrong with my powerful Singlish?

People sit down during rock concerts / We have to pay for tap water at restaurants / ERP gantries are everywhere / But I can still see traffic jams on the road / All the bus stops have tilted benches to keep you off balance

*chorus

As you can see, once the writers of the lyrics got going, they really built up a head of steam. But at the foundation is a government attitude best typified by Singapore’s Minister Mentor and founder of the state of Singapore, Lee Kuan Yew (incidentally, his son is Prime Minister; make of that what you will), saying this about Singapore’s lack of press freedom (they ranked below Zimbabwe in the 2006 Reporters Without Borders annual rankings):

There’s nothing that you’d want to read which you cannot read in Singapore…

I think someone should put that on a t-shirt.

It’s nice to live in Singapore and look forward to the new year, mainly because of food and the associated festivals. In December, there were Christmas lights and decorated trees scattered all over the place and Orchard Road was glowing with its usual, magical lighting show. On the food front, we had stores selling “take-out” dinners of entire roasted turkeys and slabs of roast beef, chocolate yule logs, and peppermint candy canes. But while the Western world starts to wind down and face the new year, serious and sober, we’re gearing up again for Chinese New Year. The red decorations have hit all the stores, sales of oranges are going through the roof (because its Chinese name sounds like gold/wealth), and we’ve bought our ang pow envelopes for the kids. (These are envelopes containing money, which are usually given to unmarried people/children.)

In the fourth lunar month after Chinese New Year, there’s the Buddhist holiday of Vesak Day, a day that celebrates Buddha’s birth and is also a day of charity. The Mid-Autumn Festival is famous for its mooncakes, where every hotel in the Chinese-dominated world tries to outdo itself with new and innovative tastes (capuccino or champagne mooncakes, anyone?).

Later in the year, we have the Muslim month of fasting (Puasa month), followed by a joyous celebration at its end in Hari Raya. There are culinary specialties that you can only get around this time of the year (after sundown) that you can’t usually get anytime else.

And, of course, let’s not forget the Hindu festival of Deepavali (the Festival of Light) that celebrates the triumph of good over evil within each person, and is also characterised (for me at least) by some seriously kick-ass food. There are lots of smaller festivals, but those are the main ones. And the calendar slowly segues back to Christmas and that Western food again.

So bring it on, 2008! Me and my appetite are ready!