Adventure Wednesdays!

I’ll admit, sometimes I need a little motivation when it comes to living out my dream of being a dedicated adventurer. Every day I walk great distances in even greater heat and humidity, navigate crowded trains, and am forced to assimilate to Asian culture when, to be quite honest, I sometimes just don’t want to (I mean, seriously, what red-blooded American mom wouldn't occasionally become frustrated by a grocery store's lack of macaroni and cheese and applesauce, but over abundance of prawn crackers?). So, yes, there are times I don’t get wonderfully excited by the idea of exploring… of stepping even farther outside of my already teetering comfort zone.

But (please the excuse the analogy here, since it might sound kind of corny), I’ve found that learning to live abroad is a lot like learning to mountain bike. When I first started mountain biking, I was terrified. I fell a lot, and the more I fell, the slower I tended to ride. For some reason, the more cautiously I rode, the more I fell. It was a vicious cycle (no pun intended). Eventually, I avoided any trails that had rocks and roots on them… which kind of defeats the purpose of mountain biking. But then I learned that the faster I rode, the better I did. If I took the obstacles head on and pedaled hard as I approached them (rather than riding my brakes), I remained upright on my bike and—wow!—discovered that mountain biking was actually pretty darn fun! Are the trails still scary at times? Yes. But now they’re navigable.

The more time I spend in Singapore, the more I realize this same basic principle applies to life abroad: Fight your initial urge to slow down, and instead take a swift and direct path straight into your new surroundings. And go figure, the more I do it, the more comfortable I become with life here. Is it still scary and frustrating at times? Heavens, yes. But it all becomes increasingly more navigable.

So, to overcome my days of trepidation, a couple of months ago I initiated “Adventure Wednesdays.” Every Wednesday (NO EXCUSES!), Dagny and I head out to explore a new part of the island. Sometimes I have our adventures planned out days in advance. Other times, I pull out my Singapore guidebooks over a Wednesday morning coffee, while Dagny slurps soggy Cheerios beside me, and make a split-second decision as to where we will be heading that day.

Heading out on a Wednesday morning train. I took this picture because I thought it was kind of funny how everyone in my train car was tuned into their phones or iPods at the same time. Very little talking on the trains here... except Dagny. She makes sure everyone knows she's aboard.

Some Wednesdays, I’ll admit, are pretty low key. I’m not entirely sure the actual destinations would even count as “Adventures,” but anyone who knows how directionally inept I am will probably nod their heads in understanding when I say the journeys to the different locations are certainly adventurous enough.

An example of a low key adventure: On exceptionally hot days, Dags and I sometimes set out to find cool new splash pads and fountains to play in. These are quite possibly a mom’s best friend. Unlike a pool or playground, I don’t have to constantly waddle, climb, swim, or scurry after Dagny. There are no intimidating metal ladders or scary deep ends to worry about, which of course are two things my daughter is helplessly drawn to.

We found this fountain over in Marina Barrage a couple of Wednesdays ago…

Dagny with her friends Camden and Marrietta. Dags is the one in the sombrero.

I can only imagine what Dagny was babbling about to Camden... "You think peas are bad, my mom tried to get me to eat crawfish the other day. I was like, Mom, you must be crazy!"

Some Adventure Wednesdays turn out to be total busts, though this has fortunately been a rare occurrence. For instance, I read about Malay Village and their expansive fish market in one of my guidebooks. The write-up touted it as a great place to check out truly authentic, Singaporean culture. Well, when I got there, the fish market was shut down, and Malay Village didn’t appear to be doing too well. Most of the storefronts were boarded up, and the few people who were there stared at Dagny and I with looks of confusion—and more than one or two frowns. I could tell the shopping district used to be quaint and picturesque, but now it looks (and smells) a little more like a shantytown. The paint was peeling off the buildings, sections of wrought iron fence were propped toward the sidewalk at menacing angles, and the alleys were full of headless manikins. Kinda creepy. Needless to say, we didn’t stay long.

Malay Village. Probably won't be heading back anytime soon.

Another Wednesday, Dags and I ventured into Little India, which, as it turns out, is not so little. Disembarking the train, I really did feel like I was entering India, sans the immobilizing crowds (or what I suppose India is like, from listening to Brad’s stories and watching episodes of Outsourced). The buildings were painted in a rainbow of vibrant colors. Shop doors were standing wide open, and racks of beautiful saris and beaded purses covered the sidewalks out front. There was barely enough room for me to eek through even without my monstrous BOB stroller, so most of the time Dagny and I had to walk in the street.

Colorful buildings. This was the less populated part of Little India. 

Each of the stores sold very similar items—a lot of statues of Indian gods and bins full of colorful wrist bangles. And everywhere I went, I heard Indian music. What fun! Not many of my adventures come with an upbeat soundtrack playing in the background. Makes me feel like I’m in a movie or something. And I’ll tell you what, it’s next to impossible not to kind of dip and shimmy as you walk when Indian music is blaring up and down the street.

This really isn't a very good picture of the stores, but I'm including it anyway. The narrow side streets with shops and vendor carts were much cooler, but they were also full of delivery trucks at this time of day, so I couldn't seem to get any good pictures of them, either.

I think one of the things I was most impressed with was the number of different restaurants I saw. Back in the US, an Indian restaurant is usually just labeled as “Indian.” But in Little India, my options were much more specific… Northern Indian, Nepalese, Tibetan, Bengali, Punjabi… the list goes on.

Dagny and I planned a visit to the Hindu temple Sri Veeramakaliamman (Yep! I told you I would make it there! Now say the name ten times fast). I’ve attached a picture of the front because my written description would fall way short. It’s pretty spectacular.

But the sidewalk was as far as we got on our expedition. It turns out I wasn’t appropriately dressed to go inside. No, I wasn’t wearing a bikini top or a t-shirt that read “Jesus Rocks”—it was simply a sleeveless shirt. We’ll make it back one day, with more pictures to share and hopefully an interesting story or two, so if you can’t say Sri Veeramakaliamman yet, don’t worry… you still have a little time to practice.

Before leaving Little India, I stopped by a henna stand. I thought the result was artful and kind of cool… for a few hours. The ink lasts for about a week, and every day of that week I kept thinking I had something like mud (or overflow from a baby diaper) on the back of my hand.

It was a wonderful day, and I look forward to going back, hopefully with Brad this time!

Dags at the end of our Little India trip.

I actually have another Adventure Wednesday to write about, but I’m beginning to see that this entry is already getting a bit lengthy. Come back in another day or two to hear all about Dagny’s first word (aside from Mama and Dada) and to find out what Buddha’s brain looks like.

Yep… that’s right… Buddha’s brain. For real. Can’t wait!