No sweat like Singporean sweat

Sunrise, the best time for running

I go running first thing in the morning, around 5.30 am. Sometimes, 6. This is for two reasons - 1) it is nice and cool at around 24 degs 2) I have been up since 2 am, on account of the jetlag 3) I love running 4) it gets it out of the way 5) there is no one in the park.

My idea of hell is indeed other people - I hate exercising with other people. One other person, ok, maybe, but when I exercise it is my ALONE time. This is the time I use to just get in the zone and think about everything and nothing. The last thing I want to be doing is conversing about shit while I am running and trying to breathe to stay alive. The whole, oh you should run to be comfortable enough to talk is a load of bollocks. When I am running I am running - not fucking talking.

The best workouts are in Singapore

I love running, as you know, in Ireland, but the best runs and workouts are in Singapore where after five minutes into the activity you are drenched in your own sweat - exercising at close to 30 degs and at 100% humidity means that in no time at all you have worked up this amazing sheen all over you and the sweat is just dripping off your face, your arms, your legs. Your hair is stuck to your face and even though you have practically done next to nothing you feel like you've run a marathon.

And that wonderful red face, that blush - no make up artist will ever recreate it for you. Also, since I have returned to Singapore, all my wrinkles have vanished. Gone. The humidty keeps the skin hydrated and I would have appeared to have become younger by about fifteen years. I tell you, I have discovered the fountain of youth. It is Singapore.

Back in Ang Mo Kio hawker centre

There is also no rain like Singaporean rain - rain in this part of the world is relentless and does not give a fuck. Nope. No fucks given. It will happen so heavily you think that there has been a burst pipe in the skies somewhere and then it will suddenly turn off as if the plumber came along and had a go at the mains. When we set off to the hawker centre for Yong Tau Foo, it was raining so hard that we could hardly see in front of us - and then the rain disappeared, as quickly as it arrived. I love rain like this. Get it over and done with, sort it out and then move on. Unlike the rain in Ireland, when we did have it, that just went on and on and on for days and days and days. Much like the Uliean pipes. Which I hate btw. I know, sacrilege.

One contented bunny

My crazy Unca Gab and my Dad

My Uncle Gab used to be in the Army. Really you couldn't imagine a more unlikely Army person. He is almost certainly one of the funniest people I have ever known. And as you can see, he has a wicked sense of humour. Here he is kissing my Dad, who is apparently not really enjoying it.

That's Auntie Winnie - she is Unca Gab's wife

Pretty Ghin - red rosy cheeks

Sembawang Park - Buah Bodek Gajah - or Elephant Balls fruit

Are elephant balls really that big, asked Oisin.

Oh yes, that is sooooo funny

Eat yer heart out Georgina O Keefe

The majestic trees of Sembawang Park

When I left Singapore 20 years ago, many trees were huge, but not yet mature. They have now come of age and they are really beautiful. In Singapore where there is so little nature, the trees are the silent keepers, the sentinels, the green angels of mercy in our midst.

On hot days, beneath their shade the temperature drops instantly and a wind is constantly blowing. So much so that many maids and other migrant workers find relief and solace under their shade during the weekends. They set up massive picnics where they gather in their various communities and mingle with each other.

It is my great sorrow that I do not know our native trees very well

It is like suddenly listening to a foreign language. In Ireland I can pretty much name most trees there, but here only a handful. Today in AMK park Ghin and I found a nutmeg tree. I couldn't see the fruit, but a small plaque explaining the nutmeg was nearby. I guessed it must be this tree and pulled off a leaf and crushed it and instantly the scent of nutmeg filled my nostrils. It was so lovely. And what was lovelier was lingering after scent. Musty and green and like a forgotten memory, a half remembered song, which made me think of someone I must have loved a long time ago, but whose name I had forgotten. Is that possible?

Two brothers

Bum flossing

In those branches thousands of lives exist and coexist

I was five types of birds there and I was only there for a very short time. Swifts, flying only centimetres above the cut grass hunting, an oriental white-eye, a koel, a drogo, glossy starlings and of course, mynahs - oh yes, and a very bold stork-billed kingfisher, the most common of our kingfishers. We have around 20 types. Yes, that's right, 20.

Singapore does playgrounds and fitness parks really really well.

This was the one thing I did miss when I moved to Ireland. How come they couldn't just put up simple but effective and cheap fitness parks? Why? Why?

Any excuse to do parkour

Epiphyte central

There were precisely 5 people in the park, a relief in people packed Singapore

Having so many people in Singapore is not good for the soul. It just simply isn't. It is impossible to regard people as individuals. And so the experience of the meeting of the other becomes severely degraded and as a result people are curt and rude. It is a form of protection and also just being practical. The likelihood of ever encountering someone again is very very low. So, why bother right? However, this is corrosive, because this way of treating the distant other, the ephemeral other, also results in treating those who you know badly also. It is like bad habits are much easier than good habits to form. To rise above it all is really REALLY hard. And so, interactions with Singaporeans are almost always unpleasant or simply neutral at best. I try my best to smile and be nice and when someone else returns it, I really try to acknowledge that. In the past, this used to get me down. I would emerge from the MRT or a day in town angry and exhausted. Now, I am driven to be gentle, to be kinder. Some people are born being able to be like this all the time. Not I. This is a skill which I have had to acquire and I have only understood it in the past year really. Possibly because of the mad year I have had to endure with my class. I have also watched colleagues who are far better people than I stand there, in the face of what is clear provocation and just sit it out with grace and equanimity. As I get older, I no longer regard worldly success as on objective. Instead being nicer, being kinder, being open hearted, being in love with the world all over again is what I have decided really really counts.

Be like a cat under a banyan tree

How beautiful am I and I not even trying

Ok, now that's just getting awkward

Without doubt this is the coolest climbing frame I have ever seen

The Straits of Johor

Some jungly trees

My dad - the most cheerful person on the planet 

Alex, my nephew - who is a musician 

Aurelia, my niece, who is an artist

Bro and sis

Ghin about to attack the monkey bars

Ghin the circus acrobat

Compared to Sembawang park, this one is in its infancy.
One day, when our children have their children, this park will look like the one in Sembawang
For anything good to happen, just add time

STEAMBOAT

Steam boat is possibly the most perfect food

Jac and Terence have their honeymoon in Arab Street

There are four places I go to when I come home with regularity because they capture the essence of what Singapore is for me. Arab Street, Serangoon Road, Chinatown and Geylang. There places, despite the overcommercialisation of huge parts of their districts, have managed to retain the chaos and emigrant melee. Here new collides with the old and cultures clash and swirl. The need to live and let live results in creativity which crackles with an electrical reality. Everywhere, but everywhere in places like this, the real, the authentic is bursting out of its skin. Here is what Singapore, the real Singapore is to me. Untamed, uncontrolled - where anything is possible. Here people pass you by, but do not judge you - everyone here has a story and everyone, knowing this, respects it, silently. Not a corny, cringey 'respectfulness', that verges on the patronising, but a respectfulness which knows its equal. The difficulty of making it to these shores, the sacrifices left behind, the struggle of the everyday, it is acknowledged without having to say a word. Everyone here is doing something incredible, and they know it. And what's more, they don't have to say it either. Talking about it doesn't not make it easier, being with each other does. And so this is where I go to when I come home to Singapore. This is the Singapore which I hold closest and nearest to my breast.

And here is my sister and husband enjoying a Turkish dessert in the shadow of the Sultan Mosque. As we arrived, the sound of the last call to prayer filled the air. When I heard it, I knew I was home.

As they say, True Blue Singaporeans

Well that takes me to the end of my Singaporean saga thus far. I have mostly been sleeping though. I am averaging 16 hour days. The amount of sleep I have needed has taken me by surprise. I had no idea that I needed so much sleep but my body was a plant which had not seen water for ages. Now you must sleeeeeeeeep. Also I have not had any alcohol since arriving in Singapore nor have I felt the need to have it. In fact when I look at the bottles of whisky and gin I brought for friends from Islay and Jura I feel a bit bokey. I am sure this affliction will pass at some stage, but right now I have not missed the alcohol at all, which makes me very happy. None of my family are regular drinkers and so I am not offered anything to drink. I cannot say the same when I start meeting up with friends though. Heh.

Also I found that my favourite stationery store is still open - just under a different name. I AM SO HAPPY. It feels like everything is right with the world again. As they say, a little amuses the innocent.