Triumphal March

Minor victory today--we made it to the library!  We've intended to go several times but have been deterred by weather or general laziness, but both kids were on at least a third re-reading of their "new" books and our need was dire.  We took the MRT (Mass Rapid Transit--the subway).  Both kids are pros.

At looking nonchalant, at least.  

I discovered when I was here in September that riders of the MRT can NOT hesitate either getting on the train or the escalator.  There's a massive crowd of people, and they will not politely let a lady with kids in tow go first (or an older person, or a woman in precarious-looking shoes, or anyone at all.  The name of the game is SHOVE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE IN YOUR WAY RIGHT NOW).  Also, eye contact is strictly forbidden.  I have a problem with this in general; I know no eye-contact is probably de riguer for public transportation everywhere, but I like looking at people.  And at home, I'm probably going to smile at you if you look back.  I've learned here that that's a terrifying thing to do to people and someone might call the cops on you for being weird.  Absolutely no smiling, and no eye contact.  So all three of us are working on our crowd manners for riding the MRT, though we made it there and back alive, which is always a great first step.

And we did make it! First, going to the NATIONAL Library totally thrills me as a fan of living in a city-state, AND as a colossal book nerd.  There are neighborhood libraries, but I may never go there because the  *National Library* exists (picture those asterisks as waving Singaporean flags).  Isn't this place impressive?  

The Central Library, for checking out books, is only in the basement of this building, but I'm going to have to find an excuse to use the research library on the upper floors, for certain.  Also, the children's library is fantastic.

Both kids were immediately content and I set off to sign up for a library card.  

Tangent: On our third day here, we had to go to a place called the Ministry of Manpower (that's a legit place and its real name.  It makes me feel like I'm in Orwell's 1984, especially because it's a sad government office in a sad shopping mall.) to get identity cards.  We're supposed to carry these with us so we can prove we're allowed to be here.  American bureaucrats, take note--the lady who helped us at MOM was super nice AND super efficient.  And she didn't order us deported when I laughed so hard at the the faces my son made for his picture for his IC that I was fully crying--two tissues worth.  You guys--he made this exact face, I swear:

And this is the BEST of what we were able to come up with:

I have a genetic predisposition to make wonky faces when I'm on camera, and I have passed that trait on to my son.  It is what it is.

OK, back on track.  So today at the library, I needed to present my IC and pay $53.30 for my "membership" to the National Library.  Simple enough, in theory.  To answer two quick questions I bet you have: yes, it's worth it.  I read more than $50 worth of books in a month, much less a year, and that doesn't even count the kids, who each checked out $50 worth of books today that might last them through the weekend.  This is a good deal.  Two, Singaporeans don't have to pay.  Their taxes cover their membership, and I'm ok with paying a fee because I don't have to pay those taxes.  It's fair.  And lending libraries are the greatest invention EVER, and I am thankful for them.

Anyway, I had checked the requirements online and thought I was covered.  I was not.  First, I needed an address, and though I don't officially have one of those because our lease contract is still being negotiated, I faked it and put down what I hope will be our address next week.  Next, I needed a local phone number.  Nope.  I can't get a local phone until I have proof of a local address (Do you see how I'm stuck?), but the nice library lady let me put down my email address instead.  Finally, I was pretty sure I was going to be able to pay with my trusty Visa, since it said online that they wouldn't take cash.  They wanted payment with NETS, which I don't really understand yet.  I'm thinking it is a local bank card thing, but I don't have a local bank account, because I don't have a local address.  Sigh.  Where the bureaucracy attempted to thwart me, however, the kindness of Singaporeans swept in to save me--the super nice lady let me pay her in cash even though that's not strictly allowed (and yes, gave me a receipt so I'm sure she didn't cheat me), possibly because I might have looked desperate at the thought of going home bookless and braving the MRT again tomorrow.  But did I have $53.30 on me?  Darling, that would be easy!  Nothing is easy.  So then I walked across the street, found an ATM, used it, popped next door to the 7-11 to get some Pocky (green tea and strawberry flavors, YES!) for tea time to get small change, and came back for to get my membership card. 

Success!

And then we checked out our books and headed home.  We stopped at the grocery store, which is a whole 'nother post, but the trip took us almost four hours.  And that's why everything is exhausting when you move to another country, and why I am so thankful for the kindness of strangers (without all of Tennessee Williams' dark irony).

Final tangent: Tuesday, the kids and I got lost in a mall.  We met my husband's new office colleagues for lunch, then stayed in the mall when the work people went back to work to do a bit of shopping for fun craft supplies.  We couldn't find our way out, so of course I bought some more stuff to soothe my anxiety at the thought of being stuck in the mall forever and pacify my patient but foot-sore children.  Four stores and a box of chocolates later, we did find the right exit from which to call Uber. I asked the security guard, "May I meet an Uber here?  And as charming Singaporeans do, he replied, "Can."  This is my favorite affirmative response ever.  On our second-to-last attempt to leave the mall we stopped in The Gap, because they had $8 t-shirts, which are my kryptonite.  As I was checking out, the clerk made conversation.  "Where are you from?"  "Texas," I replied, like a good Texan.  "Really? You don't have that draaaawwwl.  We can always spot Texans because of that."  The way he said draaaawwwl was perfect, and so funny.  And like the library lady today, that clerk's friendliness kept me from being grouchy when I was failing at the simplest thing.  With some help, I may yet continue to rack up very small wins.