Living Abroad

I'm a month and a half, maybe two months into my second stint living abroad. Or my second country I should say. I haven't actually lived in the US now for closing on two years. Cambodia is very, very different from Singapore. I would imagine every country is different from each other. Still, you expect some similarities and some differences. Your expectations are invariably wrong.

I bitched and moaned extensively about Singapore. Most people, at some point, do. And it probably took leaving to truly appreciate it. I will always have a special place in my heart for the little red dot. And yet, what I will miss most, are my friends. I will always have a connection in the United States - something to bring me back - my closest friends, the dirt, my family, of course. What would bring me back to Singapore? What will bring me back to Cambodia?

I ask because my time in Singapore fundamentally changed and shaped me as a person, perhaps as much as any experience in my life. And the bonds I formed with some of the people there - I value them very deeply. Will they last? Will they be enough to bring me back, just for a visit?

My mother still writes to the Norwegian woman who lived with her in Texas. She even took us to visit her in Norway when we were much younger. Clearly, that bond has lasted however infrequent and inconsistent it may be. And communication is so, so very much easier today than it ever was before. My fears, perhaps, are unfounded.

My closest friends in Singapore were all Singaporean, true though some of them may have lived in the United States or elsewhere in Europe. In Cambodia, I'm surrounded by white expats. The closest relationship I have with a local is with my assistant. Culturally, we are so different - I think the bonds that transformed me so much in Singapore will be hard to form here. I am truly other in a way I didn't imagine. An invisible line separates the locals from the foreigners, not that it cannot be broken, but it is much more tangible than it was in Singapore.

They called Singapore Asia-lite because the city is clean; people speak English; you can get all your necessities... the list goes on. And I agree, Singapore is Asia-lite. But I don't think it's all those things that make it "asia-lite"; it's not the clean city, the functional public transportation, or the clearly delineated rules and regulations. All of that is gone in Phnom Penh, but I don't think that's what makes it feel so foreign. It's the inability to reach a cultural, intrinsic, fundamental understanding of one another. I will always, always be viewed as the white, male foreigner first and whoever I am as a person second, in Cambodia. In Singapore, that wasn't always the case - often wasn't the case at all.

Now, everyone yell at me for being an imperialistic asshole who isn't willing to make the effort to assimilate, fully assimilate to the local culture.

Journals & Letters

I have inconsistently kept a journal for... 8 years or so. I started when I was sixteen, I guess. At least that's the date of the oldest entry I can find in the oldest journal I can remember. My sister gave me a journal, at some point, and I used that one for a long time. I actually, only recently, filled it up. And I jumped back to a journal that my Cousin had given me, a gift from Italy.

As I flip through the various pages, I'm struck at what I consistently wrote about. I always found myself writing in moments of confusion, anger, frustration, difficult moments. Moments of high emotionality, when I didn't understand what was happening to me. And I didn't understand the world. I also have many entries on the travels I've taken, my personal observations, things of that nature. And finally, I find myself writing about the things I've learned - often interwoven with the previous sorts of entries.

In trying to understand the world, I write. It's the only way that I can really figure things out, especially for myself. I often don't understand my own needs, feelings, and thoughts, until I've penned them down. And when I say penned, I mean penned - on paper, staining it with ink. The computer lacks something.

I forgot my journal this weekend. Well - I decided that I didn't really need it. So, in my haste, I left in Cambodia (packing last minute, as usual). I really wish that I could pull out a pen and start jotting things down in it right now. I've typed something up on my computer which I'll transcribe into it later, when I'm back in Cambodia, but it isn't quite the same. And I still don't quite understand what I'm trying to write about.

The other thing that I do is write letters. Some of you reading this may have received a letter from me at some point. I hope you'll forgive my handwriting. I like letters because I'm honest in them. Something about transcribing what I want to say to someone... It allows me to say things I wouldn't feel comfortable saying in person, to explain things that I couldn't find the words for in person. And I think it's so sad that letters are dying. That so very very few people write letters anymore.

I'm not sure if there's much more I want to write in this post now. Just that I wish I was writing in my journal instead.

Musings on Adulthood

I was speaking to a very close friend of mine the other day and he made this profound comment: "I'm an adult," he said, "I've grown up". After reflecting on that for a little while, I realized that so had I. The last vestiges of my childhood are gone. I'm working and supporting myself. I live on my own; I deal with my problems by myself (when I can). I'm in this messy confusing relationship that doesn't have any real boundaries, beyond the fact that it's real - far realer than the stuff of boyhood fantasy.

I'm not exactly sure when this happened. I guess at some point over the past year and a half. Some point after I moved to Singapore. And it wasn't a sudden transformation, it was a subtle, gradual shift. Or maybe it only seemed that way to me.

I'm in Singapore right now for Chinese New Years, the biggest holiday in many Asian cultures, and certainly in Chinese cultures. I went to a reunion dinner last night. We had steamboat. I enjoyed it.

I think one of the most striking observations that I've made is that the world is far, far, far more complicated than I could have ever imagined. And I'm not talking about politics and all that bullshit, but personal relationships and how we interact with each other, and the reasons we do the things we do.

I was struck by my father; he said something to the effect that he and my mother were very grateful and really enjoyed my visit back to the US over the holidays. Grateful.... Why was he grateful? Of course I would come back, how could I not? I wanted to see them and my family - I missed them dearly. And, of course, I miss them dearly today.

And it struck me that my parents are starting to get old, which made me a little sad. I've always teased them about how they're old, and how my dad's hair is turning gray and so on... but it was always in jest.

Why is it that people do things, knowing they're going to hurt someone else, not wanting to hurt someone else, but still doing them. Not being capable of not doing it? And why do we feel so isolated in our human shells? Why is it so hard to reach across and breakthrough that barrier? I can't think that it's because we're selfish creatures, we have such great capacity for magnanimity.

I think that's part of why I like writing so much. It helps me understand things that I don't. Well, it helps me muddle through as best I can, I guess.

I think it's the scars we can't see, the ones below the skin. Those are the ones that really hurt us. The ones that make us do things we don't understand and that we don't want to. We're just trying to protect ourselves, and what is so wrong with that? Alas, we often end up turning the knife against our own skin in our haste.

Maybe that's what wisdom is - knowing when we should protect ourself, and knowing when to expose our heart, red and dripping with blood.

Off I go again...

It's been a while since I've last written. Forgive me, but I get caught up in things as so many of us do.

Most of you know that I've taken a new job in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I'm working in the wine industry doing... well, mostly marketing stuff. I'm not quite sure how I would define any of it. It's a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I guess most importantly, it's a new page in my life.

I don't think anyone who knew me two years ago, or perhaps even a year ago, could say that I'm the same person I was. Singapore has changed me, perhaps for the good, perhaps for the bad, but that's kind of what growing up is about, isn't it? I'm no longer the young, excited kid running at the world, arms akimbo and expecting everything. I've steadied myself, a little bit; I may still be running arms akimbo, but I've got direction or at least the semblance there of.

After a somewhat trying flight out here (I'm keeping the Ashby/Burch tradition of missing flights alive), I touched down in Phnom Penh a week ago, about 10:30 in the morning. The city was much as I remember it, chaotic and alive with the bustle of people. And of course the smells - no two places smell quite the same. And Phnom Penh, of course, has it's own smell.

I was greeted at my new apartment by Jean-Baptiste, my new roommate and colleague. We're sharing an apartment together for the first few weeks we are here until we can find something of our own. We went out to lunch and toured around the city for a little while before I collapsed into my bed, exhausted from jetlag and stimulus.

I started work first thing the next morning. I haven't stopped since. I've realized, over the past year or so, that I like work. I enjoy working; I enjoy doing something. I'm not quite sure where or when this perverse relationship with work entered our national psyche, but it did, viewing work as something evil to bemoan and berate. We're at a loss for it. I have found, and do find great satisfaction in working - sad, but true, I get bored if I'm left to my own devices for an extended period of time. That's not a bad thing, boredom can be delightful in the right context (I'm thinking of a rainy day in Michigan), but the stimulus of doing something, it appeals to me.

So I've been here a week now, actually, not quite. This weekend I spent in Singapore, sort of visiting my old haunts and definitely visiting my old friends. Of course, it was very good to see them. I love them, and my opportunities to see them will undoubtedly shrivel as time goes. I think of all my closest friends when I was in high school - how many of them do I see now? It's the curse that comes with being itinerant - I have to struggle and choose which connections I keep alive.

I realized over the past few days, over the past week, how much I enjoy the sights and sounds of Asia. All my relatives in the US are thinking that I enjoy it MORE than the sights and sounds of the US, but that isn't true. They're different and in many, many ways incomparable. How would I compare the vigor of the mountains to the endless stretch of rice paddies? How do I compare the towering steel of a sky scrapper or sprawling suburbs to an endless row of pastel shop houses?

I am, in this moment, delirious and exhausted with jetlag and lack of sleep, but awed and humbled by the majesty of the world. How can you deny a god who offers us such endless possibility  come fraught with peril and evil as it is?

Cultivating Fear

Fear is a powerful emotion, a necessary emotion. It tells us when we shouldn’t do something. It saves us from making some of the gravest mistakes in our lives. In fact, without fear humanity wouldn’t exist today. In some ways, fear necessarily guides every action we take. It undoubtedly saved our ancestors from going into that dark cave inhabited by a saber-toothed tiger eons ago.

While that primal instinct was undoubtedly important, fear has morphed itself in today’s society. In some cases for the better, but in many cases for the worse. Fear prays on society today in so many ways. That original emotion directly correlated to our physical wellbeing, but it’s now attached to so much more – image, health, stability – sometimes for good, but often for the worse.

Fear is more pervasive, I think, more subtle, than anyone realizes. Talk to any liberal  (about fear) in the US and they’ll undoubtedly mention Fox News and the culture of fear it propagates throughout the conservative base. And they would, of course, be correct – just listen to one of Glen Becks rants and raves. But I think the culture of fear is far more ingrained, far more subversive than most people realize.

Could you quite your job if you hated it? Move to a new country on a whim? Ask that cute girl or boy you’ve been crushing on for the past six months out? Some people undoubtedly do, any and all of those things; good for them. Most people, however, can’t or won’t. Fear prevents them from doing it. It isn’t active, visceral fear; it’s latent inert intangible fear. It’s something most people don’t even realize exists.

I’m making these grand, sweeping generalizations because of my growing awareness of them. Perhaps it’s a result of living in Singapore – the government actively instills fear in the population. Or maybe I’ve just become more attune to it – living so closely with people who have chosen to resist it (well maybe, but something convinced us all to up and move out).

I’m coming to realize that popular culture – pervasive culture – utilizes fear on a subconscious level. You see it in the advertisements, the political slogans, and what have you more than anything else, but it pervades society on a much more individual level. Ask someone for advice and they will probably counsel you towards the least radical course, the safest action. And hell, most of the time, they’re right. But hearing that over and over again – it wears a groove in our subconscious selves away from the radical course – towards safety and stagnation.

It takes courage to confront that latent insipid fear and rebel against it. It takes awareness. What is the true motivation behind your course of action? Personally, I’m examining mine a little more closely – the origin and the source – to see the root emotion. I am finding the results startling. More though, I see it in other people – a stagnation stemming from fear coated in supercilious logic. Take a second look. You might be surprised.

A World of Sweet Crazies

Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they're not fond of rules..

     -Steve Jobs

A couple of things are prompting this essay. I recently read an article, well read about a shoot, which focuses on Ethiopia’s “Sweet Crazies,” the 15% of the population that suffers from some form of mental illness. I also read an article discussing dyslexia and the possible benefits that it provides the afflicted. And, of course, I’m perpetually reminded of my brother’s permanent inspiration.

Around the world mental differences get viewed in a lot of different lights. And, I should note, I’m talking about anyone whose brain works differently, be it dyslexia, a manic-depressive disorder, or psychophrenia.

In much of Africa, any sort of mental instability often gets linked to demons or spirits inhabiting the afflicted. The victims are often ostracized or the treatment is terribly inadequate and possibly dangerous (if there’s a demon stuck in you, drill a hole in your skull to let it out, right…?).

Western society tends to over prescribe in order to deal with the insanity. If you have x take pills A, B, and C. If that doesn’t help take twice as many of A, B, and C; hell, let’s throw in some D for good measure. Granted, that’s usually paired with some sort of psychiatric treatment. Or… you know, it’s ignored and the mentally afflicted are left to wander the streets.

I don’t envy anyone with any sort of disorder. And I got lucky as hell; I’ve never had any real problems dealing with my emotional or mental health. Having grown up with someone who dealt with a variety of different educational disorders, I’m aware just how difficult it can be.

Still, somehow despite, or even, perhaps, because of all the challenges people that are a bit “touched” tend to end up touching the lives of ever many more. Writers tend to be manic-depressive alcoholics. Artists get a whole range of disorders, combined with alcoholism, of course. Many scientists and engineers fall into the autistic category. CEOs tend to have a wide variety of educational challenges.

So does society have a healthy relationship with all of these people, so fundamentally important? Eh, probably not. Just take a look at the latest numbers for the homeless aimlessly wandering around the states… A lucky few get the attention and help they need to go onto great things, not that their life is any easier for it, but most get lost among the multitudes.

Food Tastes Good

I recently had the opportunity to enjoy at meal at one of the finest restaurants in the world. I was given the following menu:

Pure

Salt

Artisan

South

Texture

Unique

Memory

Terroir

Each menu item included a brief comment on the chef’s philosophy going into the dish. When the dishes came out, our waiter told us what the actual food was. Pure, for example, was scallop and cauliflower. The restaurant looked at food in an entirely different light, different from even foodies. But yet, it really didn’t, it had just been couched in more… intellectual? academic? philosophical? terms. The chef devoted significantly more time to the language of food than most people do (a man after my own heart).

So food… We need it the same way a car needs fuel. You’ve undoubtedly heard the saying that the world is 24 hours and a food shortage from anarchy. The counter to that is humanity’s first step towards towards civilization was the cultivation of food. We moved from being hunter-gatherers, wild, to being agrarian, civilized.

The food industry is one of the largest in the world. Annually it accounts for roughly 3.2 trillion dollars in revenue. The United States consumes roughly 1 trillion or 1/3 of the total food sold, nearly 10% of GDP. That’s a lot of money to be spent on something so seemingly simple.

And it makes sense, aside from water, what could be more important than food? In Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, food comes in at the most basic level. Water, air, sleep, and, interestingly enough, sex also fill that level (at least according to Wikipedia). Air is, well, air – you can’t really do much to improve it, though it can be contaminated. As for water, last I checked, you can spend a few hundred dollars on a bottle of champagne, essentially fizzy water. And sex… just read my last post.

As our culture has continually developed, becoming more intricate and varied, food has naturally grown up along with it. As humanity gradually produced more and more excess, we’ve devoted more and more time, more and more energy, more and more thought, to food!

Today in cultures of excess (read: developed or semi-developed world) you can spend an easy three or four hundred dollars on a meal, including alcohol, if you want. I can assure you, it will be delicious. I ask, however, if it is the best meal you’ve ever had? In fact, what was the best meal you ever had?

Taking a note from of “Ratatouille,” (if you haven’t seen it, go watch it, NOW) I suspect that it may be something of little note. My most satisfying meal, one that I haven’t had in ages, is probably caesar salad with roast chicken. It all goes back to my childhood and the memories I associate with it. It’s not the best meal I’ve had; I do distinguish, but the most satisfying. And I could eat it right now, though I’m full, and still be quite pleased with it.

Food comes with significant emotional impact. Your company can ruin the best meal in the world; they can heighten the worst to glory. And then on the other hand, we often use food to cheer our own gloomy mood. It’s a strange relationship. I do wonder just how much time and energy the world truly devotes to food; I can assure you it’s far more than the 3.2 trillion I quoted earlier.

Speaking as someone hopelessly obsessed and devoted to food, I know that a significant amount, if not majority, of my time is spent on food. It may be your greatest time consumer as well.

The Oldest Profession

Yes, I’m talking about prostitution. And it may not, technically, be the oldest profession, but it has existed in one form or another for as long as humanity has existed. Some of the greater apes have even been observed trading food for sex. Throughout the world today it exists in various forms: legal or illegal, reputable or despicable, glamorous or ugly.

I’ll start with some history. Some of the oldest recorded forms of prostitution describe it in a religious context. It was practiced in ancient Babylon in certain hospitality and fertility rituals. It was, in fact, holy – honored. That was probably the high point of prostitution. Prostitutes were given respect, and were even protected by law. Hammurabi’s Code, the oldest known set of laws, includes provisions protecting the rights of prostitutes.

In more recent history, prostitutes have ranged in class from the highly sought and respected courtesan to the lowly streetwalker, though not in religious contexts (to my knowledge). Until recently it has always been legal, to some degree, or at the very least not illegal.

That all changed with the turn of the 20^th century, in the west at least. In the United States the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (yes, the same people responsible for prohibition) managed to successfully make prostitution illegal throughout most of the United States. Similar movements enjoyed varying degrees of success throughout Europe.

In the West, today, it is mostly, still, illegal. Exceptions exist, of course, and in some places prostitution has been effectively decriminalized. Unfortunately, the profession continues to exist throughout the world in illegal capacity. Human Sex Trafficking is the second largest criminal trade in the world, second only to drug trafficking. Estimates range, but profits from the industry could be as high as 31.6 billion dollars.  It is considered by many to be the largest slave trade in the history of humanity.

What about legal prostitution? Aside from the few places it exists in the west, prostitution enjoys significantly greater social acceptance in the East. Most countries have legalized and regulated prostitution. In Singapore, for example, prostitution is legal and regulated – it’s even contained to a specific part of the city: Geylang. I don’t know as much, and won’t speak for other countries.

But prostitution continues to exist in other areas of Singapore illegally, notably Orchard Towers. Orchard Tower’s is the home to illegal prostitution in Singapore. Many foreigners (Malay, Thai, Cambodian, etc) come to Singapore on a tourist visa. They then work for between one and two months as a prostitute before returning to their home country. They live off their profits for the remainder of the year. Their clients? Other foreigners – western, Chinese, Japanese, all wealthy.

This past weekend, some friends and I visited Orchard Towers. Don’t worry; we were merely observers, not participants. Following someone who had been before we were led to the “four floors of whores”. It’s a dirty, abused place.

Mostly drunk, older, slovenly expats (though some my age) dance with younger Asian and Russian women. To be honest it was disgusting and degrading both to the prostitutes and the men seeking their services. Money talks…

At one point several drunken men came up to the girls I was with (meaning friends that embarked on this adventure with me) and began dancing with them. We left quickly after that scene, much to everyone’s relief.

On the whole it was a very ugly introduction to prostitution. I understand why it’s been made illegal in so many countries. Yet, I’ve always been a proponent of legalization and regulation. It is, I think, safer for all the parties involved. Still, it made me seriously question if prostitution can be safely, legally done. After all, prostitution is legal in Singapore. I wish I had visited Geylang, to see what the legal side of it looks like.

And then I come back to the fact that it exists, regardless. Evidence enough in the size and profit of today’s sex trade. So how does a country go about regulating this industry safely, effectively? I’ve no idea, but it’s given me much and more to think about.

Speak English, Can Can

English is one of the most widely spoken languages in the world; the most when native and non-native speakers are combined. It is the official language of the European Union, The United States, India, and many other countries throughout the world (including Singapore).

Speaking English is a good skill to have.

But what about all the non-native English speakers? Some linguists now estimate that non-native speakers now outnumber native speakers by a ratio of as much as 3:1. That means for every native born English speaker, three more people are taught English as a second language. Lucky us, the native English speakers, I mean; we can travel nearly anywhere in the world and get along just fine. Undoubtedly, that’s one of the main causes of the US’s deeply entrenched monolinguism.

Everyone speaks English. Why learn any other language? Please, translate:

Dis Guy Singrish Sib Eh Powerful Sia.

Any guesses? It means: This person’s Singlish is very good. (Thanks Wikipedia for the example).

Okay, how about this:

Order That The Objects Continuen Infecting Your mystery, Please Not To Touch.

Or

Coffee Give Birth to a Child Condition

The first example is Singlish. The commonly used pidgin English found widely in Singapore. It combines mostly English words with mandarin sentence structures and syntax, and a handful of words and phrases from Chinese, Malay, and Tamil (not to mention newly created hybrid words).

The second two are examples of what is commonly called Engrish: signs, warnings, announcements and other public messages translated into English from a second (usually Asian) language. I’m guessing the first one is a warning not to touch food or some other item to prevent infection. The second, again guessing, is a warning that drinking coffee can potentially cause birth defects.

So yes, everyone speaks English, but do they speak the same English you and I do? Well, that depends a lot on the person. In Singapore, specifically, the government tries very hard to ensure that their population speaks proper, British English. It’s taught in schools; Singlish is discouraged. And with the exception of cabbies and hawker centers, no western English speaker would have any problem communicating with the locals. Most people speak passing to good English.

But what about China, Japan, Korea? How about India? Or any of the places where a non-native, non-fluent speaker, teaches English to a second group of non-native speakers?

During one of my experiences in China, I was speaking to a young lady in a bar. She was educated, relatively well travelled (had travelled in and outside of China), and middle or upper middle class. I speak no Chinese; her spoken English was abysmal. Simply put, we were not communicating. And then one of us began writing on a piece of paper. Her written English was perfect. Over the course of thirty or forty-five minutes we had a complete conversation covering a variety of topics, utilizing complex and varied sentence structures, tenses, and a significantly diverse vocabulary. She made one mistake, in grammar and punctuation, over the course of the entire conversation.

I wonder what her spoken English is like; it certainly isn’t even remotely similar to mine or any other native speakers.

Now many people have postulated that Chinese will soon overcome English as an international language. China is coming up in the world; 1.6 billion speak Chinese natively if not more. Both valid points, but until the Chinese adopt an alphabetic writing system, Chinese will simply be too difficult to become widely used. But then some 200-600 million Chinese are learning English… It just may not be the same as your English or my English – it’ll be much closer to a Japanese person’s English, or a Korean’s, even perhaps, a Ghanian’s.

Finally, I come to Business English. Business English is taught, and spoken, widely throughout the international business community (surprise, surprise). A Japanese and Brazilian company trying to do business: English. The same goes for just about any other combination of two countries, excepting, maybe, linguistically dominated regions (Europe, South and Central America, the Middle East).

Interestingly enough, it’s easier for two people who both know Business English to communicate (even outside of business settings) with each other than for a native speaker and someone who only knows Business English. Two business speakers know the same vocabulary, use the same constructions, and are less inclined towards regional variation in syntax and tone. The native speaker may understand perfectly, but the business speaker has no idea what the native speaker is saying.

So what does all this mean for our increasingly global world. What does it mean for all the native English speakers throughout the world? To be honest, I haven’t a clue, but it will be an exciting and interesting journey.

I won’t even get into British vs American English… bloody brits.

At long last... Pictures

Hey folks,

I finally have internet at my house, which means I've been able to upload quite a number of new pictures. So sorry for the delay; I hope you enjoy the new selection. I've experimented a bit more, hopefully with success.

Training Young Lions

Education is a hotly contested topic anywhere in the world. What is the best way to educate and invest in the youngest, most recent generation? Hell, I have no idea, but it is fairly clear that what we have now isn’t working in the United States.

Singapore, on the other hand, consistently ranks in the top 10 according to international rankings, and has ranked first several times. Well-done Singapore. And having been within the school system for roughly a week, I am obviously an expert on it.

I’ll start with the organization of Singapore’s school system. The Ministry of Education, an obviously governmental body, oversees the entire country’s education (excluding international schools ie American School, British School, Canadian school etc). Most schools are called neighborhood schools, essentially the equivalent of public schools in the US. All of these schools receive the majority of their funding from the MOE, accept a more or less standardized curriculum, and follow MOE guidelines. Independent schools, funded in part by MOE, are the equivalent of private schools. All Singaporean children are required to attend either a neighborhood or independent school until the age of 16 (no international schools).

Singaporean children first enter the official school system at the age of 7, going to primary school. At the end of primary school, the children will then be tracked into either an independent school or a neighborhood school based on the results of the PSLEs (Primary School Leaving Exam). A standardized test they take at the end of primary 6 (1-6 represents a year).

In secondary school they will be tracked into Academic Express, Academic Normal, or Technical Normal streams, again based on their test results. Students can move between streams, but generally do not (movement between Academic Express and Academic Normal being the most common). Academic Express students are on a four-year plan. Normal students are generally on a five-year plan. For the record, I’m at a secondary school.

At the end of their four (or five) years, the academic students then take the Cambridge ‘O’ level exams. These tests determine if they will go onto Junior College or begin attending courses at one of Singapore’s many polytechnics. The technical students do not take ‘O’ levels (I think), and instead are streamed directly into technical college (think mechanics, plumbers, etc).

Junior College is a two-year program designed to prepare students for university level courses. At the end of their two years they take the Cambridge ‘A’ level exams. Which essentially determine which school in Singapore and what program they can enroll in. Many students choose to apply to schools outside of the country.

Students that were either not accepted into Junior College or did not rank highly enough on their ‘A’ level exams often go to a polytechnic college. I would equate them to community colleges in the US, but it’s slightly more complicated than that.

Polytechnics are three-year programs that award a diploma, not a degree at their completion. Many students enter the work force at the end of their polytechnic program, many more use this as leverage to be accepted into one of the universities. It bridges the gap between high school and college in the US – probably having a similar status as an associate’s degree.

So, now that I’ve explained, roughly, the system – what do I think of it? It’s entirely too early to tell. From a purely theoretical standpoint, my upbringing as a westerner, and certain personal experiences make me reject it outright.

Standardized testing accounts for nearly everything. And you get to take that test once. Some people aren’t good test takers; it’s a fact of life. And while some people do break out of the system (notably a technical streamed student recently attended university and received, I think, a doctorate or maybe he’s becoming a doctor), most can’t and won’t.

Not to mention my opinions about standardized testing in general, but every teacher I’ve met teaches to the test. At the end of the day that’s what’s important. Success on the test trumps everything else; to me, at least, this seems to undermine the concept of teaching as a whole. I want to educate for the sake of the student and the student’s edification – not a little number beside their name. Not that the two, necessarily, can’t coexist. If I can get that number high enough while still inspiring my students, all the better.

And yet, at the end of the day, it works. And it works a hell of a lot better than the mess we’ve got going in the United States right now. Do you sacrifice few for the sake of many? I don’t know. Is there a better system? Probably, but neither you nor I know what it is.

In the meantime, I’m shutting up and keep on trucking. I’ve already learned a lot, and have a lot more to learn. And for that matter, how do I experiment without jeopardizing the futures of my students?

Edit: The system isn’t quite as rigid as this. Several other alternate schools do exist, but I’m trying to give a general idea. And I’m sure I’m giving a very biased idea. I will have significantly more on this later.

The Beauty of Free

At this point in time, money is a bit tight for me. I don’t get my first paycheck until October 12^th. I’ll be fine, but that means I can’t go splurge on, really, anything until then. In a few previous posts, I’ve mentioned a handful of the free activities that Singapore offers, in one capacity or another. This includes Night Lights, my various walking tours (I do like a proper amble), and anything else I can find.

The national park, perhaps the only true urban rainforest, has no entrance cost, but substantial trails including a suspension bridge over 75 m (~225 ft) high. The esplanade offers a beautiful view of Marina Bay and the Central Business District. Clarke Quay has extensive displays on the Chinese Zodiac for the Mid-Autumn Festival.

And then, of course, the Busker Festival. Each year(?) on Sentosa (think Disney world relegated to an island), a free busker festival is put on. Internationally renowned buskers are invited to put on their displays by the Sentosa Development Board, or the government (is there really a difference? It’s a distorted wavering line.). Due to time constraints, I only managed to watch two of the performances. In Singapore style, and perhaps contrary to true busker art, the shows are at set stages and specific times. Still, the shows were great.

Flying Colors, by John Gawdy, a native New Jersian, is half street art half show. He throws paint at a canvas, hence the flying colors. To the accompaniment of music he painted John Lenin. It took the crowd a bit to figure out who he was, but most of us westerners realized pretty quickly with the hints: dead, peaceful, gunshot, and singer/song writer.

The other show, Acromanuel, would have been banned in the United States for sensitivity issues. An acrobatic comedian duo put on an impressive show. One, feigning an idiotic Mexican, Manuel, follows the directions of the other, the so-called Green Man. The show, possibly designed for children, but entertaining to all, displays some impressive acrobatic feats mixed with a healthy bit of slapstick comedy. Who doesn’t want to see the idiot shoot the boss in the buttocks with a blow-dart? I say it would have been banned in the US because of its impersonation of Hispanics and Native Americans. The duo made blatant generalizations about both groups, much to the gaiety of the locals. No Hispanics or Native Americans were present.

My point, ultimately, is that a great deal of fun can be had without spending any money. Drinking, being incredibly expensive in Singapore, simply isn’t in the budget. My normal weekend activity being supplanted I’m finding new ways to entertain myself. I enjoy myself more and I spend less. Not only that, I find myself being enriched by the experience, not poisoned. It’s amazing what a simple search in the right context can turn up.