8/3/2019 Faith Hope Love: Chapter Three
1/2
2011 Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected],
[email protected]
Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Three
1
When I first moved to California, I lived in a part of the Los
Angeles (L.A.) area. Littertumbled like weeds along streets and
sidewalks, freeways were grossly congested, and
there was always this brown haze that lingered about in the
atmosphere. Some days Icould barely make out the downtown L.A.
skyline. After moving to Northern California,
the L.A. funk became more noticeable to me each time I made the
trip back and drovethrough. It hovered like a gray cloud forbidding
the sun to break througha toxic mist
that covered the city like a blanket.
The air quality in Singapore was monitored daily due to fires in
Indonesia. On gooddays, locals went about their business
unaffected. On bad days, each sported a surgical
mask. Being I am originally from the sunshine state of Florida,
I was not used to
checking the PSI (Pollutant Standards Index) or API (Air
Pollution Index) each day. Thehighest PSI reading of record in
Singapore was, around the time I was there, inSeptember of 1997. It
was listed as very unhealthy. Fortunately for me, the managers
of the company for which I worked made sure I was well informed
and looked out for myhealth and well being. Otherwise I would have
been clueless.
There are very few smells sweeter to me than after it rainsthe
fresh, wet, clean, vibrant
fragrance of the earth as it rises into the heavens. Gazing out
the window as the dropsfell to the ground, saturating everything
within its reach, stirred up a desire within me to
race outside and take in a deep breath. This was the case the
day I visited with acolleague and it began to pour. (Her unit was
located just across the cobblestone
courtyard from mine.) The moment the downpour stopped I promptly
made my waydown the stairs to the damp grounds below. I let the
after-rain-smell fill my nostrils but
to my ghastly surprise, the scent was not as I imagined it to be
at all! Rather it reeked ofwet dog! My face contorted and I quickly
covered my nose as I raced home. In my
opinion, the climate in Singapore was tropical and similar to
that of Floridahot, humid,without truly formed diverse seasons, and
with adequate rainfall. After my wet dog
experience, though, I hesitated to bask in the aromas following
precipitation. Admittedly,it was not always that of a damp mutt.
Other days the odor was quite pleasant, alluring,
and relaxing like springtime in a lush field full of wild
flowers and white butterflies.
Ten hours a day, six days a week were spent at work. My time off
was used exploring
the sights and Singapore lifestylewhether it was shopping on
Orchard Road, atTakashimaya, ordering (or watching others request)
stingray, satay, or various differentSingaporean cuisine at a
hawker stall, indulging in Mongolian Barbeque, hiking,
grabbing a bite to eat at Boat Quay or Clarke Quay along the
Singapore River, or sittingdown with a Singapore Sling at the
Raffles Hotel.
One afternoon at work, and I honestly cannot remember how this
came about, my
colleagues approached me, said they were making a coffee run
during our one hour
8/3/2019 Faith Hope Love: Chapter Three
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2011 Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected],
[email protected]
Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Three
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break, and did I want to come? We could make it there and back
in sixty minutes?! Iwas not quite convinced but always up for an
adventure, I went. The second our break
began we bolted from the venue, ran across the street, through
an open piece of land, andwent down the stairs to a train platform
I did not even know existed. My heart pounded
as each minute mattered. Tick tock, tick tock, we passed station
after station. I had noidea where we weredowntown maybe? I made
sure to stay close as the cars stopped
and the doors opened. On the heels of the person in front of me
we winded our way tothe store front. There was a line! Would be
have time? I was not even a coffee fan!
Why was I here, again? I asked what was good. Try the frozen
drink, I was told.One blended beverage with whip cream, please.
The group waited for everyone to make it back out of the shop
then we were off andrunning again! This time the path reversed. I
must not lose the way and get lost! Ticktock, tick tock. It was
going to be close! And no one could afford to be late! There
was
no margin for error. How many times had they made this venture?
We inhaled ourdrinks as we blew through one terminal after the
next. On what colored line were we?
Was there a map at which I could look? Screeching halt, doors,
onward ho! Twominutes left! Hustle! We crossed the finish line
without a moment to spare. Phew, back
to work.
Whenever in a foreign place, I find comfort in familiar
things---whether it is food,activities, or people. Because I am
American (and grew up across the street from a lovely
Japanese woman who used to cook wonderful things for me to eat),
I am drawn, like amoth to a flame, to stuff that reminds me of the
United States (and Japanese cooking).
One evening when I was in Switzerland, my peers and I ran into
another posse of Yanks.While these individuals were complete
strangers, it felt as though they were long lost
pals. We were ecstatic to see them and they were likewise
overjoyed.
When a second set of workers from the States came to Singapore
to do advertising for ourorganization, there was a feeling of
familiarity at first sight. We visited them at their
location, went out to dinner, took a walk, and just chatted it
up. However, once I realizedone of them was flirting with me I cut
the rest of my time with them short. Flattered, yet
not interested.
