A Singaporean In Australia

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I'm in a bad position to compare the education systems between Singapore and Australia. I have never been schooled in Australia at any level before. The education system in Singapore must have evolved significantly since my school days decades ago. My young daughter hasn't gone to school yet. I don't have the facts and figures but if I may use life in general as a comparison, do we want to base a successful life on how many properties we acquired, how much food we consumed or how many women we bedded? How then, will we want to use statistics to judge a successful education?

I know there are school of thoughts on the radical ends on this. Parents may even tell me I will turn out the same when it is my turn to send my daughter to school. After all, all parents want their children to do well in life. So sending them to the best possible school the family can afford is the duty of the parents. This kind of mentality is not unique to Singaporeans. In Perth, I can see many parents of different nationalities taking pains to move to an, in my opinion, unaffordable suburb within the 'catchment' area of a reputable school. These will be the kind of school in Singapore that display banners to announce to the public how many gold awards their previous batch of students achieved or what was the highest PSLE score. 

That kind of practice always befuddled me. Why are schools advertising to make themselves appear more attractive? Are education staff in more popular schools paid more than staff of less popular schools? I thought teachers were paid on the same structure under the MOE system. Then, why would a school chose to advertise inflate their cohort beyond their means? So what if a school fills below their vacancies? Retrench teachers or close down the school? Should public education be ran like businesses, akin the growth-at-all-cost national mantra that has seeped into sectors such as transport and healthcare in awry. Is it right that a school should act like a service provider and the parents, their customers? If the success of a school (and therefore the careers of their teaching staff ) is based on meaningless KPIs, what education will the young really receive under such a paradigm?

Regrettably, this is yet another case of willing buyer, willing seller. If parents do no condone such a system, it simply cannot exist. It is natural that parents want their children to be relevant to society so that they can find means to support themselves and give themselves a comfortable life. No parents want their children to suffer yet ironically parents subject their children to endless suffering with their obsession with grades, knowing very well in the working world, the most capable worker gets ahead and only the fittest survive. Grades have little to do with surviving in the wild corporate jungle unless of course, parents designed their offspring to wear white.

So it's not about grades but the kind of people you are getting your children to mix around with? Mix with the rich kids, so maybe they can grow up and share some lobangs with them, since kawan kawan mah. That's the stupidest thing I ever heard from parents. Parents with such mentality will stop their kids from mixing with the 'bad poor kids' in the neighbourhood, oblivious that the parents of the kids they tried to hook their children up are advocating their kids to do the same. All you can achieve by subjecting your kids to this shit is to drive up their sense of lack and inferior complex. Many of these rich kids have the world under their feet and their lives will be neatly paved for them. Your children, however, lost the chance to learn to be resourceful or sharpen up their survival skills by mixing with this lot.

The above is my personal opinion. I share this not to convince. Neither do I appreciate any persuasion to change my mind. Before I end, I will like to share a post written by a school principal in Perth. Throughout my education in Singapore, I have never come across any school principals who inspired me in similar fashion. I wish I had such a school principal. Trust me, your children will wish the same.

Japanese massage girl was so-so. The white fags were right after all. Those ATBs who didn't speak a word of engrish were talents! At least they seemed to be able to knead my pain away when I was in Singapore. Curiously I revisited Mindy's thread again and read the positive reviews about her massaging skills. Hmm, I didn't hold it against her. She was trained more for relaxation massage, not remedial massage. Also, I found some 'reputable' businesses here offering massage for $100 per hour. So ... that makes the home business folks cheap when they asked for $70-80 per hour. No wonder Mindy's customers were delighted to have her around Perth and claimed she was a bargain!

Nabei, can each of you in Singapore just donate a few hundred dollars to me so that I can start a massage parlour a healing sanctuary or something? It looks like I could pay the bills with just 5 customers a day. Then I could go around hooded like Green Arrow breaking my friends' arms in the dark with high dexterity and then my business card magically appears in their letterbox in their times of grief. Profit! Hmm. This suggestion will only leave me with less friends rather than more money. Maybe Duchess' daddy's suggestion of setting up a online pay-pal donation box should be considered. He reckoned people should be paying me for my 'advice', any token sum will do. However I am very hesitant in doing so because I don't want to lose the liberty to speak my mind. Just imagine what our PAP ministers will say to the PM in Parliament if they are paid an ordinary Singaporean's salary, a few thousand bucks per month. Party whip or not, the PM should be thankful if a plate of Humless Mee Siam doesn't fly his way. With a million dollar salary though, woah - that's a difficult story. The ministers will lick the table legs clean if they have to, much less dispute policies. So if I am replying the email with donations in my mind, what will I end up saying?

Having said that, it can be fun trying it out for a week and see what happens. Not that I am expecting $70k to flow into my bank account in a week, it would be a brand new inspiration if I get a surprising amount say, $20 a week to pump up the fuel tank. That wave of inspiration could be translated to a new blog called The Singaporean Online Beggar. If anyone claimed to be inspired by a mundane story of a migrating Singaporean with bad English, surely Singaporean Online Beggar (SOB) will melt hearts? I can even imagine the blog tagline already. "No camo, no props, no fake sunglasses or bad singing." Hmm. I apologise. I shouldn't let the bag out of the cat. Someone once told the public, "There are no beggars in Singapore." In Singapore, beggars without licences are illegal vendors. Beggars with licences are street buskers. Thus, there are no beggars in Singapore. Lest I incur the wrath of the authorities for suggesting Singaporean beggars actually exists, my new blog should be called Singaporean Online Busker (still SOB)

Seriously, any investors willing to set up a massage center with me? I can't stand the girly names of the centres here. Such as Lotus and Lime Massage or Bodyriches Massage. We need some manly steel in this industry. Let's call it the Hand Smith or Paladin's Touch. Or maybe a more Aussie business name, Jim's Massage or Sausage 'N' Massage. Yes, overtime is getting to me. I need rest.

By morning, I couldn't move my neck and I went to work with pain. I knew I was in for a torrid time. On top of that my entire back was stiff. It was a long long day at work. I was in so much discomfort that I texted a random person I found on the internet doing massage service.

She charged $60 per hour. If you think that was exorbitant, she was already the cheapest around. Many of them ask for $70-80 an hour, plus an additional $20-$25 to come to your house. End up she was a young Japanese lady on Working Holiday Visa. She rode a scooter around despite winter. I read somewhere that little girls in Japan were already conditioned to the cold by wearing short skirt uniform. Despite my gut feel part of the practice was for perverted reasons, it seemed to work for that Japanese girl at least. Mindy told me she took a massage course for 3 months in Perth and began her work freelance. At $60 an hour, the scooter rider put many tough tradie bengs in their Ford Falcon to shame. No need for fancy utes, cool tool sets, 4 year apprenticeships or working under the fucking sun. Just massage oil and hands. I should quit my damn job and learn how to squeeze human flesh. Many of these trained healing hands operate in their own homes too. No shop rental to pay. No warehouse to upkeep. Maybe I could even go to China and get ATBs to pay me for IELTS lessons then apply 457 for them to work for me.

Despite going through the motions, the boys and I managed to finish a sizable amount of work. Supplies were still streaming in and I wondered what would the boss say when he saw our wage bill if we continue our overtime through the following week. One thing for sure, we were not going to work during the coming weekend. Not even if they pay triple. Well, unless they were paying me Lee Hsien Loong's rates. But again, on that kind of pay scale, there was no need to do overtime because there was virtually no living needs left to buy. So you could understand why higher mortals just couldn't understand why peasants prefer to retire and not appreciate their hard work of creating jobs openings for the elderly. Have money also don't want to earn, then complain no money and want to take CPF that wasn't there. My good friend used to tell me how hard a Singapore minister's life can be. Jam packed schedules, including weekends and public holidays. And I agree losing one's privacy can be sorrowful, you can't pick your nose in public and what can be worse than that? One can even compare a minister's job to a prostitute - get fucked for 10-15 years and retire gloriously. We have to consider for a moment while the prostitute buy houses in her homeland and our minister buy islands elsewhere, what can the average Singaporean do after working 15 years? We should be happy enough to remain employed. For the less fortunate ones who needs to tide over more difficult times, can you blame them for asking for their CPF, their own money?

Maybe, just maybe I should come back to work this weekend to make hay when the sun still shines. I'm not pessimistic, just realistic. Australia life has been amazingly great for me so far but I am under no illusion that this can last forever. Anyone who guarantee you this sort of thing with conviction is nothing but a fool. You heard the term, "100% safe," often enough. We should make condom manufacturers insure us against being fathers if we use their products but no - not even these guys claimed their products to be "100% safe." So when some shaggy maggy guy quoted only to be misquoted to having assure me that my money is "100% safe", my balls shrank and wrinkled up like a raisin for a week.

I was amazed how well I multitask. I had to attribute that to my motherland, who trained me so well for this kind of thing. I hope people here were secretly admiring me for my feats. It would extinguish their ill feelings that I was being paid more than them for seemingly doing the same job. In my point of view, I was employed for daily routines but was paid to handle tough times like this. If anyone thought they could do that better than me, they were welcome to take my place. No hard feelings.

In reality, when you issue such a challenge, many wouldn't take it up. Most of us like to have the best of both worlds. To be paid double for the same work we are doing sounds like a good idea but even if we change ourselves, work doubly hard and take on more responsibilities, that is simply not going to happen in any environment. We have to face it that hard fact. While changing ourselves for the better is a good thing, we have to understand we need to change our environment as well. Having said that, a change of environment doesn't necessarily guarantee better money. Many Singaporeans for example, are unable to find a job here in Perth that pays them as well as their old jobs in Singapore. For someone who was clearly underpaid for my previous jobs in Singapore, it was a no-brainer. I would even make more money stacking up ice cream tubs in the supermarket here (even after tax) than what my last job in Singapore paid me for. For the "unfortunate" ones who are being paid so well in Singapore, they find it difficult to come to terms with getting a huge pay cut if they are to move to Australia and begin from the bottom again. Well at least they could afford their COE and eat three meals at restaurants for comfort.

By Day 6, workers started to slacken visibly. I could accept a slow down in performance but not taking longer breaks. I didn't expect them to work without taking breaks like myself. I was covering for the machinist's extended break time so that I could keep the machine running. In Singapore, we call this buay zi dong. I wasn't sure if Afghanis understand the meaning of such a concept. If they did, they were doing a good job being just that. For the first time, I instructed the other worker to "tell the guy to get back to work." When there was little work going, I allowed them to have unspeakable lengths of break. So I expected payback when the company needed it. That was only fair and square. I wished my bosses back in Singapore stood by such a mentality. Unfortunately they kept taking and gave nothing back in return.

Needless to say, he came meekly back and resumed work. There was nothing need to be said. We all knew how much we took and there was nothing to argue about. If I ever run my own business in future, I would always manage based on the 拉长补短 concept, managing based on conscience and goodwill to eliminate the need of lipservicing or shallow motivational talks.

Some people thought that it didn't make sense to wake up at 4am to work overtime. They reasoned since I had the freedom to decide, didn't it make more sense to do a 7am - 5.30pm shift instead of a 5am - 3.30pm shift? More traffic during 7am, more traffic during 5.30pm. More time spent on the road. Less time to sleep. I don't know which make more sense. If I love watching the driver in front of me digging his nose from his rear mirror, I might as well

return to Singapore.

This morning it seemed like fog engulfed the entire Perth metropolitan. I could hardly see 1km away on road. I would half expect a walking corpse suddenly appear within visibility as I cruise through ROE highway on high beams. The Winter cold really bit. It was about 2 degrees Celsius and didn't do our hard fingers any good on the metal studs we were dealing with, even with gloves on. Put your hands into a pot of iced water for 5 minutes and try to do some work right after to understand how it feels - if you can even last 5 minutes in that icy pot. That would be my argument the next time I hear someone in the office grumble over the amount of overtime we were being paid. The same people who scurried back to their heated office the moment they were done talking to me out there.

The same goes for Singaporeans who asked me how to get a job in Australia from their comfort zones in Singapore. I am not saying that is impossible to do. Shuang Yun did that. A Malaysian girl I met during the Bak Zhang making lesson I was invited to did that. So I cannot tell you here that it is impossible to land yourself a job before you make a move. But how? Apply for jobs lah. Is there any dark arts that you think I may know about? In fact since we are at it, I do. Are you willing to pay the price, at my cost? Probably not. So get your butts and do the conventional way by applying for jobs like any other people. You need plenty of diligence, patience, perseverance and luck. I've given you the ingredients for the magic potion and it's up for you to brew it and drink it up like how a Gummy Bear drinks his juice, by downing it like a boss and not spoon fed.

We seemed to be fighting a losing battle at work. While we were beginning to take control of our own production, the supplies from overseas was coming at a rate faster than we could check and clear them out. To handle these, we need to double our manpower not work extra 2-4 hours a day. That was unfeasible at the moment because extra untrained hands would only create more work. Just reminded me how often ex-military men were put up to handle municipal matters somewhere else. Asking a butcher to weave.

For those who have the habit of souring everyone's Monday even more by posting how much you hate Mondays, think about a Monday after you worked over the weekend. Turning up at 5am on such a Monday must be the mother of all Mondays. Fuck, I didn't even wake up at 4am during my NS days. Perhaps the odd 1-2 times to prepare for an exercise at most. Here, I was on my 4th day and it started to feel unpleasant.

Since Steph has always been wondering how much money I make, I might as well clear this once and for all. I'm being paid $30 odd dollars per hour so that 2 extra overtime hours we had been putting in would yield me $40+ per hour. That wasn't big money for such work trust me on that - I would justify that later. Still it felt good for that 2 hours being paid like a tradie but the feel good factor didn't last long. Even the thoughts of making extra money fail to motivate further. I knew this would happen under the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility. I was just waiting to see how long it would take before it kicked in. Somebody even dared to tell the public that being paid more money would prevent corruption. As good as saying more sex prevents infidelity. Bullshit couldn't be distilled purer.

Monday was a drag because the young boys were back at work. I had to spend time making them happy instead of clearing the bog. It was probably one of the worst Mondays in my 1000 over days here. Still I managed to keep myself happy during the drive home at 3.30pm. No traffic lights stopped me for more than 1 cycle. A consistent 100km/h on the freeway. The Darling Scarp on the horizon. Trees taller than buildings. 20 degrees Celsius at mid afternoon. I couldn't ask for more for a decent ritual to cleanse the afflicted mind.

The workers were starting to piss me off at work. I didn't expect full efficiency at Day 4 of overtime but stopping to joke and not taking work seriously crossed my line. Trust me, there couldn't be a supervisor more accommodating or lenient than me here. I expected the fuse to blow soon at this rate. I would have to work doubly hard, not just to catch up on their slack but to demonstrate to them we should be ethical and responsible enough to practice an honest day's job for an honest day's wage. We were given the rare liberty at workplace these days, to work and plan our timings ourselves. We should know very well we would lose this privilege if we couldn't justify why we deserved it.

Working on a Sunday brought back unhappy memories in Singapore. Someone who was into spiritual and zen stuff told me that clutter is bad for our lives. I fully agree with him because I feel really pissed off whenever my environment is cluttered. Most of us don't realise it and learn to live with it. Living with it is simply an act of acceptance but by no means we are better off with it. For eg, people will come to terms with eating Fukushima seafood and there will be a day when it doesn't bother them anymore. But that doesn't mean health isn't compromised.

While I love living with less, my spouse was the polar opposite and from the way it looks I am fighting a losing battle. However, the zen master told me that mental clutter is much worse than physical clutter. I knew I was something who hate confined spaces and clutter but that was something new. "Mental clutter," he said, "can bring forth physical sickness and diseases and even drive a man beyond his sanity." Many of us were shrugging off too many issues that bother us mentally. In truth many of these little niggles remain in a corner of of minds, snowballing, multiplying like cancer cells.

In a nutshell, I will make sure the next Sunday I will be working on will be a long, long time from this day unless I finally decide to embark on my life-dream of starting my own business.

We were even more productive than the previous day because I decided to do a 'stand-by-bed' with all the crates we were handling in the car park, since not a single neighbouring company opened for business. With that, we were able to find our items a lot faster and our forklift could move around with ease with the additional space freed up.

Imagine the possibilities with space in the broader sense of the word. 

Think of the bigger picture. 

Dream ... and follow it.

Day 2 was Saturday. I woke early on Saturdays before to help friends move stuff or things like that but it had been nearly 2 years since I worked on a Saturday.

It was much worse back then. There was no comparison. During those days, I worked with pain every night and couldn't even move my fingers properly by every morning the next day. I felt tired but at least I wasn't in pain. From the working point of view, coming in on a Saturday was great. As there was nobody around except just the three of us, there was no pesky interruptions to my work and thought process. Soon, we were able to get in the 'zone' and work like demons. We ended up producing much more, though it could be better and that would be sorted out during my quiet morning drives. 

Talking about my morning drives, I felt like I owned the road. There was an odd car or two but nothing within 1 km from me at all times. You know, I have a strange way of measuring personal comfort. I was looking for a place where random human beings are not within 5m radius from me most of the time. They could say all they wanted to or even get academics to prove that Singapore heaven on earth with charts and graphs. I would only give those attempts ratings based on my own comfort measuring framework. They got a "Middle Finger" rating.

We ended work at 10am because I needed to rush back to bring little Albany to her swimming class. That was something I would not compromise work for. I could make allowances perhaps for a few times but I promised myself if that happens too often, it will be time to say goodbye to the job. Promise. I nearly fell asleep watching Albany and Jen going through the lesson but their smiles were too good to miss.

I slept like a log with Albany on my chest after a late lunch.

Odd that I was asked the same question by two people on the same night. The question was, "Why did you leave Singapore?" The first was posed by Cutearmpit when we were chatting in GW2, after Tucky claimed that I was 'anti-PAP' and warned me not to get sued. It was an amusing moment for me because I couldn't imagine anyone leaving their country because he hates his government. Perhaps over the years, the people have been reading too much into condescending statements such as, "Not happy with Singapore, migrate lah!" With the countless times I came across a person who genuinely feared the idea of migrating, I couldn't fathom how another could decide to leave his country in a willful fit.

Alright. Perhaps I was wrong. My maternal grandfather was one who allegedly did just that. According to mum, my grandfather was born to a rich family. Needless to say, being an ah sia kia, my grandpa had it easy in life. The fateful day came when my great-grandfather apparently had enough and crushed grandpa's best fighting cricket to death. In a fit of anger, grandpa migrated to Malaysia, dragging his young wife along with him. After that, he was caught in the WWII years and never returned to China since. He passed away in Malaysia.

Again, according to mum, grandpa was a man with a wide variety of talents that sound like stuff of the legends to me. He was proficient in herbology with ability to identity wild herbs and concoct them into medicine. He was good in agriculture, a good cook, weather reader, a fearless hunter and a dog trainer. A man who raised a family of 6 in a thick jungle in Kuantan must be well versed in survival skills as well. Indeed he could craft like an engineer, slaughter animals like a butcher and heal animals like a veterinarian. Aside from his manly hobbies, he was a people leader who rose from the rank of a plantation supervisor to a land owner and businessman.

That was where the reason why Grandpa left China didn't quite connect with who we knew he was. Would an ah sia kia be well equipped with multiple life skills of such levels? There was little to suggest the story was dubious because much of it was secretly revealed by my grandmother who was a indignant observer as a young innocent woman then. If so, did migration bring out the man in Grandpa? I guess we will never know.

The second person who asked me the same question later in the night was my poly mate Allen. My usual answer was that I found Singapore too crowded for my liking. That was the simplest answer I could offer anyone without raising further questions as I wasn't too keen in participating in another PAP debate. Not that my friends would even bother to listen or believe when I told them I was against the policies, not the people or political parties making them, anyway. So the lesser said, the better. Besides, my life isn't about the PAP. So shouldn't yours be.

The answers to the question of, "Why did you leave Singapore?" was never going to be a straightforward one. No, I didn't leave in a fit like Grandpa did either. When I was unemployed for 8 months in 2008, I had a lot of time to stroll the quiet streets of Singapore during office hours. I remembered telling myself how much I loved my serenity of Singapore but regret how it turned into a circus after office hours. If I say there is something wrong about living in Singapore, I will not be telling the truth. Singapore remains one of the best countries to live in the world. So the decision to leave ran much deeper than that. It was carefully thought over during my long period of unemployment that year, far from a willful move that some friends might assumed up till today.

 

Allen is temporarily unemployed currently. Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence that he contacted me again to find out more. Understandably, he was concerned about find a job. After all, he is a father like me and can care only about himself no longer. It was bedtime by then so I sent him a link and concluded, "You can drive right? So you have no excuse." After subjecting ourselves through the confounding decision making process, it is important to make a complete mind shift so that we can focus on the goal itself. In such a situation, in my personal opinion, the Occam's razor is the best approach to adopt. Just like what Grandpa did.

 

You fuckin' crushed me cricket, me fuckin' go.

Things were getting impossible to handle at the factory. The boss told me to do whatever I needed to get things back in order. He instructed me to make it the first priority to ask the workers if they could work overtime. Over here, we have to ask. In Singapore we were told. Nicely at best but still told.

The workers were happy to do some overtime. Who would say no to more money? Under the labour laws here, they would be paid 1.5 times their usual rate. We would leave those debates on how protectionism will eventually bring Australia to its knees on day to another day. At the first day at least, the workers were happy to make 23 x 1.5 = A$34.50 per hour for the upcoming overtime week. One of them just bought a 3x2 house at Kelmscott on nearly 800sqm of land for A$350k. So any additional income would be welcome. The other was planning to marry a girl he met in Indonesia on his holiday and needed to raise her dowry. I didn't even need to ask.

So we started immediately and worked 2 hours extra on Thursday and knocked off at 530 pm instead of the usual 330 pm. Our 4am hrs ordeals would start on Friday. That meant we had to go to bed at 9pm to get at least 7 hours of sleep. It was tough adjusting to that timing so I ended up cutting into my bed time. I would share what I thought about this in one of the next posts perhaps.

We had done a lot of overtime before but what we were up against wasn't anything we faced previously. It would be a long, long week for me.

For almost 2 years, I have been writing a short account of my feelings about Perth every consecutive month. Such an entry was usually done on every 17th which was the day I made the big leap. After that, I stopped doing so for such a long time, a friend pointed out I got my 'number of months' wrong when I finally resumed the practice. As usual, I couldn't be bother to correct it. Only just yesterday I received a comment on one very old post from a Grammar Nazi who claimed it was painful for he or she to make it past the first paragraph of that post. Interestingly, the no-lifer obviously did, because he or she bothered to correct my expressions beyond the first paragraph. I would have respect that if his or her eyes bleed after struggling through the first paragraph and royally fucked off from the site forever as assumed but that didn't happen. So while such folks expect a quick correction by an embarrassed blogger, all they would get is a mid finger salute.

If I were to seek perfection, there would be easily 50% less posts on the blog due to the time used on editing. It isn't that I write for the sake of writing, choosing quantity over quality. Substance is never a consideration when I started the blog. It has always been about penning what was on my mind at the point in time and will probably remain as so such that the content will not be diluted or altered by time. In that way, I will be able to look at myself through the passage of time. To me, that is the most meaningful way of keeping time journals. As such, most blog posts sounds as thoughts by a normal human being - not a editorial or report. If anyone think their thoughts in perfect grammar and sentence structure with flawless expressions, I will like to meet him.

TT sent me a screenshot and reminded me that I had lived my 1000th day in Perth a week ago or so. That worked out to be 33 months today. That is a very long time to be away from Singapore. I know I sound like a broken record but I'll to say this again. I am surprised I last that long. 

Before I embarked on this adventure, we had no grand plans to 'settle down' or 'make it big' in Perth. I was sick of being sick in Singapore and I saw my pregnant wife working till 2am and told me, 'No choice,' because 'in audit it's like dat.' So I showed her what was a choice. The choice to let it go, to quit, to live. So we left without a plan. Please don't mistaken that as a gungho statement. My intention was to spend 2 years in Perth so that we will be eligible to 'renew' our PR then go back to Singapore to resume our lives. That would buy us another 5 years to decide or prepare if we want to make a move to Australia for good.

I remembered telling Jen, "We don't have to make any money. So long as we 'break even' our daily expenses with money earn from fruit picking or whatever jobs I could land myself, it'll do." We thought that at worst, it would be an expensive no-pay honeymoon. After two years, I will then bring my family back to Singapore with tail behind my legs, well prepared with answers for friends such as, "Australia is racist," or "Tax is too high."

Our unexpected pregnancy threw my blueprint straight into the gutter. Having a child has been a life-changing event. Not only the arrival of Albany changed the way we live and move around, it changed our perspectives towards many things and made us behave as a strange and irrational manner. They call this species parents. As parents, we are no longer as mobile as before and have the tendency to settle where we are, building a nest out of animal instinct. For now, I couldn't be sure if the original 2 year plan is permanently shelved.

Although I was told that Perth is one of the best place in the world to raise a child, I come across Singaporeans parents contemplating a return to Singapore so that their children can receive 'an education.' Another good friend of my family will be returning by the end of Spring. In reality, there is nothing permanent about permanent residency. Sometimes, the borders are just in the minds. In fact, a visitor named Johari even encouraged me to do a trilogy of Singapore, Malaysia and Australia like he did. I cannot say that isn't possible in future if I could figure out some sources of borderless income.

There are a lot of new thoughts on Perth but I don't feel like dragging the post. Maybe I'll share them on the 34th month if I could get my fat ass moving then.

Dear S,

Big apology for missing out your email and didn't reply your last email for 1 year. I am really poor in managing my emails and I believe yours is not the only one I missed out. Thank you for writing to me again and update me of your interesting journey. 

Good job on the student visa thing. You guys must be one of the oldest students I've known here. Hahaha. xD I know it wasn't the best idea to do so but at least it seemed easier than parachuting down by the night. So, congratulations for getting a state sponsorship!

Yes, we did our applications ourselves because we were pissed poor. It was straightforward actually, just very tedious. Since you have already done all your submissions, there is little to worry about. During my days, (and I believe it still applies) there is nothing to do but wait after the submission. Your cases will be left in the queue will not be processed until a Case Officer is assigned to your case. The case officer will guide you through from there step by step. They will only request for your health check certificates after he has run through your submissions, find no documents missed out and certify your eligibility. In other words, by the time you are asked to submit a health check or police clearance, you are good to go. Else they wouldn't even go there. 

Hmm, it will be nice if you can share with me what professional help you need. With due respect to Sydney Librarian's awesomeness, she cannot repair water leaks or paint your house. With any luck, you may even find your man or woman who happen to be reading this. Maybe Ah Yun can even give you some advice. She is my agent in Sydney because she came to Perth and ate the food I cooked twice, poisoned to do my bidding.

Hope I somewhat answered your question to satisfaction. Good luck and keep your updates coming.

It has been a long long time since I last wrote about actual human beings I met here. Didn't ask for permission to write about them. But again, I didn't ask for permission from PM Lee to write about him. I supposed no one really like to be featured in a blog like a case study. I am one of them because I hate the feeling of meeting someone new and he or she goes, "Oooooooor, so you are that guy ah!" The louder the recognition cry, the louder the voice in my mind will say, "Diam lah." How else should I react? Show them both my forehands, puff out my chest and exclaim, "Yeah, that's me. Satki bo?"

While there were some who might be secretly interested how I saw their stories from my point of view, there might be people who might be pissed off because I shared their stories without permission. It didn't matter really. That is a good 'Meet asingaporeanson at your own risk' warning for new people unlucky enough to come across my path. Besides, in my personal opinion, whoever still left in your life after you pissed off everyone and anyone often enough, is what I call a friend. That's why I have a few friends and will probably die a loner like my dad. No regrets. Dad is wise after all, despite his stupidity. How does that work out? Well, One can be intelligent but unwise throughout his life so why not the other way round?

I met Jo online after she contacted me from Facebook. There was the usual mutual migration Q&A, with her checking out the technicalities and for me, just being kpo why she decided to leave Singapore. She asked to use my mailing address because she wanted to bring her dog over. Still full of regrets over the mysterious death of my healthy beloved dog just 6 months after my departure, I agreed to help her immediately.

Jo worked as a nurse in Singapore. I believed that was enough said. As a nurse, she was qualified to go anywhere in the world and bring along her spouse, dog, cat, or goldish if she wanted to. So a nurse could but should he or she? Like I said, the highest count of Singaporeans I met here were nurses and teachers. We don't need to have a high level of cultural awareness to know that these jobs are regularly shunned in Singapore, probably for many good reasons too. I believe I don't have to elaborate on these.

I am no stalker but my friend Grace made it too difficult for me by regularly posting her feelings towards her parents on Facebook. They were often touching and would probably make an adult cry. I had been asking the same question once in a while throughout the 7 odd years since I met her in Perth, "Have you considered returning to Singapore?" That was asked out of curiosity during the early years and then after I knew how much she missed her parents' company every moment. Her answer would be quick and firm, never a hint in a dent in her unwavering stance. The disapproval about Singapore policies and stuff aside, the most practical issue was about her job. Bread and butter is serious business in Singapore. We need to work hard to live in Singapore, not having the option of going fishing or plucking out wild fruits and vegetables if we wanted to. The manner Grace described her job at SGH was convincing enough for her to keep her in Perth, heart-broken from being apart from her parents. By far, Grace wasn't the only nurse who shared the horror stories from the Deep. Remember Ninja Nurse? Her family is doing very well by now. Even the pretty young nurse Janis we met only once decided to say, "Enough was enough," only in her early 20s.

I would make a wild assumption that working conditions for a nurse in Singapore did not improve since Grace's or Ninja Nurse's days. So it was no surprise that little Jo decided to come too, with her spouse, to enjoy an exciting adventure being both unemployed and experience the nerves of slightly living on the edge. Within two weeks or so though, I received a text message from Jo. She told me she was not feeling too happy because companies seemed not hiring, 'even for fast-food restaurants', and times were bad because all government hospitals were instructed by the Australian government to freeze headcounts until June this year. The couple only brought enough money to last themselves 6 months in Perth and the clock was ticking.

Like I told Lynn, another Singaporean lady, "Times are never good," or "Times are worse than the previous years," because that's just how it works. Do we stop eating, sleeping, working and shitting when times are bad? So should we wait for "Good times" before migrating? Think about it. By any remote chance that you are reading this Allen, you know what I am driving at

I didn't know what to say to Jo. I had no answers in words. Mysterious things happened to every single one of us so far. Many of us were depressed at some point of time during the early days. Micky waited 8 months before clinching a fantastic job. Patrick took barely a month to join a big MNC. Ninja Nurse took 3 days. I would go as far as saying every one of them had an interesting story behind their first job. Such as Thusara's story which he generously donated to the site. Everyone had their own way of attributing the mysterious forces that took care of us. M called it God's will. Jo called it the Gohonzon's clock. Ninja Nurse called it God's blessing. Thusara called it luck. I found myself being able to nothing for the newly arrived couple but to silently keep the faith for them, hoping for the forces to give them a hand if I did the believing for them.

Then the good news came. Jo found a part-time job as a nurse for 20 working hours a week and her husband Wee Tuck found a job as a meter reader. I told Jo that it was a fantastic opportunity because that was getting one foot into the business and it was easy to slot in to the next permanent vacancy when it comes. And it will, you'll see soon enough Jo. At least that is sufficient to pay the bills (i.e survive) in Perth for now. They did that in... less than 2 months? So times are bad or not Jo?

As for Wee Tuck, his meter reading job sound really interesting to me. Of course, the majority of Singaporean men would not be too happy to work as a meter reader because they felt like big fucks working as managers or professionals in Singapore. To each his own. I read the description of Wee Tuck's job on Jo's blog which I would share with you before I end. It is a fun job for a first job - at least for me. 

• Little or no interact with human beings. 
• Works under little or no supervision. 
• Works under casual attire. 
• Moves around, zero deskbound environment
• No need to deal with tattering bitches and office politics
• Looking for new meters feels being paid while playing a scavenger hunt
• Can keep fit, lose weight
• A$21/hr

Sounds like a dream job for me. Why did I grind metal for $28.80 a hour when I first came?

As for Jo's blog... I really loved it and I am a fan. I noted some similarities between us. Like me, she writes better than she speaks, used the same blog skin I did when I first started blogging and has been meticulously dropping notes about her first days in Perth. I felt like one of the old fucks who wrote to me and thanked me for my journals because it reminded of their own early days in Perth.

Thank you Jo for giving me the permission to share her wonderful blog with you. 

With that, I can consider retirement from this blog (though I will probably start something else online)

I know nuts about teaching. I don't even know the difference between 'kindie' or 'pre-school' at this moment. So asking me about education is very well like asking a cobbler how to flip bottles in the air over a wine counter. Fortunately I knew someone who knows these stuff. She told me to edit her answer which I didn't. Do I look like an editor? My mind couldn't help but drifted to the disgusting thoughts of 'SPH editors.' Anyway, it was unnecessary. It was clear for anyone reading this that the reply was casually crafted in conversion mode so who cares about grammar mistakes? Can't teachers make grammar mistakes? Even school principals look for under age prostitutes.


Thank you M for your contribution.

Some school place in Perth

It was amazing how the gritty 76 year old lady stood her ground and managed to finish her speech, despite several attempts made by the moderators of the CPF forum with MP Hri Kumar to shoo her off. The situation was tense and one could see clearly how the PAP grassroot members were visibly uncomfortable as the minute went by. One of them at the end even suggested that the speaker was 'crazy' as apparent from her body language. The real reason being, the commoner on the microphone delivered her concerns in the unconventional way, one which the whites will never get accustomed to whether or not the content of the delivery was meaningful or worth a thought. Needless to say, the moderator declared to those present that the old lady's views were 'non-constructive.' and reminded the crowd to be 'constructive.'

In her speech, the lady admitted how she loved Lee Kuan Yew and the PAP. She trusted the government so much that she felt that her CPF would be safest with them. So she did not withdraw her CPF when she had the chance to. Years later, she fell into financial hardship and admitted she forgot to pay her property tax after receiving reminders. As a result, her bank (POSB) allowed HDB to deduct the amount owing without her permission. She asked, "Is that ethical? Is that right?" and left the forum silent for a moment. With that, it bought her some extra time to plead with the MP to allow her to withdraw her CPF so that she could arrange for her funeral.

MP Hri Kuma response was apathetic. He explained there were rules within the CPF system and said, "As long as you know the rules and make your decisions, then you live with the choices you make."

The PAP troops might deem one such commoner crazy. 

Perhaps.

Perhaps the old lady was crazy. If so, then she must have been driven to such a state by the rules that she didn't agree and was forced to abide with. Tell me, can a Singaporean not choose to participate in the CPF program? Can a CPF member choose to opt out of the Minimum Sum scheme? What choices were Singaporeans given and which are the of decisions we have the liberty to make? Unfortunately, meaningful decisions that impact a Singaporean's life are limited because choices are few and far between. Do we really have to make that hard decision at the Polling Booth? At least, for now, we should be grateful such an option still remains.

No one in present in the forum seemed to be sympathetic enough to give the old lady a hug. Perhaps nobody would like to be associate with someone who could only offer 'destructive criticism.' The old lady obviously lived way past her glories, she might had lost some of her memory and she might be just another typical grumpy old person but she was part of what the government loved to term as, "The nation building pioneers." She had been a school teacher for most, if not her entire career in her prime, a law abiding citizen who supported her government fully and contributed to the society in her own commoner way.

Somebody wise once told me, "To look into the future, look at the young." I respectfully beg to differ. To look into our future, we look at the current old. The old lady is just another Singaporean like you and me, we should be counting our blessings if our future is similar to her's and not worse as at the rate we are going, nothing suggests we will turn out any much different or better. To be sneered at voicing out in a public forum, to be silenced umpteen times and told to live with our decisions as the answer. Full stop.

Don't get me wrong. I am not implying that CPF should be returned to members at the age of 55. That is a debate for another day and I'm not even thinking about the issue. This isn't about the CPF but the fabric of our society, that seems clearer by the day to be void of respect and basic human decency for the people. I do recognise the need for rules and regulations. However, when we are compelled to the increasing compulsories of different stages of our lives, including how and where to live in the final stages, I can't help wonder when will most of us ever feel that the situation has crossed the line.

It was Friday the 13th and that was the date picked for my medical review. To be honest, the ominous date hardly bothered me. The procedure, however, was in my mind since the beginning of June. This time, Jen offered to drive me to the hospital. I couldn't recall why I didn't request for her to go with me last year. Perhaps I was a mental wreck after the surgery and an follow up didn't faze me by then. That went to show how flexible the human mind such that it can be twisted to survive under different realms of reality. That explains why it was almost an impossibility for any human being to truly empathize. 

For instance, it is all but too easy for a Chinese to tell an Indian in Singapore how he understands the possible racism his Indian friend has to face in his daily life. In reality, that is a load of bullshit. One will never truly feel like one unless he is one. If I couldn't even imagine how I went through the regime of working 12 hours in a metal workshop every night almost 2 years ago, or how I went through the cystoscopy last year nonchalantly without fear, how can a man earning millions a year confidently tell the masses Singapore is a fun place to live in as a poor?

Yes, it was the same guy who bravely took on the short cystoscopy procedure last year. That was me. A year on, he was a bundle of nerves. True enough, when the doctor jabbed whatever that felt a kilometre too wide into his weeny, he almost jumped out of his skin. When water was pumped into his bladder, he had to bite his lips and wished the time away. Fortunately the doctor did not dwindle too long and pulled the scope out not-so-gently the moment she finished looking at whatever she needed to. That little few minutes of pain was nothing. Nothing as compared to chemotherapy, an ordeal where patients swore they wouldn't wish upon their worst enemies. I counted my blessings. In comparison, cystoscopy was fun.

"Good, all clear," she mumbled. Still recovering from shock, I had to ask for affirmation in case I heard it wrong, to hear the sweet verdict once again just to make the pain worth it. With that, while many spent their lives chasing 10-year COE for a car, I had been given the COE to live another year and you bet that felt better than the former, which held no meaning for me.

I did the ceremonial pee before I was allowed to leave the hospital. It was painful as expected, peeing bubbles with popping sounds at one stage but finally the stream were passed out. I staggered slightly out of the hospital, waiting for Jen to drive Stargazer over. "I drove home myself last year," I thought. "How did I do it?" Different realms of reality. Always remember that before telling anyone you understood.

Albany was sleeping in her seat by the time they arrived. I rubbed the back of my fingers on her pink rosy cheeks that usually showed up more definitively during cold weather. I couldn't wait to give her more of the hugs I had been told I had given too many. 

Never too many.

Never too many.

Thank you for all those who cared.

Hi,

You have put me in an awkward solution because I don't particularly enjoy telling people what to do, especially if it involves changes that may have a huge impact on a person's life. I am wonder if I should post up my POSB Bank Account # each time I reply a migration question and see if anyone will donate any token sum to me. Perhaps I should, for the fun for it. I won't promise 'transparency' by posting details of donors though (where got time? I've got a job) 

Since you have plans to get married, I suppose the least complicated solution is to do just that and apply the Prospective Marriage visa (Sublcass 300). It is a quick temporary visa which allows you nine months of grace period to come to Australia to marry your spouse. It doesn't require you to have a wedding, so don't tell me it is unworkable because getting married legally is not at all expensive. It's just the marketing shit working up a rot in the ladies' (lately the men too) brains preventing a wedding to be as straightforward as eating a meal. Obviously we are not the same gender so I do not expect you to agree with my perspective so I'll leave that to your prerogative. Oh, by the way, the immigration does not even require the wedding to be held in Australia.

Subclass 300 will allow you to travel in and out of Australia as often as you need to within its effective period. You are legally allowed to work in Australia, though it may be harder to find permanent jobs because employers may not be willing to train someone up on temporary visa. Casual jobs shouldn't be an issue. After your marriage, you will be eligible to apply for a Partner Visa, which will eventually lead you to a permanent visa. While waiting for your Partner Visa to be approved, you should be able to extend your temporary visa (if required) or granted a bridging visa.

Good luck and wish you a happy marriage.

asingaporeanson