Faith Hope Love01

8/3/2019 Faith Hope Love01

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© 2011 Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected], [email protected]

Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter One

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13So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of theseis love. (1 Corinthians 13:13. ESV.)

I did not travel to escape. I was not looking for a way to lose myself or adapt. I was not

in search of peace, enlightenment, entertainment, or understanding. I simply went forgain. On a “business trip”, if you will. Get paid to travel? Could I ask for anything

more?

I had gone off on my own once before this. When I was in high school I ventured toEurope with a group of peers and some chaperones. This time I was an adult…a very

young adult…but one just the same. I left my apartment and roommate, new furniture,

old job (which I loved), car, possessions, family and friends to experience more of theworld…twenty four hours by plane and seemingly a lifetime away. I only took whatcould fit in my luggage and left the rest behind.

My parents saw me to the airport gate. There were tearful goodbyes (on my mother’s

part) and numerous hugs. I surveyed the group with which I was traveling. They weremy family for the next five to nine months. I was never one to stay put, really…a pilgrim

since the day I could spread my wings and fly. And exploring by myself came easy…I just closed my eyes and jumped…right into the deep end of it all. I knew I could swim.

The engines of the plane hummed steadily as strangers became acquainted, sharing

names and hometowns. A handshake and a smile sealed the deal as if to say, “I knowyou now.” A few had worked together before but no one looked familiar to me. We

were a crew of vagabonds, nomads that had jumped a means of transportation and wereoff to disappear into the sunset. The clouds were an ocean below us. And, our former

lives an alternate universe. Money was no object.

It was piping hot in Singapore. The sun warmed my face like the soft stroke of a handagainst my cheek. Stand in an enclosed place long enough and it turned into a sauna. I

grew up in Florida so the tropical climate was comforting. I cannot say the same foreveryone else. There were some complaints about the portable “potties” on our work

site. We did not have running water facilities. A person entered the restroom sticky from

humidity and exited it, after a quick tinkle, looking as though he or she had just climbedout of a swimming pool. It was hot, dang hot! But I did not mind so much. It remindedme of home.

The city was modern, spotless, and buzzing with action. The streets teamed with people

going here, there, and everywhere. Not a single wrapper or wad of gum defaced thegrounds. There was not the slightest hint of graffiti of any sort threatening buildings,

public benches, or other structures. Orchard Road was done up like a huge Christmas





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present. Was I in New York gazing at the Macy’s store windows decorated to the hilt?No, this place was too clean. I was in Singapore and the department stores were

sparkling, festive, and ready to welcome the holidays. Giant displays looked as thoughthey had come straight out of a storybook. The shoemaker had gone to bed and elves

went to work decking the halls overnight.

Without parental supervision we were left to our own devices…a small hoard of youngadults released into a foreign environment where the consequence for an infraction was

caning. I did not dare test the boundaries or push the envelope. With a crime rate of fourpercent I was free to walk about the city-state alone without a single individual bothering

me. No one approached me or harassed me. It was peaceful and stress free. Taxis

swarmed the roads like bees around a hive. There were so many of them…blue though,as opposed to the yellow ones that overrun the avenues of New York City. English beingthe “business language” made it simple for me to maneuver around. Women had a voice

so I could be heard by each and every man whether taxi driver, merchant, or doorman. Iwas empowered to get what I wanted or go where I chose, when I desired it. There was a

hint of a European undertone. (Not surprising since it was under British rule in 1824(before it became independent in 1963) and its legal system has its roots in English

common law.)

My condominium was brand new, completely furnished, and even offered a maid service.With a work schedule of six days a week from 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., and two

roommates, it was nice to have the help. The square footage was lovely but had plenty of surfaces where dust and dirt could collect. The front door was of heavy wood and

opened into a hallway which swept visitors into the dining and living areas. The floorswere a cool tile against the tired, sore soles of my feet. And white grout! Who likes to

keep light grout from turning gray? The outside kitchen branched off of the entryway…to which the door remained closed at all times. Bars were the only thing on the

windows, no glass or screens to hinder insects from investigating our housing andfood…plenty of room for a cat to fit through but too tight for a human. The pint-sized,

front load, stacked washer and dryer set sat waiting for action in a compact walk-inlaundry room (which resembled a pantry) where dirty clothes could easily collect and

take a person hostage…never to be seen or heard from again.

The main room windows opened into a large, cobble stone courtyard two floors below.The sounds of fellow employees danced through the air, filtered passed the drapes, and

bounced off the vaulted ceiling. A fan purred as it slowly rotated and pushed sultry airabout the rooms. The sunken bathrooms, bedrooms, and kitchen caused me to stumble

each time I missed the miniscule step while coming and departing. My modest sleepingquarters were nothing short of a single bed and wardrobe which matched the shiny wood

floors…perfect for one person.





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The night life flourished at a chain of picturesque European bistros across the street from

the complex where I lived. This is where I spent most evenings as I did not have a familywaiting for me at “home” to prepare and serve them dinner. Each restaurant front lead

into a dimly lit, nook of a bar or café area then opened through the back into a vastdinning patio of themed spaces packed with tables and chairs. This setup applied to each

establishment along the stretch of the boulevard except the one on the end referred to as“The Wine Cellar”. The atmosphere fitted its name and was reminiscent of the tasting

room of a winery. There it was not unusual to see lovely ladies sporting a glass of wineand escorted by gentlemen with cigar in hand or mouth.

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Faith Hope Love01