Thursday, September 01, 2005
Customs and immigration
She stood with her back against the wall, dressed immaculately for "work", her immaculate, blonde hair slightly incongruent amidst the tides of black ebbing and falling all around her, looking alone, and lost.
As he neared, her eyes lit up.
She moved towards him, and he, to her.
Somehow, the country around him, his past and present melted away, and he stepped in to meet her. Perhaps it was just the association of germanic features with a world almost forgotten now.
Just a simple hello between friends, and sometimes even strangers - something he'd done for years abroad, something continental.
It felt warm, and familiar. Like coming home, after the longest day.
Just before they embraced though, reality came flooding back.
This was not customary here.
He paused, and they stood, uncertain, face to face, almost skin on skin. He smiled.
"Hello."
She smiled back.
"Hello."
******
There was something child-like about her, and her uncertain - but very sudden grins - that seemed to charm some of the people around her today. An authentic Little Indian restauranteer tried valiantly to explain every sauce he was spooning onto her place with what little garbled English he possessed. She just smiled blankly.
He wondered how pidgin english translated into german, and almost found himself giggling. (answer : ".......")
They spoke as they ate, and he reflected silently how well she understood the language.
As if reading his mind, she commented how easily she understood him...
... but not the other people in this country. Guess they speak too good english hor.
They walked side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders through the busy streets of Serangoon, both gawping like gawky tourists... which, essentially, they both were. Smiling at each other at times over silly things, sometimes her laughing at him over the smidgins of his half-forgotten german.
At one point, he picked up a blown blue-glass dolphin, toyed with the idea of buying it, then put it back down and thought something wistful to himself.
They explored two indian temples (colourful, boring) and one chinese temple (gigantic, beautiful) and many, many shops selling nick-nacks, ornate furniture, and lots, and lots of elephants.
She said how she thought people in this country were really friendly...
... he told her how wrong she was, and how very lucky she'd been today.
This was not the norm.
As he watched her mount the steps, alone, to her dormitary - he remembered what it felt like to be alone in a foreign country so different to one's own. Intimidating, scary, overwhelming.
It was an afternoon to remember. Not because of hidden romance, or latent lust - but because of pure and simple friendship, between two complete strangers.
As he neared, her eyes lit up.
She moved towards him, and he, to her.
Somehow, the country around him, his past and present melted away, and he stepped in to meet her. Perhaps it was just the association of germanic features with a world almost forgotten now.
Just a simple hello between friends, and sometimes even strangers - something he'd done for years abroad, something continental.
It felt warm, and familiar. Like coming home, after the longest day.
Just before they embraced though, reality came flooding back.
This was not customary here.
He paused, and they stood, uncertain, face to face, almost skin on skin. He smiled.
"Hello."
She smiled back.
"Hello."
******
There was something child-like about her, and her uncertain - but very sudden grins - that seemed to charm some of the people around her today. An authentic Little Indian restauranteer tried valiantly to explain every sauce he was spooning onto her place with what little garbled English he possessed. She just smiled blankly.
He wondered how pidgin english translated into german, and almost found himself giggling. (answer : ".......")
They spoke as they ate, and he reflected silently how well she understood the language.
As if reading his mind, she commented how easily she understood him...
... but not the other people in this country. Guess they speak too good english hor.
They walked side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders through the busy streets of Serangoon, both gawping like gawky tourists... which, essentially, they both were. Smiling at each other at times over silly things, sometimes her laughing at him over the smidgins of his half-forgotten german.
At one point, he picked up a blown blue-glass dolphin, toyed with the idea of buying it, then put it back down and thought something wistful to himself.
They explored two indian temples (colourful, boring) and one chinese temple (gigantic, beautiful) and many, many shops selling nick-nacks, ornate furniture, and lots, and lots of elephants.
She said how she thought people in this country were really friendly...
... he told her how wrong she was, and how very lucky she'd been today.
This was not the norm.
As he watched her mount the steps, alone, to her dormitary - he remembered what it felt like to be alone in a foreign country so different to one's own. Intimidating, scary, overwhelming.
It was an afternoon to remember. Not because of hidden romance, or latent lust - but because of pure and simple friendship, between two complete strangers.
