The red umbrella

A few days ago, I don't know what I was thinking - or obviously, not thinking - I made the rookie mistake of going out without my umbrella. 

Kid in the baby carrier, bib in the pocket, keys in one hand and phone in the other. I had everything! Except for the umbrella. But well, it was ok! After all, I was only supposed to be out for a few minutes and those clouds were so far away! Or were they?

I wasn't farther than 300 meters from home when it started raining. Not a light rain. The real deal! The real tropical, drops like cherries, rain!

At this moment, I just looked at my son and sadly "covered" him with my hands. Yes, my two huge 10 cm hands! And I started running back home. Run? Well! Have you ever tried running with your baby on your belly (thank you baby carrier), your tiny hands covering him as much as it is possible, shoes soaked and almost no visibility at all? Well, let's just say it's hell on earth!

And in all this darkness, I started believing again! We were saved by the xerox lady and her red umbrella! 

At only 50 meters from our condo, a lady stopped her car in the middle of traffic, got off and came to me with this brand new, still in the plastic bag, red xerox branded umbrella and quickly returned to her car never to be seen again.

At this point, it could have just been a shopping plastic bag that it would have meant everything, just because it made it possible for me to protect my child.

I am so thankful!

That day, just like that, I regained faith in mankind! Faith in the people of Singapore. Faith in the men and women of our world. And even faith in Xerox!

Thank you xerox lady, you made my day!

Good morning and good day!

This really bothers me! 

How can we consider ourselves living in a civilized world if a basic 'good morning' to our neighbors and colleagues is unimaginable?

I was just a little girl when, one day, in a walk with my dad, I asked him why he had said 'hello' to that one neighbor we had. I know, I know, sad question. But in my defense, she really was a bad neighbor and a nasty person. Oh well... And my dad quietly lectured me on how it was polite to do so to everyone, it showed good manners and proper education; and even if the lady wasn't very nice, everyone is entitled to a 'good morning'!

Lesson learned dad! Now, I am totally shocked when this basic principle is ignored. And in Singapore, this basic simple is just non-existent! 

We luckily live in a nice condo where a mix of expats and locals live in a nice community and believe me or not, the only neighbors replying to my 'good morning' are european. It saddens me, I feel like I'm rejecting a group of people saying that, but that's the reality! Here, the only non-european people who will smile and have a kind word for us are the cleaning lady, the pool boy, the security guard, the sitter or the helper. Isn't it sad?

Zowjee asked his coworkers once and they acknowledged that fact and when asked why, they simply replied - and I quote: "it's not natural." So, let me see if I get the story straight: wishing someone a pleasant day isn't natural?! So, rudeness is? Natural? This is just even more unacceptable for me! This is something I'll carry forever as being a Singaporean attitude and not in a good way!

But! Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of nice people in Singapore too! What I came to realize is that, maybe - and this is just my two-cent-worth opinion - they are shy and scared of invading other people's lives, because when you deal with someone professionally or in a regular basis, Singaporeans are very nice people! And they even smile!

What I guess I am here to say is: People! 'Good morning', 'good evening', 'hello' and 'good day' are not invasive at all! So please, use them! You will never over-use them!

Good day to you.

a primeira vez

A vida é feita de primeiras vezes. Algumas marcam-nos mais que outras. Algumas fazem parte de nós.

O primeiro sopro. O primeiro passo. O primeiro sorriso.

Não me lembro do meu primeiro merci, nem do meu primeiro obrigada, mas lembro-me do meu primeiro shukran e do meu primeiro sie sie e do sorriso que os seguiu e do que eu senti. Mas nada se compara à emoção que me preencheu o meu primeiro de nada em língua gestual. Um pouco tímida e muito desajeitada, nunca valorizei tanto a minha paixão pela comunicação, nem nunca falar fez tanto sentido. 

Thank you/Obrigada/Merci

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Speak Up!

As a child, I was so shy, I could easily hear all the adults’ conversations around me without anyone even noticing me. Later, a teenager, I could hardly make friends so afraid that I was of even opening my mouth to say something silly and shame myself. As a young woman, I so awkwardly spoke; I wasn’t always with the right crowd.

But I always had to “speak” my mind, so I wrote, on a diary, at the beginning until my mom found it and (wait for it) judged me and punished me for my private thoughts. This was the end of it! Lucky for me, my father bought me a computer, I was barely 10, but it was what saved me: slowly but surely, I learned how to write my thoughts and save them on a disk protected with a password. Necessity is the mother of inventions right?!

A few months ago, I found my old “thoughts” and it was (sadly) weird to find out that, sometimes, there is still a little and scared girl in me.

Time passing by, I started to build some kind of personae and I started this blog but until a few days ago, I would never openly speak about it or even mention it. For a whole year, it was mine and mine only, and slowly I started to share a few of my things with a couple of friends of mine. But now, I think I am ready, today, I go “public”.

I understand all about the shyness and fright of speaking up, and appreciate your kind words which mean so much to me; which is why I adjusted my posts so anyone can just bullet rank them until you’re up to, publicly, speak up too! 

Thank you!Obrigada! Merci!

It seems I will have to learn how to say Thank you in many other languages.

It makes my day when I see how many of view read me, so really Thank you.

une belle visite

Hier, mon grand-père est passé me faire une petite visite. Ses visites me font super plaisir. Il est heureux. Il vient et il dit combien ça lui fait plaisir de nous voir et pourtant on n’est même pas sûrs qu’il sache vraiment qui nous sommes, mais c’est tellement bon.

Hier, il nous raconte comment il a profité du fait que sa femme (qui est en fait sa fille, ma tante) se soit endormie pour se sauver et venir nous voir. Il était en pantoufles, sans manteau, mais il était heureux. On a discuté pendant quelques minutes. Il cherche ses mots. Il ne comprend pas tout ce qu’on lui dit. Il nous raconte des histoires d’il y a vingt ans. Et puis il se souvient que Mamie n’est plus là, et il pleure. C’est triste de voir quelqu’un qu’on aime, son grand-père perdre la tête, mais en même temps, c’est tellement bon de le voir rire et heureux comme un enfant quand il nous fait le « papi la malice ». Il est génial ce grand-père. Et puis, hors de question de le prendre pour un vieux qui ne sait pas ce qu’il fait, pas la peine de l’aider à descendre les escaliers « alors, si j’ai réussi à monter, je saurai redescendre ».

                                                                             Ah Papi, merci de me faire chaud au cœur comme ça ; merci de me faire sourire.