<TABLE id=msgUN border=0 cellSpacing=3 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR><TD id=msgUNsubj vAlign=top>
Coffeeshop Chit Chat - SGs drink tea from plastic bags strange!</TD><TD id=msgunetc noWrap align=right> </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><TABLE class=msgtable cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="96%"><TBODY><TR><TD class=msg vAlign=top><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgbfr1 width="1%"> </TD><TD><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0><TBODY><TR class=msghead vAlign=top><TD class=msgF width="1%" noWrap align=right>From: </TD><TD class=msgFname width="68%" noWrap>kojakbt_89 <NOBR></NOBR> </TD><TD class=msgDate width="30%" noWrap align=right>3:53 am </TD></TR><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgT height=20 width="1%" noWrap align=right>To: </TD><TD class=msgTname width="68%" noWrap>ALL <NOBR></NOBR></TD><TD class=msgNum noWrap align=right> (1 of 3) </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgleft rowSpan=4 width="1%"> </TD><TD class=wintiny noWrap align=right>35936.1 </TD></TR><TR><TD height=8></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgtxt>Jul 11, 2010
THE EX-PAT FILES
Different kind of buzz
<!-- by line -->By Victoria Vaughan
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The excitement of moving to a foreign country can quickly fade as what was strange becomes mundane, what was surprising becomes routine, as your senses settle in to a new life.
But remembering that magic of the first impressions helps me to appreciate what it is to live in the tropics.
The sounds of Singapore are so evocative and one of the first things that strike - or wake - you. The first was the cicadas. The high-pitched crescendo of one of these little fellas seemed almost comical. How could it make so much noise? It sounded like it was going to explode from the effort. I wonder at how it has become a background sound although I am still trying to spot one of these noisemakers.
The next sound was the 5am wake-up call from what I referred to as a 'whohoo bird' - I now know, thanks to my visiting parents' curiosity, that this is a koel. I started a war with this unwelcome alarm when I threw a tennis ball in the rough direction of its perch. I feel it decided to strike back when I was on Skype with my family with the window open, and every time I started to speak, this bird began a series of 'whohoos' - a cause for much hilarity for those on the other end of the call. The result - I am out of tennis balls but I can now sleep through the koel's calls.
Then there is the low buzz of enormous carpenter bees. These big black monsters will send me skittering for cover - give me snakes or spiders, but my room is filled with bees. In my first few weeks here, a horrified taxi driver looked on as I jettisoned my laptop onto the concrete pavement because one of these beasts did a fly-by.
The chirp of geckos took a while to place. Falling asleep I would hear this chattering noise and it took a few months to figure out that geckos, not curtain dwelling bats or birds, were the origin.
Then there are the frogs (or toads) which use the drains as amplifiers for their midnight conversations.
Not all sounds are from nature, however. Ceaseless construction work puts paid to many weekend lie-ins, and always in the background, there is a low roar of the city, like a never-breaking wave. But unlike other cities I have lived in, it is not punctuated by sirens from emergency services or the toots of impatient horns.
The trees at first sight are gigantic compared to my native temperate England. From the rain trees which line the roads to the crazy mess of banyan trees, they are stunning. My favourites are covered in a beard of grass or the plain weird cannon ball trees with flowers as big as your face and trunks bobbled with cannon-ball shaped fruits.
One of the major smells of Singapore was at first a mystery. I couldn't figure out what the strange smell was in supermarkets until I realised it was the packages of custard-coloured segments of durian.
Mangos and pineapples have a sweeter flavour here than those shipped in containers to Britain. My taste buds struggled to place the rambutan, mangosteen, chiku, dragon fruit and jackfruit sold at the super convenient fruit stalls - another difference from home.
Coming from a country with a great tea-drinking tradition, I still find it strange to see take-away plastic bags filled with the beverage.
The first thunderstorm I experienced in the Central Business District was electric. I yelped at the sound of the sky falling down as the wind tore my umbrella inside out and caught up my skirt exposing my thankfully comprehensive underwear to unsuspecting passers- by. I ducked at the sight of forked lightning and learnt never to leave home without an umbrella even if the sky is blue.
After nearly three years here, senses can be dulled to what was once so exotic. But sometimes when the whohoo bird gets going just as the thunder cracks overhead and the air is thick enough to taste, I can feel those first days in Singapore once more.
The writer, who is a Straits Times reporter, is from Britain. She has lived here for almost three years.
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THE EX-PAT FILES
Different kind of buzz
<!-- by line -->By Victoria Vaughan
<!-- end by line -->
<!-- end left side bar -->
The excitement of moving to a foreign country can quickly fade as what was strange becomes mundane, what was surprising becomes routine, as your senses settle in to a new life.
But remembering that magic of the first impressions helps me to appreciate what it is to live in the tropics.
The sounds of Singapore are so evocative and one of the first things that strike - or wake - you. The first was the cicadas. The high-pitched crescendo of one of these little fellas seemed almost comical. How could it make so much noise? It sounded like it was going to explode from the effort. I wonder at how it has become a background sound although I am still trying to spot one of these noisemakers.
The next sound was the 5am wake-up call from what I referred to as a 'whohoo bird' - I now know, thanks to my visiting parents' curiosity, that this is a koel. I started a war with this unwelcome alarm when I threw a tennis ball in the rough direction of its perch. I feel it decided to strike back when I was on Skype with my family with the window open, and every time I started to speak, this bird began a series of 'whohoos' - a cause for much hilarity for those on the other end of the call. The result - I am out of tennis balls but I can now sleep through the koel's calls.
Then there is the low buzz of enormous carpenter bees. These big black monsters will send me skittering for cover - give me snakes or spiders, but my room is filled with bees. In my first few weeks here, a horrified taxi driver looked on as I jettisoned my laptop onto the concrete pavement because one of these beasts did a fly-by.
The chirp of geckos took a while to place. Falling asleep I would hear this chattering noise and it took a few months to figure out that geckos, not curtain dwelling bats or birds, were the origin.
Then there are the frogs (or toads) which use the drains as amplifiers for their midnight conversations.
Not all sounds are from nature, however. Ceaseless construction work puts paid to many weekend lie-ins, and always in the background, there is a low roar of the city, like a never-breaking wave. But unlike other cities I have lived in, it is not punctuated by sirens from emergency services or the toots of impatient horns.
The trees at first sight are gigantic compared to my native temperate England. From the rain trees which line the roads to the crazy mess of banyan trees, they are stunning. My favourites are covered in a beard of grass or the plain weird cannon ball trees with flowers as big as your face and trunks bobbled with cannon-ball shaped fruits.
One of the major smells of Singapore was at first a mystery. I couldn't figure out what the strange smell was in supermarkets until I realised it was the packages of custard-coloured segments of durian.
Mangos and pineapples have a sweeter flavour here than those shipped in containers to Britain. My taste buds struggled to place the rambutan, mangosteen, chiku, dragon fruit and jackfruit sold at the super convenient fruit stalls - another difference from home.
Coming from a country with a great tea-drinking tradition, I still find it strange to see take-away plastic bags filled with the beverage.
The first thunderstorm I experienced in the Central Business District was electric. I yelped at the sound of the sky falling down as the wind tore my umbrella inside out and caught up my skirt exposing my thankfully comprehensive underwear to unsuspecting passers- by. I ducked at the sight of forked lightning and learnt never to leave home without an umbrella even if the sky is blue.
After nearly three years here, senses can be dulled to what was once so exotic. But sometimes when the whohoo bird gets going just as the thunder cracks overhead and the air is thick enough to taste, I can feel those first days in Singapore once more.
The writer, who is a Straits Times reporter, is from Britain. She has lived here for almost three years.
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