A Singaporean In Australia

Gentlemen,

It is no secret many of us love cars, some more crab-crazed than the rest. We don't even know why we do. It's almost .... like there is an inbuilt gene in us that triggers a searing instinct to act, to get one of these slick moving metal in our possession. It remains one of the world mysteries.

The little love affair may have started when a baby boy is introduced his first wheeled toy. Soon enough, he realises his beautiful new toy makes him go faster and receive adulation from his parents for riding it right.

So often, car marketing revolves around a man and his car having the world to himself, with his trusty metal companion assisting him to negotiate the wild elements of nature in fine fashion. To men, the car represents a symbol of freedom, a mysterious puzzle, potentiality, profound satisfaction and a mediation sanctuary. That is why men love their cars.

In Singapore, the car offers an additional representation - societal status. It is a podium of life, a goal to work tenaciously for. Better yet, we get to drive the trophy around and feel mighty fine about it. Just imagine if our athletes walk all around town with their SEA games gold medals on their necks long after their incredible feats in the arena. Odd. Not for our cars.... our cars are timeless trophies.

If you have not already notice a big chunk of infographic on the left, take a look now and you'll note that someone kindly worked out for us that a car will cost us $365,257 for the full 10-year run. When I read that, my erection dropped and all the romantic fantasies I wrote in the above paragraphs faded quickly. 

Some say practical Singaporeans are practical but the evidence on our roads is implying differently. It doesn't take a genius among us to figure out a $365k can buy ourselves a 99 years lease agreement that allows us to live in reasonably safe concrete shelters. Then why God, why?

Sure, a car can provide a man everything we want and more. Or is it? Most definitely, we can have sex in our cars. With our debt level twice as high as our height and twice as wide as our paunch, with whom do we have sex in our cars other than the right hand, I do not know? Besides, unlike the trusty HDB flat, there isn't anywhere to wash up after the deed, unless the smell of sex is your idea of scenting up your car. How fun is washing up at the public toilets otherwise?

Oops, I forgot we can have the cake and eat it in Singapore. Why not a HDB flat on a 30 year loan and a car on a 10 year loan? But why not a fully paid up HDB flat and no car, living off your whole flat rental relac-one-corner at a cosy hut in a kampong in one of our neighbouring countries? With some luck, you may even find out that Fandi Ahmad is your neighbour and you may get to uncheck another life achievement by having a kickabout with Fandi.

I find it hard to disagree that having a car open up a portal of possibilities for a man. The key here is context. Our context is Singapore, where the opening of such a portal closes up several other portal of possibilities behind us. Our dream steel cage ironically enslaves us where it is meant to brings us freedom to the road.

Even in Perth, I noted with interest how Singaporeans flock to the car yards and grab a car without even test driving it. The recommended drive away price of a similar 2014 BMW 316i is $59, 342.99. It is not that much of a difference to Singapore's $80,000. The other components of running the car will be somewhat similar over 10 years. The notable difference is that you can still drive that car on your 11th year without paying for a permit but face it, you'll hardly find any of our kind who wants to be seen standing beside a 11 year old car, let alone driving it. Thus the key difference is the $60,000 COE and nothing else. Is that a reason strong enough to buy a car like that the first thing you do when you land in Australia? I'll leave the $2,000 car vs new car debate to another day.

The $60,000 COE is a key reason NOT to buy a car in Singapore though. Consider someone who drives a car in his 20s to his retirement (70s), he will have 5 COEs receipts in his pockets. That works out to be a cool $300,000 just for the permission to drive. Slavery as the price of freedom? If that makes any sense to you.

When you are at the wrong side of 30, you don't look forward to birthdays anymore. Well you see, in our first 20 years, each birthday feels like getting both a hardware and software upgrade. During our 20 to 30 stage, we still get software upgrades but there are no more hardware upgrades. Even our 30s, our hardware get choked with dust, rapidly outdated and software upgrades gradually turns infinitesimal, insignificant.

Despite being a year older today, I have still a few years to go before the big 4, to become truly a stale old fart that society don't know what to do with. You know, like the older hens too young to kill but too old to produce nice fresh eggs in the same frequency as before. At this age, I don't make new year resolutions anymore, since I don't seem to be able to remember it within a couple of weeks. Old hardware, you see. What I do these days is to reflect on my birthday whether I meant anything to the world at all.

In fact, I am lucky to be alive. I am not referring to surviving a cancer fight for 1.5 years. Just recently my mother reminded me yet again about my birth story, this time with even more juicy details. Mum even told me which clinic she went to see the doctor for a referral letter to abort me. Yes, mum did not want me because our family could not afford me due to both financial and time constraints. There were a few considerations. Firstly, my parents already had two girls and probably wouldn't appreciate the risk of having another. Though it wasn't ancient times back then, there was still a slight preference for at least a boy. My parents were not sexist really. It was their version of a change of environment back in those days. As of today, it also feel a bit stale having 2, 3, 4 kids of the same gender one after another. Besides, our family income wasn't enough to sustain us comfortably. Back then, many mothers were homekeepers. Yet my mum had to work to help out, resulting in an incommodious situation of juggling among work, 2 young girls (no money for child care) and a big mummy's boy (dad).

The catalyst for her decision to abort me was probably disincentives of the "Two is enough" campaign ran vigorously by the Singapore government back then. Not only my mother would be fined if she chose to give birth to me, she would also have a harder (and more expensive) time sending me to school later on etc. Thus, all thanks to ex-PM Lee Kuan Yew, you almost need not to read this blog today. The doctor persuaded my mum to keep me. He told my mum that she was close to the end of the optimal age to deliver a healthy baby and if she plan to have another kid much later, it could turn out "stupid." I think the doctor could do a little better there. Mum did not change her mind and left the his with a referral letter with an appointment for my abortion. 

With a twist of fate, my existence was due to the interference of my grandmother. Grandma is a staunch Christian but seemed to have conveniently use Catholic beliefs to impose on my mother that abortion is a sin. That's why we love our grandmas. She also offered her hand to "take care of me" if my mother decided to keep me. I was told Grandma did fulfill her promise in my first two years and notoriously left me home alone after she made me sleep, something that sends shivers down our spine by only imagining ourselves doing to our kids these days. It was a thug life back then. Perhaps it was how I learnt to return home myself after school when I was in Primary 4 and took care of myself, at home or on the streets, until my parents came back. By Primary 5, we shifted to Choa Chu Kang but for some unknown reasons, I wasn't transferred to a school in the vicinity. I had to travel from Choa Chu Kang to Queenstown in a 1.5 hours bus ride on snake Bus 185. I gave it that name because of the detours it took for otherwise a 45 minutes journey. 

Somehow, I grew up.

Burdened with family responsibilities today, a man like me constantly think about how to make himself useful to his loved ones, alive or dead. We buy enough insurance so that our properties get paid off if we die, knowing the spouses we leave before would have it a little easier financially. That is only the foundation and it isn't adequate. I am not sure about other men but I have to keep working on leaving trails of income to help Jen out should my death be premature. Unlike esteemed men who work to leave behind legacies, ordinary peasants like me can only focus on making sure my family is well taken care of in our demises. I am also considering participating in time banking.

That is enough for now. There are much more to do.

It turned out that I didn't teach Albany how to spell her first word. Her mother claimed the honour the night my post on my method was published. She insisted that Albany learnt how to spell her name way before I taught her how to spell "Green." Ok I'll give credit to Jenny, reluctantly, considering how Albany's progress remain stagnant since. My method though, deserves a little mention. Since I using this little motivational trick, Albany learnt how to spell words like Biscuit and colours such as Yellow and Orange. She was already better than her dumb dad, who couldn't spell the word "Bicycle" at twice her age in the past. Angie tried doing the same thing to her son and told me she was surprised it worked. However, she told me it was impossible to apply that every time. For instance, what if her son wanted to eat cranberries? Surely, spelling the word "cranberries" will be a little difficult for a young toddler? 

I have to be honest. Out of the 3.75 Summers I went through, the current one has to be the best. Even if February turns out to be the mother of all heat waves, the fine weather (by usual standards) in December and January probably made up for it and make this an average shitty Summer. However if the current trend continues across February, we might be experiencing one of the memorable legendary Summers to reminisce when we become even older farts in several years to come. There hasn't even been a bush fly epidemic that requires me to draw my epic Fly Slayer from the catacombs to save my community. Are the dung beetles experiment working? Last year, I read somewhere that they wanted to introduce a lot of these in the rural sites to break down cattle waste and reduce bush fly reproduction. I wonder....

Summer has been so okay that I even felt it was not a bad idea stroking up the oven to bake a meal. (see left) Apologies for being totally random here. This was put up to remind hapless new migrants from Singapore who cannot cook to save their lives that it is possible to break out of a Maccas (Mc Shit) routine. Unless they cannot turn a knob or two clockwise or read short instructions, this chunk is basically a ready-buy from Coles/Woolies to be popped into an oven for X minutes to feed their children and their neighbours' children for a weekend. The best thing was, it cost less than a Mc Shit value meal. It even cost less than chicken on certain days. If you are neither a red meat eater nor a vegetarian, give turkey a try now and then.

Now that hapless-Singaporeans-without-maids are taken care of, let's talk about the remaining third of Summer. As I am writing this, I have just experienced a 5 minute light drizzle out there. Did I hear a soft groan of thunder far, far away? I almost forgot how this feels like. Raining days or nights tend to remind me of Singapore. Ah, Singapore. It is difficult to measure how detached I am by now. Whenever I return for my visits, I still manage to traverse the island seamlessly as if I had never left. Yet throughout the days, I felt like I was observing the hectic world zipping by like a formless apparition. Eventually, I would be forgotten just as I will forget. Are our worldly existence merely memories, data?

My favourite season Autumn is looming. Hopefully it will arrive right on time in March. I promised myself I will make the effort to enjoy the coming Autumn. We need to wake as early as the weekdays on the weekends. The prize of this environment is the amazing morning. I have been waking to such mornings everyday and telling myself I must reward myself to these gems during the weekend but I have been letting myself down. As the final third of the great Australian summer runs down, it's time to get set and go.

The first suburb I looked into for land was Chittering. I knew next to nothing about the place other than being a name on the map. I have not visited the place either. It just somehow caught my eye.

Duchess M immediately said, "It is near my place! Buy!" My reply, "Er..... it isn't near your place." Since she was frolicking in some heavenly Tasmania site by then, I didn't expect her to check but she did later and came back exclaiming, "WAAAAH! Far!" That's right. I may not know my stuff but I can read the map.

Large pieces of land within 100km of Perth do not come cheap. In fact, if you are looking into suburbs within 50km such as Mundaring or Glen Forest, it may cost you close to a million bucks for a house on a piece of good size land. Even at a place like Baker's hill, where Albert lives, considered a remote sleepy town, will cost us around A$250,000 for 4-5 acres of land. True, there may be vast land that I can buy for just A$50,000 but those places are easily 200km and beyond. If I were to move within 100km, I can still keep my job. Beyond that, I will have to find another way to turn the wheel of life. The question everyone else will bring up will be Albany's education. Thus these are big decisions. I am not making them hastily just yet.

So I came across a piece of land being bought over from a developer and they sub-divided it into "small" plots of lands of around 4-5 acres each. If you are buying land from folks like that, very often they'll have a fancy website with information to better help you understand why you should be buying from them. Normally they'll also provide you a site map such as this:

I have to admit, it's the first time I've seen a "discount" on land. That confirms my suspicious that even vacant land by itself is heavily marked up and can be discounted. It's just that it is extremely difficult to do so with a developer with strong holding power on a seller's market. Thus buying land from a small land owner himself may option up to a higher possibility of negotiation. Contrary to what I observe my friends did when they build their houses, haggling intensively over construction costs, I will do so at the land purchase stage instead. No doubt, I will get rejections all over my face but wait till it becomes a buyer's market......

Having said that, A$165,000 for 5 acres 70km away from Perth City, isn't really that bad. The manager mentioned the land being on the "lower side of the road" thus the discount. I may just pop by and see how bad it is when I'm free. I'm nowhere near to making a decision to buy a bicycle, let alone a piece of land. Just window shopping.

It's my fourth Australia Day in Perth.

If anyone tells you Perth is dead, ask them to stick around during the evening on Australia Day in the city. However, don't you expect to see marching contingents and shiny tanks rolling across a parade square. The people here would rather break flag waving records after their barbie sessions. The finale of the night will be something we are both familiar and unfamiliar with - a magnificent fire works display.

I beg your pardon? Don't we have fire works at the end of every NDP in Singapore as well? Most definitely. Magnificent display? Only if you consider random pyrotechnics spamming magnificent. Else, you will enjoy one of these here on Australia Day. Think the fireworks version of a musical fountainesque display. I could only catch this year's on the TV, since my daughter needed to be in bed by the time. It already looked the deal, so just imagine how enjoyable the 'live' show would be. Trust me, it wouldn't be the mass farting we usually get back home. It attracted more than 300,000 spectators for a good reason.

Talking about sleepy dead towns, I always felt reluctant to debunk the myth. Not that I'm actually influential enough to inspire Singaporeans to move to Perth if I try, it's still better to play it safe. The roads seem a lot more lively than it was when I first came and I don't really appreciate it. We could do with less Singaporeans in Perth. Our friends in Melbourne and Sydney will welcome as many Singaporeans as possible so those are the places to go obviously. I should start posting up kangaroos attacking random people at suburbs to scare them off Perth. After all, Canningvale can only hold that many Singaporeans. The rest will have to sell their souls to reside in one of the golden triangle suburbs north across the highway. So if you are a Singaporean looking to migrate to Australia, as the rule of thumb, move to Melbourne and Sydney. Won't go wrong bro. At least you won't get punched by a random kangaroo to further bruise those Monday blues.

Sanjay
sanjay@pembertown.com
25 January 2014

They are giving us free rooms to fuck.

Alright, I missed a point there. It wasn't quite free sex. They wanted something out of it.

Eggs.

Not just any egg but fertilized eggs.

Hmm, just a while ago I was having a conversation with the Duchess about having my own farm in bid for my foolish quest for sustainable living. She did a pre-order for a small but regular supply of eggs. Not just any eggs but free range eggs. What do most of us understand from the term free range? That egg laying hens get to roam in big fields all the time, eating healthy natural food such as organic worms, if there is such a thing at all. 

Truth to be told, free range chicken still get herded around and confined a lot. We are talking about chickens being reared as poultry. They are not going to be anything like those kampong chicken you come across in the rural depths of SEA countries except Singapore. So we have to get real and understand that free range poultry chicken are confined all the time too. Mind you, confinement doesn't necessarily mean caged. It really depends on your own definition when it comes such things. For instance, Australia and Singapore are both islands thus the populaces are confined by water. For someone who have lived in both countries, I can tell you if you blindfold yourself and start wandering around, you can likely to crash into a thorny bush in one country and smash your nose into somebody's succulent armpit in another. That's how I figured out what free range meant.

Now that we established that free range chicken are that free range, caged chicken is an entirely different dimension. Imagine being chucked into a cage to breed and your produce turned into economic units, then being housed in tiny space for the rest of your lives. Would you really care for a free fuck?

Jen is no green thumb. If there is any term to describe her gardening level, it should be a brown thumb. Or black thumb, if we consider we almost got an Aloe Vera plant killed under her care. To end its torment, I ended its life for good. To redeem myself, I managed to revitalise five of its shoots, turning them from brittle bits to healthy green succulents again. Just as I thought the plants will survive the searing Summer, I saw the Stevia plant was close to its end today, dying from the drought. It was then I realise if I have any plans to do with plants, I will have no one to rely on. Jen and I share many interests between us. However, planting isn't one of them. I may have to reformat my future vision.

Even as a hobby urban farmer on a microscopic scale, he faces the same harsh reality as other true farmer out there. And that is, things die. All the time. Only if one can withstand constant showers of failure in his environment, he has the chance to survive. My training actually starts now, not when I have land. If I cannot produce a thriving garden in my concrete balcony, I don't even stand a speck of chance against the vicissitude of nature.

Some months ago, I was teased by Josephine for not being able to recognize the (dried) flower of the garlic plant. It was a humbling experience, since I could identify many types of living herbs better than the average Singaporeans. When I was a young boy, I watched plenty of heritage drama serials on Channel 8. Whenever there was the part when the Japanese occupied Singapore, we were shown how resourceful locals make their own soap or dig up sweet potatoes from the ground for food. I wonder how many of us can identity crops to save our asses these days, within Internet down, let alone knowing how to grow them.

I remember how my mum used to lament about how food prices spike during the final years of our little western food stall. "Prices of raw food keeps going up yet we can't increase our prices!" she would go. At times she laughed about the irony when she recalled her youth where they had such an abundance of food around them, such as potatoes, green vegetables and all kinds of tropical fruits such that they "wouldn't even eat them." The elders will tell us how "back then, life was simple." Today, to have such a life is anything but simple.

Fear. Why are we so fearful to break out from our wheel of routine? Why are we so afraid and sad? In our subconsciousness, we know that we have very little control over our lives. Our jobs are just about our last lifeline. What do you expect when we buy every single thing from the market, which every single thing is imported from elsewhere. Take it or leave it at best. A gun pointed at your head at worst. In this current societal climate, it is near impossible to break out of the inter-dependencies of the economy. However we are not aiming for the impossible, just bits and pieces here or there. Produce your food, control what goes into your diet, living off the grid, be self employed, run a business, take your pick. Every chain broken is a sliver of freedom, which in turn diminishes fear. Most importantly, life will always be fun and fulfilling. To start, we need to know. Why don't we start by watching our plants grow?

Hey there!

I guess i'm one of the many others whom have emailed you after reading your blog seeking advice or encouragement so I'm really no different from any other Singaporean but I was just hoping to get in touch and hear from you perhaps.

My name is Charmaine and am a 25 year old Singaporean girl who is going to get called to the bar in August this year (hopefully!). I did my degree in the UK and have come a long way to finally be able to call myself a lawyer. as you may be aware, there is an overflowing of us here in SG. sadly. 

you could say i just went with the flow when it came to studying law. i did it in polytechnic and decided it would have been a waste to just be a paralegal and decided to pursue a degree. why didn't i study in Aussie? simple: no uni wanted me. it was in fact my first choice. all the uni agents told me flat out that i was wasting my time so i headed to the UK. 

i guess what i am trying to say is that i would have virtually no luck in landing a job as a solicitor in Australia. even if i were to take all the conversion tests and exams. but i imagine more importantly, i wouldn't want to be a solicitor in Australia. i'd always thought i would retire there. like a few relatives i know. 

did i take a useless degree? hardly. i'm better for it really. but my passion is not there. if i could do over, i'd be a vet or working with animals but i'm going off topic.

the only reason i'm contemplating moving in a couple of years time is because of my girlfriend. (yep, i'm gay not gonna lie)

she's Singaporean too and has journeyed on the exact same path as me. we're even training in the same law firm now.

she had plans to move from Singapore even when we were in UK. she wanted to stay there. but once again, no one would hire a 3rd world citizen (in the EU context) so back home we came. much to her disappointment. 

idk if at this point we'll consider going back to the UK or Canada doing whatever job eventually.

i have always been on the fence. its not about the money. doing law will definitely be financially prudent thing for me to do. 

no doubt my parents will violently object if i told them i want to move to Aussie. they have seen my uncle and aunt move to Melbourne and within months or so got retrenched without a job and with 2 kids there. i guess he had to take on a blue collar job that they looked down upon. so that memory has always been engrained in my mind.

it didn't help that one of my cousins eloped and married an Australian and is long gone. everyone was shocked and dare i say it, disappointed.

funnily enough, my parents didn't mind me staying in England. as long as it was doing solicitor work. tough luck.

either way, its not that i don't love law. i do really but its not forever. 

what i really hope to do (and most people laugh or look weird at me when i say this) is work with animals on a farm.

i would love to do that. but i'm not sure what kind of qualifications i would need to get there.

i'm hoping to get some experience with horses in SG first but i'm going in blind. i don't know where to begin and if anyone in Aussie would ever hire a Singaporean girl with no experience at all. 

either ways, the GF and i do plan to get married overseas and after that we're hoping to have kids. i doubt both of us want to do that in SG.

her brother is starting his uni in Melbourne next month and we do plan to visit. 

i was planning to head to Perth in march to visit relatives with my siblings but can't due to work. sad face.

either way, i guess i'm just dropping to say hi. and that you are really an inspiration. i mean don't say you are not because it's really how people see you!

I do hope to hear from you and your thoughts. 

big love,

charmaine lim

You aren't asking me how to elope on a horseback are you?

I'm not sure if it is a good idea to ask a blue-collared worker living in Australia for opinions. Let's hope your parents don't get to read this.

First, let me share with you my current situation. I want to buy a few acres of land, build a house on it, surrender myself to nature, learn to grow my own food and drink from my own water source. My dream is simple but it's the hardest thing to do in this modern era. Most of my Singaporean friends would think I have lost my mind if I share my goal with them. If you consider these Singaporeans have gone through their own migration journeys, each and every one being an inspiration in his or her own right and are generally more open minded than other Singaporeans to living a life far different from the way we have been molded to in Singapore, I am still considered an outcast in my ideologies. In short, you have to be regarded as insane long enough to become an inspiration.

The truth is, nothing can stop you from flying off to Australia in the next plane, sign up for a Veterinary degree, pay off your first semester, work your ass out during the holidays to finance your next semester, graduate and get a job injecting stuff into horses. Yet you couldn't because you wouldn't. What is stopping you from breaking the fences are the reins of life that bind you. You know what? We are all the same. If I am not bounded by circumstances, I would have quit my job, take up an apprenticeship as a tradie for a few years, work as a qualified tradie for someone else then work free lance eventually, all while I'm building up my farm. I wouldn't, because it will be tough to feed my family on an apprentice allowance. I also have to consider how to give my daughter fine education if I move my family to a rural region. My wife, being a social animal unlike me, will find it difficult to live far away from her social circle she has painstakingly built up these 3 years. Considering these, it seems easier to keep the dreams at bay and mope around. 

Millions of people fight and win their own battles every day. We create illusions of inspirations everywhere. Look at you. You didn't have it smooth on your long journey to become a lawyer. That itself, makes you an inspiration and an envy to many. There are thousands of Singaporeans who will kill to be in your shoes. Yet you are still bind by reins of life, invisible to the others, just like everyone else. Inspiration is an illusion.

You are half right. Everyone is indeed different. But not everyone is special. As a soon-to-be lawyer who want out even before you start work, someone who plan to have children in a gay marriage and rather tend to horses than to bitch around in court, clearly, Singapore is not your future. I don't need to elaborate on this. You know very well I am right. It is obvious, from what you generously shared with me, that your parents are going to have a big say in your bigger choices in later life and I am assuming that is going to stay this way, unless you plan to emulate the heroics of the missing cousin.

Therefore my advice is, pay your dues. Work. Earn as much money as you can. Save as much money as you can. Pay back your creditors if any. When your time for partial financial freedom comes, your reins of life will come loose. You may be able to pursue your aspirations by then. Your grueling working life in Singapore will also help you confirm how serious you take your dream. Eventually, you will get the cue to follow or dismiss your goals.

I don't know many Singapore ex-lawyers in Perth. There should be a good reason why. The obvious reason is their skills are probably not easily transferable, like you mentioned. It normally takes A LOT for a "normal" Singaporean "professional" to forgo his past career glories and take up a job "beneath him" in Australia, much less a lawyer. Forget about getting blessings from the lawyer's parents too. The only ex-lawyer I met in Perth disappeared and never reply my texts after the first meeting. It could be the food I cooked or my face. You can read about my account of her here. [link] Since I didn't have a good record with lawyers to start off with, I won't be too surprised if this is the last time I'll hear from you as well.

When prices are high, we worry about high cost of living. When prices are low, we worry about losing our jobs. There is no pleasing of man. Many used to tell me opportunities to get rich are few and far between. Now that a golden opportunity is staring at them right in the face, what would these people say? No money to invest? Not the right time to make a gamble in turbulent times? Oddly enough, when supermarket snacks are on a 10% discount, they instinctively stock up a lot so that they can grin enjoying their wise purchases in front of the TV when the price returns to normal yet reluctant to buy a few barrels of oil. Yeah, that will not be enough to make us rich when oil hits a peak in the future. At least it makes us richer, can't go worse than buying crunchies or moving metal.

My land and grow dream will have to wait. I told the Duchess of the Brook that will be a 10-year plan. My wife will be relieved to hear that. Duchess' comments were not too positive but she was too polite to call me crazy. It's important to tell as many people as possible about your dreams. The idea is that when you eventually garner enough affirmation of your insanity, it's time to start. Since Duchess learnt that I may be able to supply her good organic eggs, her stance soften a lot. I suspect she might even dump her son at my farm as a childcare and go out on honeymoon with the Duke during one school holiday. I could certainly make use of those energetic young hands. I got a slave in return for some organic eggs. That's not a bad deal.

Talking about cheaper petrol, as we know global crude oil price have been falling. Therefore, retail petrol prices have been dropping steadily for the past few weeks. This morning, I did a fill at $0.98/litre (after discount). It was $1.50 just 6 months ago. Just as I am writing this, the king of black gold land had upped the lorry and oil price spiked a few percent overnight. With so many people in this modern day with the ability to shake up the world with just a morning fart, the only certainty about the future of small fries like us is uncertainty. If anything is certain, retail petrol prices in Singapore will always been higher than Perth. Why am I so certain? Because there is no reason why it should be.

Confused?

Well, some time ago, Satki Yoda told the round table that Singapore is a large exporter of refined fuel to Australia. The bros laughed about it but Satki Yoda insisted he was serious. So I did a bit of reading and found that Satki Yoda actually knew his stuff outside his Black Vios. Australian prices for petrol and diesel (wholesale or retail) is actually closely linked to Singapore's price of unleaded petrol. In fact it is being used as a key petrol pricing benchmark for Australia. That means Australia's petrol prices will never be lower than Singapore's prices because no Australian fuel suppliers will import from Singapore to make a loss in sales here. On top of that, there will be a healthy margin as a commercial incentive for these suppliers. 

Take a cue from the above table. The red line is the price Australia is buying from Singapore. Shipping cost and taxes add a whooping 80% to the import price. Then wholesalers mark up another 10% or so. And retail suppliers takes another 10% margin on it (not shown in this chart). The final price that folks on the street like me will pay will be at least double the price Singapore sells to Australia. So if Singapore is able to export refined oil at $0.40 per litre to Australia today, why are our friends in Singapore, without the need to absorb thousands of kilometres of shipping costs, filling their tanks at $1.70 per litre at the kiosks today? As a Singaporean, I don't wish to attempt to know. Lest I get another one of those "Prices are pegged to inflation" kind of bullshit. What I do know for sure, every litre of fuel I pump into the tank in Perth will always be cheaper than Singapore, despite the fact there is absolutely no justification it should be. Singaporeans voted for this.

Remember this? When whatever organizing committee decided to show Prince William and his lovely wife a typical Singaporean life when as he strolled through a random recreation ground in Queenstown, they should have include a Drunken Master right besides the Taichi Master. After all, our government seems to imply that normal Singaporeans do Taichi at work and get ourselves pissed drunk after work - from what I read about the latest bill in Parliament to be passed. Someone was kind enough to summarise the new laws in a neat little chart as shown below.

Source: Ministry of Home Affairs - Messing with your home affairs for 50 years

For 3 days last week, Spudshed was giving away 200 tonnes of potatoes to the public in Western Australia. You read that right, free potatoes. With 50,000 of 4kg bags ready to be given out, there was enough for everyone who took the effort to turn up. While good bargains or special offers weren't uncommon in Singapore, I have yet to see a one at this magnitude. Consider this, those spuds were free for all to take, no accompanying minimum purchase condition and no strings attached. Some argued it was a publicity stunt. There were even who protested against the move, citing that such acts would sabotage small time growers by dragging the prices of potatoes down. What surprised me was that the owner of Spudshed will be facing the threat of possible prosecution for growing about 10% more than his allotted potato quota.

Uh? Quota?

I learnt something new again. In WA (and not the rest of Australia), there is an existing regulating body some called the "Ministry of Potatoes." or the Potato Marketing Corporation. When I read about that the first time, I thought it was a bloody joke. Prior to this, I thought the Overseas Singaporeans Unit (OSU) was the most inutile set up ever but this one probably tops it. However ridiculous it may sound, the Ministry of Potatoes is a powerful organisation backed by the Marketing of Potatoes Act of 1946. The act allows the WA Government to control who can grow potatoes, how many hectares can be planted and the varieties produced so that they can control supply to keep prices steady. Therefore the act allows the regulating body to search vehicles suspected of carrying more than 50kg of potatoes or restrict 'illegal' potatoes from entering the market, etc. Under the Marketing of Potatoes Act, Spudshed has committed at least 2 offences. First, as mentioned earlier, they grew 10% more than their quota set than the PMC. Second, they gave out the potatoes for free.

As for the PMC, they defended their importance by citing how they could help many small growers out there to survive. Consumers will also benefit by steady potato prices. Frankly speaking, I'm divided. I empathize with poor small potato farmers. If you are looking from a consumer's point of view, I know you wouldn't. However you'll be a bloody hypocrite if you support the Minimum Wage in WA at the same time. Think about it. Still, I couldn't accept the fact a grower has to destroy his potatoes instead of giving out for free to avoid prosecution. Yet I'm hearing about some so hungry that they have to rely on Centrelink. Or the world is short of farming land to produce enough food to feed the population. With more of such agencies around the world, I am not surprised.


Besides when I visited PMC's website [link], there was little mentioned about their nice vision nor did they bother to at least include a cheesy mission statement. All they seem interested is to get people to fill in forms. Still there is nothing much I hate more about filling forms, I'd say, screw these guys. If I were an Australian citizen, I'll vote for Labour just to support getting rid of these guys, alone.

Sometime back, I asked Angie mama what comes next after "Terrible Two". Her reply was "Terrible Three." Dear Angie, by the way, is expected her newborn in a few days' time. Let me take the opportunity to send my pre-congratulations to the prettiest mother in Punggol.

Meanwhile, Albany turns "Terrible Three" today. A year ago, I did not read parenting books about "Terrible Two" on purpose. I didn't want to subject or prepare myself to expectations to avoid having preconceived ideas on what I would be experiencing. That was done so that I could fully appreciate the full extent of the challenges of a father at that stage. To be honest, I enjoyed "Terrible Two". Perhaps I was lucky, since many had commented that little Albany was "easy to take care" as a comparison to their own children during their casual observations. Not that they were wrong, but children being children, Albany had her fair share of tantrums and temper. It was by no means an easy year of parenthood for us. After all, we have no parents around to lend us an occasional helping hand when needed. We were all on our own, no cheat code whatsoever as a backup during desperation. The bar were raised even higher after Jenny decided to take on some part-time work. Somehow we survived "Terrible Two."

Though it was a year of toil from a parent's point of view, "Terrible Two" was a critical year for Albany. Through consistent practice, she was able to feed herself independently seated on her high chair by the table with us during every meal. During the week Jen went back to Singapore, leaving me to take care of Albany alone, I even removed her bib and told her she had to learn to eat cleanly such that she would not dirty her clothes. Surprisingly she understood and began to be quietly conscious of it. During one dinner, she declared proudly, "Daddy I never dirty my shirt," at the end. I took Albany out of her chair, hugged her tightly and celebrated her achievement with her gleefully. 

Unlike the first year where much had been focused on the infant flipping, sitting and finally walking, year two opened up a wide spectrum of learning for the little toddler. Jen decided to toilet train Albany when she could barely run. The process was tedious but necessary. It was heart wrenching for a father to watch her daughter weep helplessly as her pee flowed uncontrollably down her legs. For some reasons, she was inconsolable whenever she did that even though we told her it was alright and nobody was angry with her for creating a mess. It was a painful fortnight for all three of us but it paid rich dividends at the end after she eventually developed her consciousness (again) that she had a muscle in the bladder that she could strengthen and learn to use to control her bowels. Before long, she could set up her own toilet seat on our normal toilet bowl using a small stool and eventually flush out after she was done. I used to argue with Jen that she was subjecting Albany to doing too much too soon but each time, Albany proved me wrong. Gradually, I built my up faith in the toddler and started encouraging her to take on tasks that I thought she wouldn't able to complete properly.

Jen's latest ambition was to develop Albany such that she could go to bed in her bedroom by herself. Each time, it resulted in a tragic end. Back to my usual lenient ways, I negotiated that Albany should be weened into it but Jen's patience eventually ran out. As a result, I became the Minister of Sleeping lately. No doubt, my hesitance would impair Albany's route to another tick of independence but still, I could see improvement in the sense she was willing to dive into bed these days to be pat to sleep. In the past, she would cling on me like a Koala if I was in the room. It would be a difficult task then, to put her into bed when she fell asleep eventually because she would wake easily and cry for daddy. Though it takes up time as a guardian of the bed, I am willing to do so till now because I did not want Albany to build up a resentment towards bed time. Now that she has turn three and can understand what we say better, we will find a way for her to go to bed on her own. I will miss the moments just as I miss the little moments during her infancy. It has been an awesome feeling watching your child in deep slumber.

As usual, we celebrated Albany's birthday quietly at home. Despite the lack of fanfare, decoration or an impressive cake, she was contented. Sometimes we read too much into these. We tend to give them what we want, not what they want. At this age, I came to realised that all they wanted is us.

Onward to Terrible Three.

During our first year in Perth, we rented our accommodation and moved thrice. Out of those, twice was with a tiny infant in my arms. We did not rent a whole house to ourselves, so taking care of an infant was challenging. During Jenny's confinement period, my mother-in-law came over to help out. As a result, three adults and one baby squeezed in one tiny room for a month. That was a shuddering recollection that makes me wonder how I endured that. I believe I was so overwhelmed by stretching my physical and mental limit with life's demands as a labourer at work and a new father at home to notice my situation.

My drives from work in the wee hours of 3 am were always so quiet that I could hear the hums of my engine clearly. The streets were dark, especially so as I approached the final turns without street lights leading to our rental place in Huntingdale. Regardless how physically wrecked I was each night, I would look up to the sky for a good ten seconds before entering the house. The stars in the sky was illuminated by the darkness that shrouded me, showers and showers of bright blinking stars. I remember telling myself all that what it seemed was only temporary, for darkness would one day elude us. My only focus back then was to pull ourselves through it.

I couldn't help but remember hearing how some friends gushed about their overseas holiday trips, particularly about how the respective countries they visited "had stars." After getting those unprecedented amazing views of the milky way on a pitch-dark night, I could understand why. What they didn't realise though was that we too, have the same galaxy shining down at us in Singapore but we were literally blinded, by the brightness, to see it. As the aged proverb goes, "The grass is always greener on the other side," or how the Chinese say it, "The moon is always rounder overseas." suggesting that circumstances seem more desirable elsewhere but in reality are often not. The keyword though, is "often."


Hence it means "sometimes", circumstances actually are better elsewhere. The best way to know is to find out. During my first year in Perth, I was naive, frightened and defensive. I closed my mind tightly to the world around me, taking anything that came my way as it was. Still, in the darkness, I could see the stars in the skies and the tiny speck of light at the end of each tunnel if I walked hard enough. What I couldn't see here was the limit that almost choked the life out of me in Singapore. However, one man's limit is another's comfort zone. I maintain my stance that migration is not for every Singaporean. Some of us will be much happier if we stay put.

For the others, they walk in the darkness, guided by the stars not knowing where they would end up. Just like life itself, few would disagree that it is all about the journey and not the end. Just for that, I never regretted stepping out of Singapore to embark on an incredible journey so far, which by no means, have ended. Where we are at the moment is a temporary oasis we came across in our travels. In no time, we will walk on.

Last year two leisure crabbers walked solemnly in a corner of the Peel Inlet on a warm windy night.

"Nothing leh," declared the older man disappointingly.

After 30 minutes of stubbornness, the younger man finally accepted that it was a bad year for crabbing, two other attempts yielded similar results.

This year, more than 10 of us gathered at the peak of Gaeblar road. Everyone was in good spirits and ready for war. We chatted for half an hour while vandalising the owners' house with dirt. Then we decided to move off, because we could chat the whole night away at that rate. Our destination was a 45 minutes drive 50 km southwards. It was a pretty good drive, with half of the distance eaten up smoothly at 110km/h. We managed to reach just before the end of sunset. After solving a few gritty moments where a couple of our cars got stuck in sand, we got going. I noted to myself Ugly Green's AWD functions got useful in mild situations like that, even though he wasn't a proper 4WD.

Within 5 minutes, I knew this year was a contrast to the year before. Small crabs were hiding or swimming around us rather often. But we were looking for the big ones, since it was illegal to catch the small ones. Besides, small ones were pointless if you plan to put them on the dining table. They were in good abundance, such that I was pinced thrice at the toes. Fortunatley, I jumped out of the way before any significant damage was done. Yes, I was under prepared without a proper footwear but it was too late to withdraw. I wouldn't refuse a nice experience of catching those crabs after a barren previous year. Throughout the night, all of us managed to scoop angry crabs up.

Unfortunately, most of us did not bring along a box to keep the crabs. I didn't bring one because I was expecting to catch nothing. So we shared a single box among ourselves. The problem was, as we found out soon enough, we wouldn't know who caught which crab. We ended up with a large box of crabs, mixed with legal and illegal sized crabs. However, we took the effort to separate them and got the rest swimming gratefully back to the sea. Then it was loot splitting time.

Surprisingly, none of us wanted to bring the crabs back. I didn't want it because I wasn't really a fan of crabs (I'll take prawns any day) and didn't want to go through the hassle of cooking them. So Judah and Grace split the crabs and everyone went off. We were the last car to move off, because I had to give Grace a ride home so we had more feet to wash. Then we were stopped by a girl-ranger. Girl ranger demanded to look at our crabs so we showed her. After measuring, she insisted that 4-5 of Grace's crabs were undersized, though from where I was looking, I personally felt we just made it. We decided there was no point arguing with these folks, who were paid to catch unethical greedy farmers. Then girl-ranger decided that I was going to get a fine because I was the driver and the crabs were found in my car. That was when I got slightly pissed off. I was only here for a leisure crabbing session and had no intentions for personal gains with my catch, if any. Most importantly, I didn't take any crabs and I was only being kind to give a friend a ride and now I was going to be fined like a fucking illegal farmer? 

In my frustration I blabbered stuff to girl-ranger. Perhaps it was something I said, girl-ranger decided to give drop the fine and gave Grace and I a "warning." I took the offer grudgingly. Not the best of nights but not the worst either. There are lessons to be learnt here for sure. There are always innocent harmless situations that we have to carry something for another person somewhere, such as this example or another common scenario - helping a friend bring back stuff to Singapore when we travel back. Though we completely trust our friends and nothing bad will happen 99.99% of the time, we are subjecting ourselves to risk every time. Thus, I've decided not to ask my friends to help me carry things back to Singapore on their trips from now on, no matter how tempting or convenient it may be. It's just being responsible and protecting a friend from any unexpected risk. Of course I will continue to give friends a ride since I learnt another important lesson tonight. Never forget SAF Rule 1.