Yep, that is what the title of this post is saying: I’m moving to Singapore.
(it’s so cool when I write it like this black on white because seriously, I still have problems believing it…)
It all happened pretty fast.
I went from “Oh, yeah, my boyfriend and I sometimes talk about moving outside of Europe for a while, you know, just for a different experience” to “WTF my flight to Singapore is in less than three weeks and I still have to pack my house” in a matter of a few months.
(I voluntarily omit the daily stress bunny/freak out episodes of the few months I mentioned above…)
I still don’t know why we decided to go for Singapore as experience-out-of-Europe destination, honestly.
For sure, the fact that both of us found a job there almost at the same time helped… Of course the prospect of a very juicy salary and the promise of a boosted CV were very attractive too.
But personally, the main reason is that I’m terribly curious.
Just the idea of living in a Country so different from what I’ve been used to for all my life is enough to make my chest explode with excitement and anticipation. The habits, the colors, the smells, the lost in translation moments, the new friends, discovering every single corner of a completely new and unexplored city… And of course also the bad things, like not being able to get used to the steamy humid heat, getting lost in the city exactly when you need to arrive in time for an appointment, feeling lonely and missing home (like desperately needing a Duvel, my favourite mainstream Belgian beer, to quench a moment of nostalgia and bursting into tears because a Duvel costs 22 Singapore dollars – yes, TWENTY-TWO = Fifteen
fucking euros-)… Things that are not that bad in the end, because they’re all part of the discovery and the process of getting used to a new home.
I just can’t wait for all this to happen.
slightly obsessed with Japan, but I never contemplated moving there for many reasons. But hey, at least I’ll be in Asia! And in Singapore there is an onsen. They have some of the best ramen restaurants in the world. There is a whole Japanese food supermegamarket, sort of a made in Tokyo Eataly (if you’ll be looking for me two hours after my flight from Frankfurt has landed, you can find me there *insert thumb-up emoji*).
No more hours spent hunting for Japanese and Korean cosmetics and skin care on untranslatable Japanese websites just to find out they don’t ship anywhere in Europe: I’m gonna have it all there, a ride of MRT away, offered to me on inviting shiny shelves by impeccable tiny graceful smiling (sorry for the series of adjectives, couldn’t pick up a favorite) Singaporean shop assistants.
There is a huge Kinokuniya, full of manga and Japanese books, where I can get lost while I wait for my wagyu dinner.
And the shopping (mostly, the window shopping)… Getting lost on Orchard Road, through the doors of Prada and the mirrors of Valentino, admiring weird Japanese designs and countless Bao Bao bags through the windows of Issey Miyake… My pain for loving fashion and not being able to afford it will reach a totally new level of self-inflicted torture. Can’t wait.
What say you, I sound a bit shallow because I talk only about food, make-up and clothes? Naaaaa…
No but wait, there is more.
Let’s talk about the islands of Malaysia.
Like, Pulau Rawa, just to name one. Apparently you can go there from Singapore on Friday night by a short minibus trip, spend the weekend on a white beach and in transparent blue waters and get home by Sunday night. Which means you don’t even need to take a day off to be in a tropical paradise.
I can’t even imagine it honestly.
I mean I live in Belgium guys. You need a raincoat to sit on the beach.
And what about Bali, Thailand, Borneo all a short flight away…
OK I admit I’m saying all of this just to try to forget I just signed a contract that binds me to work for a minimum of 42 hours a week, with 18 days of holidays a year (might sound very normal to Americans, but for someone who works in Belgium this will be pretty hard to get used to…)
But it’s OK.
I have an onsen I can go to every day.
Everything will be alright.
Now, going back packing.
Which leads me to the next post’s topic (just hope the next post won’t be again in two months…): how can a fashionista move to the other side of the world with only two suitcases and nothing else? If you have an answer let me know because
I’m tempted to book a last minute cargo container honestly I don’t…