A Singaporean In Australia

The house felt a little quiet without her presence. It took a few days to get used to it. Judy had gone back to Singapore and our family is alone once more. She was the first guest to occupy the room at the furthest corner of the house. Though she would not be the last, the room felt empty for now. After 6 months living with her, even my daughter and baby had gotten used to her presence like she was an additional family member. For 6 months, Judy had kept us engaged on interesting anecdotes. Although she decided to pull the plug from the initial 1-year project, she told me she gained a lot of friends and incredible experiences and memories.

Ok. I told her. Not that keen, really.

On the way out after I picked Albany from school, the burly school gardener asked me, "Are you coming tonight?"

Slightly taken aback, I brightened up and said, "Oh... yeah, we are coming."

It was kind of a bigger deal than I initially thought, judging by the turnout of parents. By 5.30pm, parents were comfortably seated, Aussie Style, in their picnic & BBQ set up. Camp chairs, foldies, mat and all. Needless to say, twenty steps behind us were a BBQ man churning out sausage sizzles. It was then I realised the performance we were going to watch was not some elite choir team, specially picked for the event, but by every single kid in that school. That meant I got to see my daughter sing Christmas carols with her classmates. Suddenly, I felt excited about the event.

Well.

I hate to bring up bad times and I apologise because I have to. Say what you like about Singapore's education. Best in the world or whatever. I don't fucking care. Needless to say I certainly do not feel my kids are going to miss out on the God's gift by not sending them to study in Singapore. If there is to be an event like that in a Singapore school, parents will get to see the best of the school in every aspect. The entrance, the sound systems, manicured plants specially brought in, elaborate decorations, indoor seats arranged neatly. Only the best of the best kids perform one of those they would have rehearsed hundred of times before. Everything had to be inch perfect, way better than the actual, usual going-ons in school.

That is what I seriously hate about Singapore - putting on a facade. It starts from young, of course. I'm sure if you are Singaporean, you will feel there is nothing wrong about putting on your best on a day that matters. I don't blame you and I don't expect you to agree with me. It is called brainwashed for a reason.

In the army back in my days, parents were encourage to visit the camps on Enlistment Day. Bunks looked super clean, probably triple cleaned by the previous batch of botak recruits on 7 extras. Smiley sergeants greeted parents with perfect English and smiled at your girlfriends. The cook house served food that looked something you would get in Jack's Place. After the parents left, I remembered thinking, "Get on with this shit," the moment our platoon sergeant relieved his tight facial muscles and turn his fake grin to his natural snarl. Why do we want to be fake as fuck? Is there something so shameful in the shadows that we cannot face one another?

In a school event like that, I do not expect perfection. I just wanted to see things in a setting as natural as possible. I want to see how my child interacts with her teachers and classmates, not a programming code on beta testing. Or worse, not being about to watch her just because she wasn't among the best the school could offer. Seriously, why would I give a damn about the best kids anyway? In fact, I would like to see how the school actually treats the worst. The teachers probably wished they could lock them up in the school garden shed or the longhouse toilet if the option is legally available. No surprise on the country level, you will see how the elites are glorified and the weakest, buried from reality. 

With rain threatening to come pouring, the school Principal did his speech. Nothing grand and fanciful. No speech notes and robotic recital. It was short and sweet, just the way it should be.


The kids began to sing. The opener was nicely done by older children. It wasn't a professional performance. In fact, it was slightly out of sync at times. What I was impressed with was the kids did not look nervous at all, despite how obvious they were under-rehearsed, in "Singapore's standard." The better thing was, they genuinely enjoyed doing it. Standing at the side of the main crowd, I managed to observe the parents. I couldn't pick up anyone texting on their phones, talking to someone or being on the phone settling "more important" things at work. The parents were genuinely attentive, interested and very supportive. Every performance was met with a rousing applause, especially the Kindy class, where Albany was in. Their performance was chaotic, fun and beautiful to watch. Nothing like watching machine cogs spinning the way I was accustomed to in my growing environment. 

By the end of the performance, parents were encouraged to grab their Kindy kids so that they would enjoy the rest of the show better and "So will we." I laughed at that, along with the crowd. I didn't know I would end up actually enjoying the event I really wanted to avoid going.

I know the Australian education system is weak, as compared to some of the countries producing top students, like Singapore. They have been harping on that. There are even talks of adopting Singapore's Way, much to my horror. Shouldn't they focus on constructing more tall buildings first, so that the children have good locations to jump from? Australians do not know their priorities. Yes - I know academic excellence here is far behind but I hope the schools do not turn myopic turn their focus solely on it. I've seen how my child interact with Judy's kids with ease, despite their big age gap. She looks forward to going to school everyday and is keen to learn. At this age, it isn't right to grind them. It is a wonder how we think child labour is wrong but grinding them with school work to late hours is right.

At the end of the day, good grades and all, are nothing but facade. When it is time to apply what we learnt and do the deed, the Singaporean young adult say they have "returned to the teacher," whereas their Australian counterpart do it. Without rehearsals, we are lost sheep. Best education in the world? I'll pass.

I was googling for answers to Australian migration details before I stumbled upon your blog. It's been a great read so far, and I've mostly been jumping around your entries. It's really inspiring to see how far you've gone from 2011 till now.

Like you said, every migrant has their own unique circumstance which makes them consider moving. I've had my doubts about belonging to the system for a long time, but recent events this year really forced me to just push ahead with my own self-fulfillment instead of always thinking about my responsbilities - to my family, to my country, to my friends (the limited few who aren't even Singaporean to begin with, but Southeast Asian).

I don't really want to talk about the recent events because that will only makes me depressed. But maybe I'll share about the other details about myself that may give you a better picture - I'm 24, graduating from SMU Accountancy in the next semester. Didn't get any job offers from my previous 2 internships. 

I don't have much savings, I saved most of what I earned in NS but it wasn't much. I ate mostly at cookhouse, did not go clubbing or blow money on anything really except time on computer games. I have about $10k worth of shares. I don't owe anything to anyone for my university fees - I was on a bond-free university scholarship. So at least I'm debt-free (yay?).

I've been to Perth back in 2006 with my brother. It was the earliest memory I have of travelling. And the thing I remembered most fondly of was the night sky. I've been hiking in other countries trying to find the same thing, and honestly the only place that came close was a different part of Australia - Tasmania. Something about the scale of the starry night sky just makes me feel at peace. I also enjoyed the weather and the friendly people who would say hi to me when I went for my morning jogs. I've also been to Sydney and Melbourne in 2015 for a study trip, and I must say I didn't like the city very much. Of course, 10 years is a long time and Perth might have changed drastically since I last visited so it's good to check with people who are actually staying there.

Well, if all the hikes I've been to taught me anything, it is that I don't need many things to be happy. Sleeping in a freezing tent getting blown by strong winds after an arduous 15 hour hike up and down Iceland seeing nothing but sheep, I felt more at peace than I ever did in my 24 years in Singapore. The thought of staying with my parents until I'm 35 and eligible to qualify for my HDB flat abhors me. I do not want to live off my parents. Call it pride, ego, whatever. I want to be independent, to be able to take care of myself and anyway the relationship with my parents have not been too good after recent events.

Anyway, it's hard to reduce my life story down to one paragraph or two. I've deliberately left out details of my family because I don't want to talk about it to a total stranger. After my long-winded cock-and-bull story, I finally get down to my questions about applying for the Skilled Independents visa (Subclass 189):

1) If I get a visa via Subclass 189, do I have to work under that chosen profession? Honestly, I chose the profession back in JC days because of the job security that it offered. Now that I no longer need that job security, I found that being an accountant is really not for me. I fall sick all the time in office environments and feel miserable throughout my internship periods, even if the people are great.

From the Immi website, it only states the the visa allows me to "work and study" in Australia. Not really sure where the boundaries are set. Seems a bit strange to vet applicants under Skills and not compel them to work using that skillset, similar to using DSA to apply to Secondary School, and then not enrolling in that CCA.

Anyway, I'd very much like to undertake a trade occupation apprenticeship if I succeed in my visa application. The only problem is I have absolutely no experience as mechanic, engineer, or fixing things in general. The only thing I fixed in recent memory was my bicycle tyre and chain which dropped out. I know you also had a similar starting point, so I'm curious as to how you managed to convince employers to take you on despite the lack of any background knowledge.

2) Do I need working experience for the Skills Assessment? Will my accounting degree from SMU be enough? I am afraid I will not pass the Skills Assessment test administered by CPA Australia or any of the other accounting bodies. Unfortunately, after 4 years of study, my accounting knowledge is really bad even though it is enough to pass with an average GPA. Additionally, my understanding is that work experience is generally required to be a certified accountant. If you know of any accountants who successfully migrated to Perth under this scheme, putting me in contact with them would be a great help.

3) How much money would you estimate is required to move/settle in Perth? I understand the visa alone costs almost $4,000 now. Additionally, things like buying a second-hand car ($1,500 - $3,000 based on your blogposts) and putting down deposits for housing rent (2-3 months? About $1,500?) and having a safety net (for food most importantly) while doing the job search is necessary. All that being said, I am single, have no children or real relationships to worry about, and my parents are financially stable. Ideally I hope to remit a portion of my salary to them as it is my responsibility, but they do not require me to supoprt them. But I want to hit the ground running when I begin the move to Australia, and thus am going to work and save as much as I can in Singapore to hit that goal as soon as possible.

Well thanks for reading this long email. I don't think I've typed any email this long before, but since I'm asking for advice for such a big complex move, I would like to be as thorough as possible. If you're too busy to reply, then thanks for chronicling your journey. It's been a really informative read to see your trials and progress as a migrant. I should be able to scrape through and make the move happen if I want it badly enough anyway. I like to believe that when there's a will, there's a way.

Hi R,

Straight to the point.

Q: If I get a visa via Subclass 189, do I have to work under that chosen profession?

A: No, because this is a permanent resident visa, unlike a pure work permit (Subclass 457) which may require you to work under the profession qualifies you for the visa.

I arrived in Perth during mid Spring. 17 September 2011. A date I may not easily forget for a while. Somehow, the years slip by. Have it really been 5 years already? Back in the Summer of 2011, if you asked me what I thought I would be in 5 years' time, I would have honestly tell you I didn't have a clue. I was grinding metal at work in tears on hearing my dog died in Singapore, just months after I left. My wife was heavily pregnant by Summer and my daughter was due soon. I didn't know which would go first, my job or my body. There wasn't a more uncertain period of my life till then. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone what would happen to me in the following month, let alone the next 5 years.

The journey was never a bed of roses. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, for some at least. The same rules apply anywhere in the world. Some has it good, some not so much. Though life has became more routine and stable, it remains uncertain for me. I never felt settled, though I can say the same since Day 1 of my working life in Singapore. For one, I cannot tell you where I will be in 2021. I hope I am alive and well to tell the tale by then.

Just when I think I am beginning to know the place well enough, this Summer has been extraordinary cool. "Har! Don't speak too soon," my wife would go. No. This one is something different. Being out in the open so often, I am more sensitive to the surroundings than her. This Summer will be one interesting one, notably different from the past five. It may be one that we can expect a reprieve from those hellish scorchers we experienced so far. Rainy days are extremely rare during Summer in Perth yet we have already see 3 days out of 12 with some rain. We will still experience a couple of hotter days of course. It is Summer after all. However, this one should be noticeably more comfortable to cope with.

I have to take the opportunity to get the landscaping done up. There are simply too many items on the task list to dwell. I have to starting cross them out quickly, so that I can focus on the things that really matter. It is already my 6th Summer here. I have to make haste.

Within 20 seconds, the advertisement was gone. It was free and it could delight a girl, should I expect otherwise?

I managed to catch hold of the seller's number before the ad was gone. I sent a message expressing my interest anyway. By the end of the day, I received a phone call from the seller.

"It is still available. When can you come today?" No sorry, Madam. I had already reached home, there was no way I would go through that peak hour traffic to Fremantle to pick that up and sacrifice my family time.

"I'll do it tomorrow morning before work," I offered.

"Fine."

At 5.30am, I was outside her place figuring out how to fit that into my car. It was bigger than what I imagined it to be. The real problem was, it was filthy like hell. More like a nightmare for another girl. I wondered for a while if that was why the first buyer stood the seller up. Still, a free item was a free item. Singaporean Mum, M, exclaimed when she saw the picture I sent her, "Wah, just buy from Ikea lah, $100 only. This kind maybe got bugs."

Hmm. Ok. Some advertisements did appear on some websites I go to after the conversation, confirming that Whatsapps is definitely selling information of our conversations to clients.

To be fair to "Kitchenette from Silent Hill", none of these models shown in the advertisements (left) are comparable in terms of functionality. Kitchenette from Silent Hill was dual faced, meaning you could play it from both sides. It was also higher and bigger than some of those models. Miss V - the only encouraging person regarding this - told me how much she loved that retro version compared to the modern ones. Ok, I admit it wouldn't cost more than $200 to buy a similar used model in decent condition, if I could find someone selling it in Perth in the first place.

Anyway, that wasn't the point. If I promised someone I would collect it, I would. I had to either dump it somewhere else if I found it unsuitable or restore it so that it might actually delight a girl. In this case, my daughter.

As if I didn't already have enough on my hands, I decided to try to restore it to usable condition. I told Singaporean Mum, that would be my ticket to heaven, since I was saving Earth, while sinful people like her consumes. >:)

It was surprisingly lotsa work. A rusty steel circular hollow. Rust removed and sprayed white later on. A broken clock hand to replace. New wheels were installed in placed for that dodgy old one and another gone missing. Components was taken apart to be cleaned, repaired and disinfected before assembling again. I took it home and Jen said she could do another clean as well as repair some of the tiny component that was worn or lost. By weekend she added a sink and I added a missing shelf in the oven compartment. All that was left was a tap, which I would find something suitable when I have the time.

Albany was delighted and fussed over her kitchenette. I asked her specifically if she mind it being obviously pre-owned. She didn't mind it a bit. Perhaps little kids have less expectations compared to the adults. Who are the real spoilt brats, I wonder? Maybe watching how both her parents put in so much effort in refurbishing it, she saw it differently? It may not be possible to dissect the thoughts of a 4 year old cleanly.

The reason why I am writing this is that I hope one day my daughter grows up to read and understand the intentions behind my effort to transport, dismantle, repair, clean and upgrade a toy that I can easily splash the cash to obtain while drinking tea at home. You wouldn't have guess the pissed poor peasant of Perth could actually afford it, would you? I may be able to buy the toy, but not the opportunity to tell my child a story. I hope she will receive this message one day in the further future.

Daddy will go the full lengths for her, with or without easier options available. If she is to find a man to take care of her in future, he shall be one who caters to her actual needs and not a mindless diamond splasher. If the man is unwilling to walk the miles for her like her dad, he is not worth it.

I live near a vineyard.

It isn't the best suburb in Perth. In fact, in real estate websites, the suburb is often rated among the worst in terms of amenities, schools and entertainment. It isn't the most convenient place to get to either. It fact, whichever way you choose to reach me, it will have be detour a large moat of vineyards privately owned by individuals. I was betting on those land never, at least in my lifetime, to be rezoned by the government into residential, commercial or worst, industrial land. After all, they fall within an important tourism zone, a sector which WA is already quite weak in and constantly seeking to drive it up. It will be insane for the government to rezone these treasures away. 

Or so I think.

The government where I used to live proves me wrong by convincing the populance that sanity is actually its inverse. Since almost everything I treasure in my birth land has been destroyed for reasons that only benefit a minority, I won't be counting my chickens here just yet. With greedy humans everywhere, you never know. What I will be counting instead is my blessings whenever I drive pass grazing horses, cows lazing under the shade and rows and rows of vineyards on the way home every day. May that last yet another day.

It was probably the most busy time of the year for me. Winter have just ended and I have resume work in the backyard. Savvy Steve will not be too happy to see his house incomplete for so long. Judy is still around, though she informed us that she will be returning to Singapore in mid December, officially ending her quest. Angie and Lex came for their initial entry with kids and an elder. There was definitely a big buzz in the household. Judy got along well with the family, since she is into photography and bakery and the guests were professional photographers and their elder, a baker.

Angie and Lex were probably the fastest people I ever heard getting their Australian PR. From inception to approval, it took them slightly less than 6 months. They had only thought about it in March, started taking action in April and there I was, hosting their initial entry in October. I have to emphasize yet again if you want it hard enough, you will do it hard enough. Action speaks louder than words, there is no exception in this case.

I went camping with the family and was rewarded with a nice photograph of Albany and I waking up to the sunrise. Since they have picked Perth as their destination - a rare choice these days because WA's economy is struggling - that may be a start of many camping trips together. While good times last, that is. Angie will often chide me for "not wanting them to come." It isn't that case. If they are some random Singaporeans who came to contact with me informing me they have bought a leaky Nissan for $10,000, I wouldn't care less. However, they are my friends. It will sadden me to see them suffer, if things don't go well enough as planned.

If anything, it is their plans that I have been worried about. But again, who am I to question? I have walked the path differently from the other Singaporeans in Australia too. Who am I to doubt they are unable to overcome the indefinite hurdles that go their way? That is a chapter I will have to archive for now, until my chores are through. They are planning to make their full move in a year's time. I should be ready to help by then.

For now, I have to focus on my work. It has to be finish by the end of this year. There shall be no rest until the tasks are done.

Kids being kids, like what they all agree, are strong absorbing sponges that will soak up any liquid substances in contact with it. I maintain the parents play a key role in shaping their child's mentality. The parents influence the quality of what the sponge soaks up. I have to keep reminding myself to select the right choice of words to tell my 4 year old daughter in order to drum the correct mindset across. Most critically, walking the talk and do what I said for her to witness 'Action speaks louder than words' in motion.

I want to teach her responsibility at a young age. Not English, not A-Maths. I don't care if she could read or spell bombastic words, though I was surprised she could spell a list of 3-letter words all of a sudden lately. Sure, I encourage Albany to read and learn from books. I read to her when she ask, despite reading aloud is never my kind of thing. However what I focus on, on everyday basis, is to instill a natural sense of responsibility in her. She has always been very keen to try new stuff and help the others (for example, helping Stephen to push his mixer as shown on left)

When it comes to learning about responsibility, I grew up on the wrong side of things so I know all about it. My sense of responsibility was non-existent well into my adulthood, which made NS a torture and taking over the reins from my father as the man of the household was daunting. Even during NS, where boys are supposed to turn into men, many responsibilities were regarded as punishments or liabilities and ability to shirk them was seen as pure genius most of the time rather than being frowned upon.

I find that a lot of these mindset in people is formed by how their parents run the household. Due to that belief, I rarely waste my time engaging in the obnoxious habit of telling friends with younger kids than mine how to raise their kids. Instead, I tend to talk to parents with kids older than my own, to learn from their mistakes, sometimes on their own admission upon reflection, sometimes from my observations. That way, I have a chance to better deal with similar situations when my child reaches that stage, with a methodology framework fine tuned to suit our needs. 

Case study 1:  A primary school kid loses her mobile phone and ask her dad for a replacement, offering to do housework for X number of days for it. Is that a Yes or a No for you? How will your decision impact the child's mindset?

Case study 2: A 4 year old kid drops her soft-serve cone and comes wailing to daddy, threatening to howl the moon down if he does make things 'right' by buying her a new one straightaway.

Case study 3: A kid being told she will get desserts if she pack away the mess she created with her toys.

To most parents, the decision to make their decisions in the respective case studies come naturally, most of the time without much thought being put into it. How else can parents trigger actions of their desire from their children if a reward/punish system is not in place? These are things I spent thinking during my long drives back home after work if I wasn't having a conversation with my mother. It is all about the right choice of words, sending the precise message, setting the mindset right and repeat.

Gradually, I stop telling Albany, if she bathes after she comes back from school, Daddy will give her afternoon tea. The new message, "Bath, because you have to. By yourself, because you can," in any form of endearing words in accordance to her mood, taking care to stop associating afternoon tea with her bath entirely. Occasionally she will still whine for attention. She is still 4, I cannot expect a 100% consistency from her at this age. At times, she will still want Daddy to dry and comb her hair, citing she 'don't know how to' when she clearly doesn't want to be alone in the bathroom. We still celebrate each time she complete the entire bathing, getting dry, wearing of clothes and putting worn ones into the laundry basket package like a victory. I am proud of her.

On the same note, the growing girl has to understand taking care of her toys, especially when she like calling them 'hers', is not just about possessing them but also about keeping them neat and tidy at the end of the day. I stress to her often enough that unlike Mummy who suspend her toys for a week if she doesn't take care of them, I will simply throw them away. There is no second chance, like many things in life. The early heartbreaks will teach her to treasure her belongings, for there is no convenient replacement options should she loses any.

None of a child's or teen's personal responsibilities should not be associated to rewards or punishments. It is what they have to do, like a man making a living as his responsibility to support his family. It is not a punishment for marriage. (or is it? hmm.) As part of the family, it is essential for children to help out in the household. My mother used to shoo us out of the kitchen because we "should be spending time studying" (which we didn't, of course) or we will "mess up the job instead" (and we ended up messing up another place). Not only should we encourage kids to take part in household chores, we should assign them some to be done at stipulated time. It doesn't have to take up a chunk of their precious time that most parents will prefer to dedicate to homework, tuition or other activities parent paid to have them learn. If we look at it at a broader point of view, our kids do not exist to do homework or score As in exams. They are living things not puppets, who are fully capable to think critically, form a perspective or learn things their parents cannot. Academic excellence cannot be made their sole responsibility, unless the intention is not to raise sensible human being but an answering machine.

Due to the proposed constitutional change, Singapore will have its first-ever elected Malay President next year - if you can call that an election that is. Hiatus-triggered, letting the minority have a go, closing the gap, whatever you want to call it, these strategies are racist. 

Meanwhile Lee defended his amendment and assured Singaporeans that the next candidate will "be as qualified as any other candidate who stands and wins in a non-reserved election." Of course, he completely missed the point, if that was meant to address critics on meritocracy. Singapore is supposed to have the most popular (elected) qualified candidate as President, regardless of the race of the candidate. On another day under the PAP, we will not. Even his staunchest of the 70% can see the PM uses meritocracy, "natural aristocracy" and whatever that suits the day according do his needs and, all thanks to the 70%, whenever he deems fit. This is coming from the same government that has been shamelessly drumming that "Singapore is not ready for a non-Chinese Prime Minister," into the already unthinking minds, despite the poll conducted by Yahoo Singapore clearly suggest otherwise.

I wonder how many Malay friends are honestly thrilled with the announcement and how they will congratulate our new President from their ethnic group, ignoring the fact their new idol will start his or her career built on racism. Not 'reverse racism' or 'positive discrimination' - just plain racism. I wish the candidate the best of luck, coping with an undignified task of sitting around at the Istana and waving like a penguin during National Day, essentially being paid to be a Malay. To accept preferential treat on the basis of one's race in employment, is to participate in racism. It does not "ensure a mix of different races over time." No doubt, the millions will probably melt any ill feeling of racism, something the government will never mind doing to keep a puppet happy.

Unfortunately, it may never be about addressing or promoting racism. This is likely to be just a tool to rationalise the self-interests of a certain group, as a timely barrier to entry for a few.  Much as I like to see a demonstration of unity among the Malay community for refusing to stand for a PE, the candidate is probably already earmarked and has agreed to be bought. 

Another sad day for Singapore, a truly racist country masquerading behind the Racial Harmony Days.

Strawberry picking is available during Spring in Perth, around September to November. There seems to be an increasing number of farms opening up to public to do picking. Their entrance fees vary but are usually still worth it, if you measure it against the amount of strawberries you will be taking home.

The strawberry farms are having a good harvest this year, as it seems. Perhaps due to a good Winter with plenty of rainfall. We get BIG, fresh and sweet strawberries as per the past couple of years. It is an activity which I will recommend if you are in town during Spring time.

This year, we actually had new people joining us in picking. Auntie Jo was back in hunt like the past year. We actually manage to get Patrick out there on the farm. According to his wife, he isn't into those stuff and it would be near impossible to drag him there. He certainly looked like a zombie trawling through the lanes, not enjoying the activity much. However, when he met Albany, he cheered up considerably and started chatting with her.

Auntie Joni was also there with her husband. She was the one who found the mutant strawberry, the biggest strawberry I had seen. Looked like Fukushima was upon us. The last time I heard, one of her neighbours or something gobbled up that strawberry without hesitation. We will be having a mutant Superhero protecting us from farm in Perth soon, I guess.

With experience handling those juicy things, we found them storing much better. Separating the ripe ones with the super ripe, discarding the suspects, keeping things clean and dry, we had no strawberries that began to rot before we started eating them this year.

Who is going to join us next year? I'll host Marilyn all the same. I bet you are contemplating....

I have never met him and I don't know his name. Yet I received a gift worth more than $500 from him.

Well, he had a stash of brand new pavers left over from building his house to give out and chose me to take them away, after the initial guy didn't turn up as promised.

That Saturday was one of the tougher ones in recent memory, one I spent loading and unloading hundreds of pavers. To some, it was pure torture. However, I saw that as good exercise and being paid for it. Should I order that lot of about 500 pieces of brand new pavers, I would need to fork out at least $550-$600 for them and that was not inclusive of transportation fees or GST yet. Most certainly, my backside is not worth $500 an afternoon so it is foolish to think "work and use the money to pay others for pavers," is a good idea. It never is. Trust me on this. Those fuckers who say things like that are always found in their bed late Saturday morning. Anyone can come up with a theory. Never listen to what the others have to say. Words are cheap. Instead, look at what others are doing. The actions always speak louder. I look at how some are constantly gathering hay through the seasons and emulate them.

I made a total of 3 trips, unloading and loading at each. I estimated I handled about 6 tonnes of weight that afternoon, 3 tonnes load, 3 tonnes unload. As I did another two loads at 5am in the morning elsewhere, I probably amassed more than 700 pieces of pavers, half of which I stocked at MIL's house, to help her pave a critical area when I have the time in future. I will have to cough up $800-900 to have them purchased and transported.

The owner sent me a photograph (above) without caption.

"I will fix it for you," was my only reply.

Though I damaged the edge of his driveway by simply driving there, the repair should be done by his builder, who obviously did substandard work for him. Since the house was a new build, it will be under the "warranty" period. But heck. I didn't want to argue with anyone after a long day of physical work. Besides, his response to my reply was, "Ok. My wife is breathing down my throat." Couldn't get a bro into trouble with his Missus.

On Sunday morning, I woke at 5am and drove straight to their home. I ripped open a few more pavers to investigate.

The shoddy work by his contractors couldn't be more apparent with this pic. During the cement edging process, they didn't bother to fill the voids under the edge pavers completely. The moment you put weight on pavers with voids beneath them, they tilt and move. I could have simply walked away and told him about it. Instead, I squatted down there to fix his problem.

That (left) was the end product of my repair. I was fucking awesome. You know, the good thing about doing things yourself on the weekends instead of selling your backside is that you learn practical, transferable skills that will help you for a lifetime. Should I have to pay for this damage, it will most certainly vapourise the money I saved from taking his stash of pavers. With some paving experience, I got myself out of trouble. Remember, I know nothing about doing these when I first move to Perth. It didn't take anyone long to learn something as simple as that. Just the heart to start. That is all.

I returned home in time to have breakfast with the folks.

I sent the owner the pics of the voids I found under his pavers and warned him not to drive near the edges, as I strongly believe there were voids under the edge pavers along the entire stretch of his driveway. Or - get the builder to fix the problem!

I sent them a pic of my completed work as well. They weren't even awake by then. After an hour, I received a message from the owner, "Thank you for being responsible bro. Have a good Sunday ahead."

As part of The Father Project, The Big Camp Out offered fathers the chance to spend quality one-on-one time with their child in a unique camp out experience at one of WA's footy grounds, the Domain Stadium and "camp under the stars."

The rules:

- No mothers. Only fathers will participate with their children during the camp out.

- No mobile phones or other electronic devices. The key is to spend quality communication with each other.

- For kids of 5-12 years of age. Somehow, the organisers were willing to let us participate despite Albany wasn't 5 years old yet.

- Fees of $75. Meals are provided. We managed to get free tickets. Thank you. I appreciate that kind gesture to accommodate a pissed poor parent.

On the eve of the event, I felt nervy about the whole thing. We had never take Albany camping before. It was forecasted that night would be a stormy one, with high speed winds throughout. How she would react spending a night outdoors with howling winds and rain pelting down on the canvass just a metre above our faces?What if she chicken out in the middle of the night, ask for mummy or any excuses she can think of just to get home to her warm, familiar bed?

All I had to remind myself was how I scorn Singapore parents when they express concerns about their kids adjusting to Australian life. "Worry about yourselves first," I would go. As far as this is being concerned, there is nothing far from truth. I have never met a single Singaporean child who is unable to cope with the weather, environment, school life and mixing with kids of different skin colour. It is homogeneously consistent be it with the young kids or teenagers, through the conversations whenever I have the privilege of having one with any young Singaporean. Till date, I have never gotten a 'meh' response in regards to their new life here. The parents, however. You cannot imagine the lame shit they can come out with. With that gentle reminder, I knew it was a go. I have faith in my belief that children of this generation are spunky as compared to their lame shit parents. I have faith in the relationship I have put in with Albany. I love her to bits. It would be only one night. That was nothing. If I couldn't even do that, I might as well move back to Singapore and hire a Marilyn.

Dads and their kids started streaming into the field by 3pm. The atmosphere was a little awkward. Besides exchanging some formalities, the fathers didn't talk to one another. That wasn't too surprising, really. Most of the children helped their dads set up their tents. Though Albany was keen, I could tell she was totally clueless about what she could help with. The strong wind was already starting and restarted my pitching twice. In the end I had to place our bags and got Albany to sit at corners I needed weight on while I pinned down the base. When the tent was finally up, Albany was delighted and started to sing and dance inside. I made a quick scan outside, there wasn't many 4 years old children like Albany. There were probably one or two more. 

The organisers had 4 events planned for us. They weren't anything compulsory but most of the attendees joined in. Activity 1 was kite making with the kids. Then going back out to the field to fly them. Albany loved it. Activity 2 was paper plane making. After making one, we were encouraged to go to the top level of the stands to throw the plane. The paper provided was a little too thin and the wind was too strong. None of the planes flew really well. Activity 3 was footy. After a warm up sprint, Albany came back to me asking for the toilet. Ha, so it began. Since it was a stadium, there were toilets all around the oval, as I found out after taking Albany for about 5 times through the event, including one at night and one at dawn. We went to the last activity in the holding area, where we were dads and kids were taught to meditate.

Dinner was fine, though Albany was more interested in eating the food Jen packed for us. So we compromised and did both. By then, the sun was setting. It was time to have the one-on-one session with our kids. I wondered how many dads attempted the conversation suggestions given to us at registration. I did. I wanted to do it seriously because I was there to discover more about myself, as a parent. In a tent alone with just your child, it felt like, perhaps, in the confession room. There was nothing left to do but to talk. To be honest, that didn't deviate much from our daily bedroom routine. We talk often during bedtime, since Albany and I are still room mates at home. The prompted questions were designed with a clear purpose, for both child and father to say things that were normally left unsaid. It was almost like the annual appraisal at work. I told Albany about her stronger qualities and asked her what she like and didn't like about what I do. There was also promises made for future activities together, which I fully intend to fulfill. 

As the theory goes, the child did adjust much better than the parent. Albany slept soundly later on. I was the one trying to find better angles throughout and woke up twice when the wind was so strong that it slammed the tent onto my face.  It felt like some kid ran and dived right into our tent from the outside. Nah, not at 3am in the morning. I went outside to inspect the tent the first time it happened, as I thought the tent had collapsed to the wind attacks. To my surprise, it was still pegged down firmly and none of the rope snapped. The tent went back to its original shape during the hiatus. "Good tent," I thought to myself.

By morning, Albany woke to her usual chirpy self, totally oblivious to the rougher night we don't usually experience. We went into a mini dispute when she went off playing rather than helping to pack things up. It wasn't that I wanted to be an asshole and deprive the little one of some fun. It wasn't that she could really offer much help anyway, in terms of tent packing. It was about instilling a sense of responsibility in her - something that was non existent in myself long until I entered adulthood. On reflection, it was detrimental to my life as a whole. I didn't want that to cripple her the same way. Although she was just four years old, Jen had taught her well. She could help out in a lot of house chores, such as cleaning, weeding, cooking preparation and even making coffee (3-in-1 types) for guests all by herself. Though I never fail to cringe throughout her coffee making processes, all done on a stool, she was a meticulous and always pull it off without a hitch.

The camp out allowed me time to realise my daughter has grown up a lot since tugging along with us through the unstable first years, moving from house to house on the average of once a year. She has opinions, preferences and will not hesitate to express them. I am happy with the way she is turning out. I have to push myself to finish as much work as I can around the house before Summer comes. I slacked off too much during Winter. By the time Summer comes, Albany will turn 5. I need all the time I can muster to focus on her.

The gap between the neighbour's wall and Savvy Steve's garage was annoyingly big. I reckon a little kid can squeeze though the gap, which may be a potential problem. A fat one may get stuck there, which is a ... well, bigger problem. The developer who included fencing in the land price refuse to do this portion for free, since it wasn't one of the conventional perimeter fencing. To put it explicitly, the contractor hired by the developer refused to do it, since it was a grey item and therefore a perfect income opportunity for them to profit on the private.

For months, I left that issue unresolved. It was minor, almost a non-issue to me. However for some reasons, the wife was particularly annoyed by the gap and nagged about it. I also noted the gap was actually holding back my landscaping plans around that corner because it was the rule to close any issues on the vertical side of a wall before moving on to the horizontal, to minimise double work. For example, painting the walls first before installing the flooring. Should that be done in the reverse sequence, the process will likely to be counter-productive and the outcome may very well turn out less desirable.

Installing a matching sheet of grayish 'colourbond' sheet, a flashing or whatever you prefer to call it, is stupid. Not only it'll cost me money, it doesn't look good as well. There are so many matching bricks lying all around the place instead. Why should I spite my own wallet when I can use bricks to seal the gap? The problem is, I am no bricklayer. I am bricking it.

Technically, that was the first time I did a brick job on my own. Trust me, it wasn't a very good task to start a bricklaying debut. The gap was really small and I needed to butter both sides of the brick. With my pathetic buttering skills, I had trouble getting the cement properly applied on both sides simultaneously, let alone laying the brick with the mud intact on both sides. What would take a skilled bricklayer a few minutes to complete took me the entire afternoon. I had to resort to using my hand to apply the mud, for my trowel handling in those limited space was simply not proficient enough to perform what was required. It wasn't time for self pity nor giving up. I wanted my job done. Regardless of the manner it was done, the end product must be satisfactory, if perfection was out of question. At the end of the day, I thought I had somehow nailed it.

After a clean up, my work was left to cure. By the next day, it had gained enough strength for me to give one of the brick a good punch. My masak masak had became a structure. That should be good enough to keep the big bad wolf around. I took stock and found I hardly used much cement for that job. I still hold a few bags of cement that Stephen dropped at my place some months back. So, it was yet another problem solved without spending my own money.

Yeah, I could have try selling my backside that afternoon and use the money to pay a bricklayer to do the job. Sadly, in Australia, the bricklayer will cost more than my butt per hour. Besides, I never believe in this warp logic. That is the reason why the other Singaporeans work extended hours and hire maids to enjoy their leather sofa and kids' company. Despite my serious struggles to complete the task, I learnt fast and furious, scaling that steep learning curve in double time being left alone to focus on my job, to learn and reflect.

One afternoon, Albany went to my brickwork and caressed it gently and said, "Daddy, I love you very much because you did a good job here." I wondered for a second if she would be as appreciative if I sold my backside to pay that bricklayer to do the job. She went on, ".... and also the floor in the house, the paint, the pavers outside, the stepping stones, everything. You are a great daddy, daddy."

If I were to bleed every ounce of weariness from my solo DIY projects again, I will still do it. 

Worth it.

I piss people off by stating the facts - all the time. I say them as they are as there is no point in sugarcoating stuff. The curious thing is if it sounds bad to you but you do not agree, why should that offend you?  You are your own man or woman. Your stand is your fortress and you live and fall by it. Why should you let someone's words affect you?

One of the most important benefits moving to a foreign country is being able to free yourself from the shackles of the past. It is the golden opportunity to start afresh. A rebirth, like a phoenix soaring the skies freely again, putting the memories of how she previously stuffed up ... to ash.

A random morning in Perth, late Spring, 5.30am

A new sunrise. Another frame.

A new start but ......

You'll be surprised how many of us are unwilling to let go of old habits, beliefs and mentality. No doubt these are cultivated during formative factors of an individual and therefore the basis of what that brought us where we are, change is inevitable to take us where we want to go. Changing what and who we are to pursue a worthy new goal isn't just admirable but absolutely necessary. Even if we fail to achieve our goal but it was not for the want of trying. It makes us a better person, regardless. A relentless pursuit to better ourselves. That is the least we have to try, to justify our existence in this world.

Never doubt the significance of sharpening your art of survival. It applies to every new migrant, regardless of your background, financial status or skill levels. The rules are stated clearly in Chapter 1 of the Book of Survival. The three qualities, prudence, patience, humility. The abilities, thinking out of the box, walking the extra mile, listening. The right attitude, the acceptance of delayed gratification, the willingness to make sacrifices and most importantly of all - being selfless for the loved ones. Never forget this. Our dreams are nothing without our loved ones. 

Because our loved ones are our dreams.

I will tell every migrant wannabe through their unsolicited emails the same thing. If you do not follow the basic rules of the Book of Survival, you are doomed to fail. You can call me negative, or a radical masochist, it's all up to you. At least I've walked 5 miles along this path to show for it. Have you taken a single step forward?

The above picture was taken after dinner just outside where I resided. Bare footed. For all I needed to do was to take literally three steps from my main door, hold up my inferior brand (with equally inferior specifications of course) and snap. No filter applied, no photoshop and absolutely no photography skills whatsoever required. Needless to say, the end product didn't do the actual scenery justice. However, that is the whole point of it.

I live in a beautiful place. 

Certainly not the most beautiful place in the whole. In fact, not even close to the top 100 locations in this country, let alone the world. Nonetheless, a beautiful place. Anyone who visited cannot deny that. By now, there have been a few individuals as well as a family who bunked this place. Judy, Tucky n wife, Angie's family and they will not be the last. If any of them think, "I could be like him," I wished they tell me about it because I will need to tell them, "No, you cannot."

I hate to be blunt. However, that is the truth. Not at the kind of odds I have been playing the game so far. After 5 years of Perth, I came to realise more about how different I am to other Singaporeans. Perhaps, that was one of the key reasons why I made myself leave in the first place, one that was unknown to me until the recent realisation. All along, records of my anecdotes in this websites have been done in a "If I can do it, so can you" tone. After all, I was an averager than average Singaporean, as ordinary as can be. If I can survive 5 years in Perth, why couldn't anyone else smarter, richer, more skilled or hardworking than me do it?

Sure, they could. I still maintain the same mantra. However, I have high doubts that anyone who think they can simply walk into this country with little money as well as knowledge of the country and do reasonably well will eventually do so, unless they are humble enough to start from nothing and learn from scratch. When I mean start from nothing, I don't mean it figuratively. I mean - start from nothing. Not by imagining it but living it. Like a fucking pissed poor undergraduate with no job. And I certainly don't mean that way you spend your last $11.50 on chopsticks. Like a virgin who doesn't even know how to insert without causing excessive pain. Trust me on that, if you are a virgin acting like you aren't, early life in a strange country is going to cause a lot of pain with just one small problem - you will be on the receiving end.

Every place has a set of rules we have to follow, badass or thuglife we can be. I have walked the path far enough to note the shortcuts, long ways, detours and the dead ends. I spent 5 years observing and living the shit shit and yet I still see Singaporeans coming in buying their $10,000 car in 5 minutes. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong buying that $10,000 leaky Nissan or paying a day's wage to speeding fines, for example. It is not my money. Other people can spend their money in whichever way they want it. There is also no problem refusing to open up options of accepting just about any jobs in the area to have a starting income and a credit record so that landlords or banks will start keeping away that ten-foot pole they wouldn't touch you with otherwise. No problem at all, some of us prefer detours, since we have petrol to burn. The problem I have are with people who refuse to respect the rules of survival and return to Singapore citing everything wrong about the place except the moron in the mirror. Perhaps that isn't a bad thing really. The more like-minded Singaporeans know about these 'facts', the better. Perth can do with less, much lesser, of this species.

The art of survival is a story that will never end. 5 years on, I have never let my guard down. I am under no illusion that my much improved living conditions are guaranteed. I look no further than one year beyond the horizon. I don't count my chicks. When my toils are through, I will start setting up contingencies for every scenario I missed. I shall never rest, for the things and people I love must be protected, or risk all being lost to complacency.

Only one who plough knows the exact soil mechanics of their land and if prepared to break his back to sow, shall reap. These shall come to nought if the rules of nature are not observed, respected and handled accordingly. Conditions at two different land will never be the same. Perhaps some walls are meant to be banged with heavy heads filled with fantasies. Some things are best left to be experienced, not told.