Fun in the sun...

...or at least that's what I had expected in Singapore. Mostly it's been cloudy with a fair amount of rain. I talked to a Singaporean yesterday who said this weather was unusual for this time of year. It should be hotter and drier right now, but the rain keeps falling nearly every day. Don't get me wrong, because there's still a lot of sun and it is quite hot, but the amount of rain surprises me. It was storming again this morning when I woke up. At least it is definitely cooller this way. I'm not complaining!

Next, speaking of expectations, let me just point out that there is more emphasis in this program on the "study" part of study abroad than I had expected. Not that there is any more work here than in a typical class at UNC based on my past year's experience, but there is definitely more responsibility for the student to do the work. All twenty-five of us are in two classes together, one of which is taught by the UNC professor who helps run the program, so there is definitely a higher degree of expectation in terms of how thoroughly we do the reading assignments. At school, I could get by with a quick read-through, especially for classes of four hundred people. Not so here.

The reason I bring this up now is because I just finished a 1200-word essay, which really isn't long at all, nor was it very time consuming to write. The truth of the matter is that this is the first time in my life that I actually have to do real schoolwork during the summer. But if that's the price I have to pay to have this experience, then I would probably pay it five times over. Singapore's worth every bit of it.

It's strange how quickly routines can develop, too. I've only been here for two and half weeks, but I feel that I've reached a degree of comfort in my environment. I don't know if that makes much sense, but with every day that passes I feel less and less like an outsider and more of just an observer and a participant. Then, of course, there are those moments when something happens or you realize you don't know where you are and it hits you suddenly that this city is as foreign as it was when I first got here. It's so modern, and perhaps Western, and yet in some places the touch of the West hasn't completely corrupted the original.

For instance, when I pass by a tourist who is noticeably Caucasian, half the time they refuse to acknowledge me. You know how people give a smile or nod or just give a look in recognition? None of that. Someone mentioned in the group that it could be that they do not want another foreigner invading their "pure Asian experience." Well I hate to tell them, but if they want a "pure Asian experience," they might want to look beyond this little island. I've yet to see anything that I perceived as pure Asian, whatever that means anyway.

Another instance when it was painfully obvious that I'm a foreigner and clearly not from Asia was in Little India. I finally went last night and did enjoy it, since it is different from Chinatown or Arab Street. I saw the fewest number of non-Indian (or similar to Indian, as my friend with me pointed out... she's Bengali herself) people in any area like that since I've been here. Since she has lived in Bangladesh (which borders India) and knows Bengali, she could point out some things that I would not notice as quickly or with as much information, like the languages on the signs or the types of clothing in the shops or the prices of bangles here as opposed to home. The clothes are so bright and colorful, and a lot are made in India. I have yet to buy any clothes, but I think I'll wait until I get back from KL to do that. Clothes are supposed to be even cheaper there, along with everything else. We'll see.

After Fahmida and I looked around Little India, we got a cab and went a short distance to Arab Street. She had been to a deli the night before and really enjoyed it, so we decided to go back there last night for dinner. I just want to say how delicious that place was. I had chicken, a type of mild salsa stuff, and bread. Real bread. Practically a loaf of bread. I was so happy. The place was called Deli Moroccan (I think), and the owner was a very nice man. The area we were in was rather quiet around 8 pm to 10 pm when we were there, so it was a great place for us to get some reading done for class today. People just sat around and talked along the little strip of cafes and restaurants with music playing. Then once, abruptly, the music stopped and I looked around to see what was wrong. Earlier the CD had been skipping. Instead, the prayer call sounded from the mosque behind us, and it was soothing to hear even though I'm not Muslim. We'd actually heard anothe prayer call earlier when we tried to find the restaurant. As we walked, the call started and we were able to follow the voice to reach the mosque, behind which we knew the restaurant was. Pretty cool.

Let's see, what else is there to tell. Before our wanderings yesterday the entire group had gone to the Ministry of Information, Communication, and Arts (MICA) to hear a presentation in a format similar to that of the one at HDB. The woman presenting told us about the Singapore Arts Festival going on right now, as well as the efforts to improve the image of Singapore abroad. She says there are a lot of misconceptions or incomplete views of the country, which is very true. People think it's too authoritative and too regulated, a place where chewing gum is illegal and drug trafficking gets you the death penalty. While these things are true, they don't exactly show the whole picture. At least, that's what the presenter said. I don't really know where I stand on the issue yet.

Okay. Well, pictures are yet again not cooperating with me, and I need to do some reading so I don't have time to really fool with it right now. I'll try to add Little India pictures later.

But before I go, a story:

The night before last I was up late talking to people on the trip and just hanging out, then it was just a couple of us talking until practically 2 in the morning. Then it was just me, and I was definitely realizing the stupidity of my decision to take a long name earlier that day. I could not get to sleep, so I just laid there for a while in the dark, thinking sleep would have to come sooner or later.

Then, something in my fan made a noise. Now, this ceiling fan is seriously industrial strength, not like mine at home or in our living room. This thing has five speeds, and the fifth speed sounds like a small airplane has taken up residence on the roof so I try to avoid that one. Anyway, I heard this snapping noise and thought, hmm, that was odd. So I lie there for a little longer, not really wanting to move but not able to sleep either. Finally, I get up and turn the lights on, thinking that it sounded an awful lot like a bug being hit by the fan. I don't really care for bugs to be around me when I'm sleeping. It weirds me out. So I'm looking around and not seeing anything, but now that the lights are all on I decide to sit down at the computer for a while and talk to my roommate on IM (she's back from Tanzania!) and catch up with her. I sit there for a couple of minutes, but the longer I do the more I realize that it really sounded like an insect had hit the fan. That thing goes so fast, I thought, it had to have killed the bug. But then wouldn't it have been on the floor somewhere?

Basically it's three in the morning and I have to get up in three hours and I don't know what to do because I don't want to sleep with a crazy unknown thing flying about my room. Then I realize I had been sprawled out on my stomach on top of the sheet (it's hot in the room some nights) and that I hadn't checked my back. Great, I thought. So, I go over to my mirror and turn around, and sure enough there's a huge black beetle on my back. Not kidding. This is no cutesy little junebug or anything. This thing is two inches long and, of course, barely moving. Now, I'm not really one to freak out or scream when there's a bug around, but I definitely don't care for strange and not to mention large bugs to be on me. So basically I'm standing there wondering if it's poisonous or if I should just knock it off and really wishing my dad were there so he could be macho and kill the bug for me. Pathetic, I know! So I change shirts (carefully) and go outside and shake off my shirt hard, but it won't come off. Finally I end up knocking it off with a folder of papers from the HDB visit. Crisis averted. Still, though, just picture me sitting around in my room at three in the morning looking for any more beetles. Then my friend had to go and tell me that it might have been laying eggs somewhere. That helped matters immensely, of course. First ants, now beetle infestations! But so far, no such infestation. Just an army of one.

Well, at least I didn't wake up one night with a gecko on my face like a girl did down the hall. That's just what happens when buildings are as open as all the ones here, especially housing flats or resident halls without aircon like this one.

Okay, so not that great of a story. I really need to work on my story-telling abilities. I could have turned that into a long winded epic tale of man versus beast, a sleep-deprived girl fighting off a dangerous, fanged insect in the Orient...

Speaking of which, we're going to the zoo and on a night safari tomorrow afternoon/night, so that should give me some more better stories. For now, though, that's all folks.