It’s been exactly a month since I’ve arrived to the United States for exchange now; it has not been easy adjusting to the new environment. I miss my $3 hawker food, I miss 24-hour eateries, I miss the convenience of Singapore’s public transport. And above all, I miss being “one of them”—the feeling that you belong at home.
I don’t know why it feels so important to feel at home. Maybe because I need affirmation of my belonging? Maybe because I need affirmation that I am welcome? Maybe because, having belonged to the majority ethnic group in Singapore all my life, I am overwhelmed that I am suddenly not “one of them”? Because I talk funny? Because for the first time in my life, I suddenly have an “accent”? Because I need to consciously slow myself down when I speak, just so that I don’t accidentally collapse into Singlish in exchange for funny and quizzical looks? Because I have to try so hard to be another version of myself that I’m not accustomed to? Because I am not in a place where I can be “myself”?
But it’s okay. I have made a number of friends here that I have become comfortable to hang out with. I like how we share about our own countries, I like learning about what “normal life” is to them. I like how we share our similarities through our differences. I like how everyone thinks their accent here is weird, so much so that no one’s accent is weird anymore. I like how the canteen tries to diversify their food options, even though the Asian food is subpar; but what matters is that they try.
And in the blink of an eye, a month has gone by. The humid gust of air in Changi Airport sends me off, and the crispy coolness (soon to be chilly coldness) of Minneapolis-Saint Paul takes me in. One goodbye awaits another’s hello; and life is all about hellos and goodbyes.
I miss, I miss, and I miss home food. I miss my char kway teow, my mini hotpot, my chicken rice, prawn noodles, sambal stingray and authentic curry chicken rice. What on earth is a “Singapore noodles” in an American menu anyway”? Do you mean lor mee, char kway teow, bak chor mee, hor fun, or mee hoon kway? No, no, no. A budget haircut is $15? What do you mean? What about my $3.80 Snip Avenue cuts with noisy aunties questioning me “ah girl, want to rebond or not ah?”
Everything’s new, but that’s okay! Because eventually, nothing is new anymore.
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