Since I didn’t blog about Pinas independence day, I was thinking that it would be distastefully unpatriotic of me doing so for my patron country of 11 years. But then again, we ourselves cannot acquiesce whether it’s June 12 or July 4, which gives me a rather lame excuse to do so.
Singapore’s 42nd national day was last Thursday. Not that I’m dilly-dallying with the greetings. It’s just that I was just pretty occupied on that day binge drinking with a Singaporean friend. The guy is perfectly a snug fit to Pinoy culture. Our drinking culture, that is: drinking to really get drunk!
Yesterday I was in servile with the company whom I expect to toss me out like a worn out rag in less than a year.
Before I really get off-tangent…
We flew here one year, or so, after our marriage and practically raised the family in this “little red dot, one degree north of the equator”. The years would be a dead give-away that we somehow come to like place. It’s a place we feel we can a give good headstart for our kids so uprooting back to pinas, or to any country for that matter, anytime soon is not on the radar screen.
I guess this is second home to us despite my not-so-many animosities to certain facets of life. Like you have to have a TV and radio (for cars) license, where the suicide per capita is one of the highest, where locals normally don’t brush their teeth after lunch making meetings in the afternoon a dreaded affair, where the length of the skirts is kept to the minimum leaving little to the imagination, where visible cleavage is redefined as the crack not of the bosom but of the posterior.
On the second thought, I’m taking back the last two.