Another week in Asia, another beach to sunbathe on; it’s a hard knock life. So the real adventures began last weekend when I escaped on a boat to the nearby Indonesian island of Bintan, popular amongst NUS students to relieve some stress of our day to day studies.
Yes folks, lectures began and the honeymoon period ended abruptly. My 15 hour weeks are only enjoyable because I belong to that rare breed of students who actually study something they love. Anthropology has never looked sexier here. My tutors are intellectual hippies and the course includes weekly documentary viewings with the first assignment being a detailed family tree. Additionally the course here is new and few students major in it giving us this interesting edge. When asked what we study the reaction to the response is always ‘wow’ ‘ooh’ and on most occasions ‘what’s that all about then?’. My degree is a great conversation piece opening up my friendship circle to include all the ‘official racial categories of Singapore’, a Malaysian, an Indian and a Chinese person. Each citizen must state their race to include one of the four CIM or O. O being ‘other’ – this is where I fit in. Interesting as I suspect the colour of my skin, being brown, leads people to the assumption that I am Indian. However conversation gets even spicier when people learn my parents were born in East Africa. My foreignness here is always inquired upon with great fascination.
So to escape the mass course packs full to the brim with journals on why Singapore lacks a singular national identity, I jumped onto a ferry eastwards towards Indonesia. An extremely hung-over morning led to us all arriving late, one of us sleeping in and having to hail a taxi all the way to the ferry terminal. On arrival to a land where cars are shunned and motorbikes rule the highways Nathalie, our local friend took us to some beach huts owned by Lobo, the local Mafioso and his wife. Everything was a postcard; white sand, clear water, locals working and a vast array of spectacularly coloured fish. We lazed around on hammocks while the more active ones amongst us rented bikes to cycle around the island. Having been informed previously that Lobo’s prawns caused food poisoning we were cautious when he called us in for lunch. A veritable platter of Indonesian delicacies including soya cake and mushroom chicken lay before us. However being a lady whose one true love has always been food I decided to take a risk and attempt a bite at Lobo’s fresh prawns with chilli. The sunset bought a huge camp fire, a fire blower and a very drunk Indonesian man who handed out the local Bintan beer as if they were fliers. Lying in the sand as the fire tickled my toes I had to admit I was feeling pretty smug. Stars speckled the sky like a salt shaker had been applied liberally to black silk. Whilst a mild grumble in my stomach assured me the seafood had been digested nicely I sipped my beer, let the sand get everywhere and toasted with my fellow exchange students. All i could think was 'Man, this is where I live now'.
