Gone and Back

One of the things I always loved about Chicago was returning. From the plane, the city would emerge in the distance as a halo of light, becoming more distinct as buildings and neighborhoods began to make themselves clear in the skyline. There's Wrigley Field, the Sears Tower, the Hancock Building, Lakeview, River North. From the train, the city came through in stages - in the suburbs, on the outskirts, getting to the center, downtown, at the station. I felt most connected to the city when I came back. I'm here. I'm home now.

Singapore does not yet feel like home. I don't quite feel like myself here yet, and I don't feel as though I'm acting quite like myself yet. Despite work, I'm on vacation. I'm pretending at a life. My routines are coming into focus, but haven't yet gelled. It's a half-life. A pretending.

Of the many reasons for leaving this weekend, perhaps the greatest was to be able to come back. To bring my suitcase to the place where I will unpack my paltry belongings and begin again the process of settling in. This weekend was, in part, a celebration - of finishing, of moving forward. A chance to read and sit with my feet in the sand and my eyes on the horizon. But, perhaps most importantly, it was to be a chance to accept that I've truly moved. That the lights of Wrigley won't be greeting me upon return home. That I won't enter my foyer to find my bike anticipating the next ride. That the life I built over the last five years is changed. Is gone.

Back to Singapore. Home.

Can(not)

I'm not, in any way, proficient in Singlish.

(Def. Singlish: English-based creole spoken and written colloquially in Singapore. Although English is the lexifier language, Singlish has its unique slang and syntax, which are more pronounced in informal speech. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Singlish_vocabulary))

However, one phrase that I'm getting more and more accustomed to is "Can" or "Can Can", which means, generally, "Yes!" or "No problem!" I've heard it a lot since getting here. Taxis are cheap, and I've relied upon them somewhat when I've been out late with colleagues, so in the taxi - "Can you get me to [home]?"

"Can!"

"Any idea how I can get to [random grocery store/cultural sight/walking path/ATM]?"

"CanCan!"

My responses, unfortunately, make me sound like Wayne's World.

"Can!...Not."

I'm sorry, but I can't direct you to where I live, I can't quite understand if you're asking me how long I've been here, if my [nonexistant] husband is here with me, if I know the way to your bus stop, or if I have any particular opinion on the candidates in the upcoming Singaporean presidential election. I CanNOT. I want to - believe me, I want to be able to chat, to have an opinion, to have some idea of where I am and where I'm going, to talk with you and understand what you're saying to me. To CAN.

But, at the moment? I cannot. And there is little else that frustrates me so much.