(no subject)
a strange thing has happened unexpectedly. i've started referring to chicago as 'back home'.
it slips out every time i'm not conscious of my words or thoughts and i realize i identify with the city now, almost as i identify with a person. the chicagoans think chicago is a man with a toolbelt - yes, a simple midwestern man with good manners and practical skills. we share together a good steak, harsh winters and bus rides. somehow i find the people in chicago to be much more personable (not at my university, though!) and less irritable than singaporeans. carol and i think it might be because of the prickly heat we get here.
today my brother ate a bowl of 'famous' curry mee. he had queued for it in the heat, and then he sat in the heat and ate up every single explosive morsel, slurping the fiery soup enthusiastically. by the time he was done, his face had broken out in a heavy sweat and he was completely flushed. i said it would be completely impossible for me to eat it unless i was out in a wintry cold climate. unknowingly, my body has become acclimatized to chicago too. the air-conditioned malls are sometimes warm on my skin, and i have not been able to ingest the curries and laksa i used to love without feeling slightly nauseated by the thought of the coconut milk and heat they coat my tongue with. the way i dress is different as well, i care less about what i wear here, preferring to dress in accordance to the weather.
and there aren't any local plays that i want to see right now, which is rather disappointing. my room no longer feels like my room - it is rather bare and there are random things like crutches (from one of my brother's accidents) and air purifiers stored here and not removed even though i'm back. this reluctance to do anything concrete because my time here is so evanescent is what disturbs me most i think.
but i think even if everything else becomes a distant memory, i will still miss the early sleepy breakfasts of nasi lemak, teh and kaya toast. watching the uncles and aunties sitting at the plastic orange tables and stools with the little red mugs of teh and kopi, eating simply buttered and charcoal grilled bread. eating in silence with each other - not a harsh silence, but one that comes after many years of marriage - a deep and different kind of love that none of us can understand and probably doesn't exist any longer. a fiercely asian kind of love, a love that Eric Khoo captured beautifully in BWM, i think.
it slips out every time i'm not conscious of my words or thoughts and i realize i identify with the city now, almost as i identify with a person. the chicagoans think chicago is a man with a toolbelt - yes, a simple midwestern man with good manners and practical skills. we share together a good steak, harsh winters and bus rides. somehow i find the people in chicago to be much more personable (not at my university, though!) and less irritable than singaporeans. carol and i think it might be because of the prickly heat we get here.
today my brother ate a bowl of 'famous' curry mee. he had queued for it in the heat, and then he sat in the heat and ate up every single explosive morsel, slurping the fiery soup enthusiastically. by the time he was done, his face had broken out in a heavy sweat and he was completely flushed. i said it would be completely impossible for me to eat it unless i was out in a wintry cold climate. unknowingly, my body has become acclimatized to chicago too. the air-conditioned malls are sometimes warm on my skin, and i have not been able to ingest the curries and laksa i used to love without feeling slightly nauseated by the thought of the coconut milk and heat they coat my tongue with. the way i dress is different as well, i care less about what i wear here, preferring to dress in accordance to the weather.
and there aren't any local plays that i want to see right now, which is rather disappointing. my room no longer feels like my room - it is rather bare and there are random things like crutches (from one of my brother's accidents) and air purifiers stored here and not removed even though i'm back. this reluctance to do anything concrete because my time here is so evanescent is what disturbs me most i think.
but i think even if everything else becomes a distant memory, i will still miss the early sleepy breakfasts of nasi lemak, teh and kaya toast. watching the uncles and aunties sitting at the plastic orange tables and stools with the little red mugs of teh and kopi, eating simply buttered and charcoal grilled bread. eating in silence with each other - not a harsh silence, but one that comes after many years of marriage - a deep and different kind of love that none of us can understand and probably doesn't exist any longer. a fiercely asian kind of love, a love that Eric Khoo captured beautifully in BWM, i think.