This City

           That’s the thing about this city –it’s charming, it’s exciting. The streets are filled with people, people from all sorts of cultures and backgrounds, with a multitude of opinions and desires. In Singapore, they find unique expression in being who they are. In the centre of the city, people get to be who they want to be, anything possible. I was once part of this scene, but four years ago I left Singapore to pursue a different life. Since I left, many things happened— some too much for me to handle. But somehow, I made it. In this town of Salzburg where I currently live, the loud, brassy city girl in me has been quietened by the gentle embrace of Mother nature. She is all around, and the mountains, the grass and the soil are with me. It is funny that I have chosen the other life, for I have not followed the “country girl in the city” trope that I’ve know from the big screen. My life here in Salzburg makes sense: The road ahead of me is lit, my future is bright, I love what I am doing. People around me look out for me and truly care. The possibilities are endless. Despite that, memories of Singapore are deep in me, and they need to be remembered…

           Something exciting first: It was in Singapore when I had my first kiss. My mom told me it was when I was four, and on the lips of the neighbour boy. Both his and my parents were  shocked. His parents were so shocked, that they apparently lifted him up immediately and carried him away from me, as far away as possible. I don’t remember the boy’s name, nor how he looked like. I haven’t seen him since I was ten when his family moved away. I find this to be a nice childhood memory, to remind myself that I was born with a fire in me.

           My childhood was uneventful, and my family kept to themselves since they were afraid of bad guys and bad things in the city. I spent a lot of time indoors, reading. Since I was of delicate constitution, I was physically inactive. In addition, I suffered from lead poisoning, so I don’t remember much from my childhood. But I remember my first year in secondary school. It was a all-girls public school, and we wore blue-white uniforms. We were scrawny and pimpled, but it didn’t stop us from wanting to form genuine connections with our classmates. I was especially close to this girl, who was a size smaller than me. She was bubbly and active, and we played together. We played hand games like rock, paper and scissors. She won probably a lot more than I did. I had a lot of fun with her and saw her as one of my best friends. She really liked that I was kind of calm and patient with her, like a motherly figure. During morning assembly, all of us would sit in rows under the hot sun and listen to the principal’s address. The girl sat in front of me and often leaned back to rest her head on my lap, which incited giggles from me. Then, one day, something happened and she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. I still don’t know why. After that, I didn’t have many opportunities to make friends in school. Not many people approached me anyway. I was closer to one or two people, but I made it a point to be away from everybody. I would rather spend my time alone, then be hurt again. If I saw a classmate on the bus, I would turn to look out the window.

           When I was thirteen going on fourteen, the Youtube craze was everywhere. I was a big fan of Macbarbie07, a beauty youtuber, who posted shopping hauls, fashion inspirations and makeup tutorials. I wanted to look like the girls on the streets, with handbags, heels, grown up-ness, freedom. I eyed especially skirts from shops, because they had an element of fun and girliness. There is an incident that happened about shopping. I had gone shopping with my mom very often before. But I wanted to go alone for once, without my mother controlling what she bought for me. I got my first mini skirt from a store and was excited to wear it. My mom bought a pretty top for me to match and one weekend, I got into this ensemble. I spun and twirled in front of the mirror, very proud of myself. I put on my backpack and took the subway to Orchard Road, a big shopping district in the hustle and bustle of the city. Because I couldn’t buy anything from the shiny luxury stores, I went into H&M and tried to buy as many things as possible. There were loads of nice things on sale: tops, skirts, accessories, hats. I felt the various fabrics, and touched the different materials. I picked out a few tops, skirts, and a wool sweater, which I thought looked exactly like the one in Macbarbie07’s haul. After taking them with me, I ducked into Victoria Secret and bought what was reasonably priced (a makeup bag, some mists) before going home. After exiting the train, I treated myself to Starbucks. I felt very proud of myself, holding all these shopping bags. It looked like I was someone important. I strutted down the streets, making the plastic bags sway. I felt like somebody glamorous.

            When I came home, my mother came to the door and saw the bags I was holding. She raised her eyebrows. “How much did you spend?” I wasn’t even sure. I looked in my wallet. When I left, I had around 500 dollars with me. Now, I had a kilogram of coins. I hesitated and said 400. My mother turned red. She pulled me into the room and with the door shut, began yelling at me: “How could you do this? Do you think we’re rich?”’

           I burst into tears. After three hours, my mother confiscated all I bought. I was relieved I didn’t say 500. It was a huge mistake on my part. I chose not to think about it and distracted myself with a book. A few days later my mother felt bad, relented, and returned my possessions back to me. Unapologetically I used the clothes and accessories to take pretty photos and posted them online. I felt good when people I did not know online said I was pretty or the picture was well taken. Within a month the fabrics began to fall apart. The wool sweater was shedding all over the floor, and since it was summer all year round, I sweated profusely whenever I wore it. I felt very bad that this was all happening. For 500 dollars and a scolding, these pretty things did not last. But my mother forgave me and we decided to get rid of the clothes. She wanted to get rid of all of them, but I thought I could still use the mists and the makeup bag. She let me keep them. A few years later, I threw away the rest of these items. They were only used once. I felt bad about being wasteful and throwing such pretty things away. But they were irrevelant, I reasoned with myself.

          The last year of secondary school was significant. It was significant, because I had a taste of what it was like to have authority. I had managed to become student conductor in our school choir. Thanks to talents at the piano, I was also the accompanist and sectional leader of the first sopranos. I was rather proud that I held three positions all at once and felt finally, I was somewhere. The unfortunate news was that I had to (excluding accompanying the choir on the piano), share the other leadership positions. Still, I was excited. As I took on these roles, it gradually dawned on me that I was seriously incapable of doing my job. A classmate shared the student conductor position with me. She was motivated and passionate about music. When she conducted, I saw she was earnest and trying to do her best. She had control over the movements in her arms and hands. “This part is quiet, but very lyrical, so sing a little quieter”, she said, indicating to the altos. As I watched her, I knew that when I conducted, I had no idea what I was doing. I just waved my hands around to the beat, so it somehow made sense. I looked down at the score. “Oh. This part does need to be softer.” A huge “p” for piano stood at the beginning of the section. I raised an eyebrow. I missed that completely. Well, I barely looked at the score. I wanted to be as capable as she was, but I ended up not doing so, because I somehow muddled through. There was another girl I had to share leadership with – the other sectional leader of the first sopranos. The girl would hog the section to herself. She was a confident one, and she radiated self assurance. But she had a big ego. When she sat, she sat with her entire bottom covering the full surface area of the chair. My toes supported me from falling over the edge of the same chair. I was constantly irritated by her. I felt, she didn’t give me any chances. Despite all these things, I did not let that stop me from enjoying this new power. I enjoyed commanding the first sopranos to “China”, a foyer for our rehearsals designed in a Chinese style and decorated with Chinese art. I enjoyed calling my fellow choir members as “people with vaginas”. They laughed when I said that. When I graduated, some of the girls in the choir liked me, and some didn’t. I felt bad about the dislike but carried on doing what I was already doing all this time outside of school - playing the piano.

           My career in music took off in the last year of school and after a piano summer camp, I travelled to Salzburg, home of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, for music lessons. In the meantime I took a half year break from junior college. Nobody missed me enough to ask how I was doing. I felt like a ghost that couldn’t even make an impression with my absence, but I was too busy to be sad. I made the entrance exam to the local music university and quit my education in Singapore. Then, I moved to Salzburg to study music professionally.  

        Europe has all four seasons. Did you know that? Nature was weird for me in the beginning. I didn’t understand why there wasn’t bustling streets filled with sneezing and coughing, neon lights or air-conditioned shopping malls? The greenery in Salzburg was wild and the paths rocky and unmanicured. I was confused. The trees in Singapore were always neatly planted along roads. In Salzburg, there were even yellow leaves. Singapore would have never allowed that to happen. Why is everything unorganised and natural? The two, three storey malls in Salzburg were simplistic in comparison to the skyscrapers of Singapore. The people looked different and talked in an entirely new language. They treated me different, too. Everything felt foreign, and even something simple like buying a bus ticket took me a long time to learn. I had to relearn everything. What was obvious for me in Singapore, became difficult in Salzburg. At the same time, my connection to Singapore was weakening. I travelled home twice a year, but since I did not make many friends in my school years, there weren’t many people I could connect with when I returned. I spent most of my time watching Netflix, visiting shopping malls, and eating street food. I had fun in that, so it was okay. I watched the people I knew get boyfriends, study for exams, have things to do. Though everything seemed to look great for me, I still feel like my life had not started yet. And my family knew, I wasn’t there yet either. This went on for two and a half years.

           In January of last year, in the depths of winter, I decided, I would do something with my life. Music, which brought me to Salzburg in the first place - wasn’t working out for me anymore. The stress of integrating myself into a new culture took a toll on me, and along with a series of career fails, I lost my passion for music almost entirely. I felt like a shell, and I wanted to make up for that. When I went back to Singapore in February, I decided to visit a hip hop class. There were two classes for beginners—the intro class, and the Level One class. I signed up for the Level One class, thinking I was good enough for it. I was wrong. The warmup was already challenging. The dance steps we were to learn, required a lot more body control than I expected, and I have never, in my life, seen such movements. The other girls in my class were way more advanced and I lagged behind.

One of the dancers came in late. I realised she was friends with two of the dancers on my left, as they made eye contact. I saw her look at me and raise her eyebrows at them before settling on my right. She had fake eyelashes on and drawn in eyebrows and was dressed in stylish leggings and sneakers. Her hair was flat straight, passing down her back. One of her other friends on the left wore dangly hoop earrings and equally dramatic eyelashes. I wore glasses and my mom’s running shoes. I felt so self conscious, I didn’t want to look in the mirror and see the person I was. I wanted to look like her – confident. I was lost. Towards the end of the session, the instructor assembled us in small groups to perform the dance in front of the entire class. I wanted to bury my head in the floor of embarrassment. I couldn’t face that moment. Then, it was over. I knew I did badly, so I shoved the moment into the back of my head. I watched as the instructor called out these three girls out to dance. They executed the moves perfectly. I was in awe. Wow. So not only is she pretty and confident, she’s also a really good dancer too.

             When the class was over, I approached the instructor, who looked like she was in her twenties and radiated confidence. I didn’t want to leave - I had to fight for my dignity, at least. I lamented I was bad at dancing and asked her for tips. Upon closer look I saw that the instructor wore green coloured contact lenses. Huh, so that’s the current fashion now? She was patient and explained certain things to me. As I continued to take classes, I worked as hard as I could on dancing, but I wasn’t able to get anywhere near those girls before I had to leave for Salzburg again. At the end of February I knew I had failed again, because I wasn’t able to handle what the city required from me, to be a shiny individual. But what was I to do?

           My arrival in Salzburg in early March was luckily smooth, but the Covid situation had worsened. By the end of March, schools and universities had closed down and all of us went into lockdown. I plunged into a darkness that I had experienced in bits and pieces my entire life, but now was all consuming. I held on to dear life. Then, I started to get a hang of things. Suddenly, I realised I knew how to speak to people, how to get along. And I knew how to make real friendships. My career took a turn for the positive, and many new opportunities came my way that I never even imagined possible. It was a start, but proof that something beautiful happened to me. Everything in my life, the unknown pain I had, never being able to make a lasting friend, being incapable of things - these ups and downs in the past humbled me and made me who I am. My life, which was chaos and disappointment, finally makes sense.

         I find it very funny, that when I was in Singapore, I only wanted to leave this place, a place that let me down time and time again. Yet, now that things have fallen together, I realise that Singapore was the place that shaped me. Now that I am here in Salzburg, she is endearing again. I realise, Singapore is the place where I spent the most innocent years of my childhood, the most naïve, sweetest years of my life. It was a time of no boundaries. I wonder sometimes if I can go back, but this current moment holds surprises around the corner I can’t miss. Finally, I realise - Singapore is my home. In these memories, I recover a feeling - a feeling, that everything is limitless and possible.