Tropical Fruit: The Revolution
I am not all doom and gloom. In fact, I'm not any doom or gloom at all, despite what it might sound like from my emails. I don't find Singapore depressing, and it's not getting to me. More than anything I find it interesting to observe, kind of amusing, and indicative of the extremes to which all our countries and/or cities may go before we smarten up. Today, though, to assure you of how content I am, I thought I'd send a little email describing some of the simple pleasures of my last two weeks.
Obviously there's tai chi. I'm slowing down, being patient with it. Realizing that this training is only the beginning if I want to do this thing seriously, which I do. I've got a few years ahead of me before I'll even really be able to practice on my own. I'm committed to it, which means I'll be back in Vic as of March or so, and I learning. This whole long term realization thing is also allowing me to slow down. I don't have to get to a certain point by the time I leave. I don't have to cram in as much as I can. I'm here to learn tai chi, and that means letting go, not pushing too hard, but not being soft. It's a fine balance, and usually I'm tipping heavily one way or another. But I'm realizing I don't have to get it all now, do it all now, experience it all now. It's a relief.
Then there's the food. The main advantage to the fact that the Singapore economy seems to be based entirely upon shopping and eating (I have no idea why I see so few obese people) is the extreme of abundance of cheap, delicious food. Almost every morning I wake up, and if I don't have to practice immediately, I go for roti prata. This is, essentially, Indian fried bread with a curry dipping sauce. The Best Roti Prata in Singapore is less than a block from where I'm living (it really is the Best--not only is that the name of the store, but I have yet to discover better). There are many other cheap places to eat, drink tea, observe the street. Many of these are in little india.
And the fruit. . .well those of you who have been to the tropics know. . .and those that haven't do yourself a favour, pick somewhere warm, with a beach and spend three months eating fruit. Mango, mangosteen, papaya, watermelon, starfruit. . . all juicier and sweeter than the best produce we get in Canada. There is nothing like sticky juice running down your arm in the humid heat of the tropics. . .the only way to survive. I have also cultivated a taste for the infamous durian. This fruit tastes a little like garlic at first, then blossoms into a sweet rich flavour, quite indescribable, has the texture of an avocado and stinks so foully (to those that dislike the taste) that they don't allow it on public transit or in hotels. Today we went to a little island off singapore, pulau ubin (ie ubin island) which was literally covered in durian trees. It smelled great, and at the end of the day we feasted on this wonderfully garlicy sweet fruit.
Which brings me to contentment number three. Arriving on Ubin I was reminded of how tenacious life can be. One comes from singapore, the roar of traffic and crowds, and even just 15 minutes by boat away the air is quieter, cleaner, the people friendlier. Looking at Sing. on the way over I remarked at how the jungle there clings on only at the coastline--a thin buffer between the ocean and the asphalt. Arriving on Ubin the same jungle ran the place. Buildings that had probably only been deserted for a few years were overgrown, ruins really. Gives you real respect for the lasting power of places like Angkor Wat and Timbuktu. This ain't no wussy prairie grass--this is thick vine, creeping flower, mangrove and banyan land. I smiled, coming back to Singapore, because that same jungle, pushed to the edge of our land and counsciousness, will grow back. When the people go, on this island or some other, the rainforest will push back in. Within months The asphalt will crack and split with shoots pushing through, the skyscrapers reduced to ruins and shelters for the stray dogs and cats. Within ten years our cities will be unrecognizable. I'm not saying it's gonna happen tomorrow, or even this century, but it will happen, and when it does life will roll over our monuments to ourselves like we steamroll an anthill. This, more than anything else, gives me a certain kind of satisfaction.