A Residential Experience

Today, I became an official Singaporean local, or, at least, in the eyes of a group of Chinese tourists.

On my way to lunch, two guys stopped me on the street to ask for directions to the nearest subway.

I didn't hesitate. "Walk a couple of blocks to the Buddhist temple and turn left on Irrawaddy. Walk up the hill. You'll see the national police center on your right. Stay on Irrawaddy and walk down the hill. At the bottom of the hill, you'll see the Novena mall on your left. That's where you'll find the MRT," I said.

One of the guys rolled his eyes because he was hoping for a shorter walk. "It's the nearest train station. I know because I live here," I replied, wishing him a pleasant stay as he turned to walk away.

It's been almost three months now since I deboarded the plane from America. That's not a tremendous amount of time, but I guess it's long enough to pick up the appearance of a local.

It was nice being able to offer confused tourists assistance because I've certainly asked for my fair share of directions.

The same kind of metamorphosis happened to me when I moved to New York City back in the 1980. For a few months, every lunatic on the streets of Manhattan seemed to pick me out of the crowd as a target to be hassled. Then, almost overnight, it stopped. Former Mayor Ed Koch referred to it as newcomers gaining the "New York look," a look of confidence that told others he belonged in the city.

Legally speaking, I am a Singaporean resident, and I've got a work permit to prove it. Last week, I filled out a form that asked my country of residence. I paused for a second, mulled it over, and then marked Singapore. It's a bit surreal, considering that at this time last year I was teaching in a small, rural town in Georgia, wondering if I'd ever take the steps to try to teach abroad.

Being a Singaporean local has its share of privileges, especially crossing boarders. Rather than going through the immigration line for foreigners, I exit the country through the "Singaporean citizens and residents" line.

That involves swiping my passport, giving a thumbprint, and I'm finished.  No passport stamp. No questions asked. Coming back into the country, it's the same easy procedure.

Not bad for a small-town Georgia boy, or I should say, a Singaporean resident.