Singapore, you’re so confusing
I don’t know what to feel about you anymore.
It’s strange, coming back to Singapore once again after 7 days in Bali, the Island of the Gods, they call it. Bali was warm, busy, huge and steeped in culture. Singapore is also an island, but a much smaller one. Also the most expensive city in the world for the third time running, as it turns out.
It’s so confusing to me because Singapore is home, but its so cold and stale that it doesn’t feel like what home should be. Singapore is not contradictory like Uruguay was though. In fact, everything is un-contradictory. Things run like clockwork here. Unlike in Bali, you cannot just ride down the road in the opposite direction and then bribe the traffic police with $10 to let you off. But there’s something lively about the unpredictability of things there that Singapore sorely lacks. Predictability, for a Singaporean like me, is good.. but at the same time it’s like knowing the ending to every story. It’s boring, but safe. You know that you won’t end up in a traffic accident or lose all your money in 24 hours.
I don’t know what to feel about this country, my country. I rejoice at coming home to the sheer efficiency of a place that just works (from plane to home in 1 hour), but within the day I itch to go back out again. Everyone looks down. I don’t know if I can stay here for the rest of my life — but if I do, what do I do with myself? I suppose if I just be here long enough, I will slide back into that warm bath. Lower my eyes onto a screen in my hands. Stop looking, and get into auto pilot mode.