Dilemma

As I sank into depression, panged with extremed homesickness and tossing the idea of packing my bags, a good friend here advised me to list down the pros and cons of staying versus leaving. I spent countless nights sorting out my random thoughts.

Reasons why I should stay:

i) My current term may have sucked and I have to endure this for another 3 months. But my potential job at the glittering city of Sydney in my area of interest offers new hope with flooding opportunities and possibly valuable training. The prospects of being a specialist there is indeed enticing. Once back home, I would be giving up my dream of specialising and settling down with a mundane but established and hopefully flourishing GP career.

ii) My very initial purpose for relocation was to get away from the hustle and bustle of the hectic life, as well as the monotonous routines that I have lived with for at least the past 5 years. Having armed myself with years of working experience and training, and not having a family (ie a husband and kids), this is perhaps the best time for me to experience an alternative lifestyle and find a comfortable niche for myself hopefully.

iii) Being a laidback individual in every sense, I like to do things at my own pace, including passing exams. I am frankly tired of the rat race of having to fulfill my tour of duty by a certain age which would be deemed conventional and conforming. Being a GP itself is a respectful and decent career, but unfortunately sometimes looked upon by other "more prestigious" specialties with condescent and disdain. The different outlook of life and culture here would have been more suitable for me.

iv) The above would have applied to my social life as well. As much as I would have loved to settle down and have 3 kids like my contemporaries back home, I feel that it is beyond my control and I would prefer to let nature take its course. Unfortunately our Asian culture and society in general have been rather harsh with the singles, who frequently become the talk of the town, government concerns and even the theme of our local movie production. This is one aspect which I will never approve of and is a major push factor for me. We should be left alone to lead our own lives and be recognised for our contributions to society rather than our marriage status.

v) The increasing prevalence of elitism in my cohort is stifling and superficial, as is its existence in most Asian societies and perhaps even our British contemporaries. The constant shallow chasings for higher social status, more monetary wealth and trophy spouses to add on to the glamour, erode all sincerity and encourage fair-weather and materialistic alliances. It is not all that perfect here among my few Asian friends but to a much lesser and horrendous degree.

vi) Everyone noticed the healthy glow on my cheeks and lesser dark eye rings when I returned for a break. The soothing weather here has done justice for my physical well-being, coupled with greater opportunities to do outdoor exercises. The hazy pollution and humid climate back home was indeed smothering and asthma-inducing. I find it ridiculous having to pay for a gastronomous gym membership just to keep our adrenalines pumping.

vii) The patients here are generally more pleasant to treat. They are less ignorant and tend to know their conditions well. Although I did encounter difficulties initially with communication, this has since improved and I am able to build satisfactory doctor-patient relationships with majority of them. There is a certain level of trust, which sadly is slowly fading within my own cohort. The numerous and senseless 6-paged complaint letters that my colleagues back home had received were put-offs and shameful.

viii) I have been here for only 8 months. It would be a loser of me to quit and leave now. I need to give myself and Oz another chance. It is a training ground for me in terms of life experiences and independence. I had given myself a trying period of 2 years initially. Perhaps things may turn out better....

Reasons why I should leave:

1) Homesickness is the foremost and heaviest pull factor. My parents are the love of my life now and I am striken with a deep sense of guilt for not spending more time with them as they go through the golden years of their lives. I felt so loved and at home when I was back with them, in my comfort zone, where everything was so familiar and convenient.

2) I treasure and appreciate my friends back home even more. The very few ones who know where I am now, their undying support and encouragement for me, and their precious attention for me when I was back, were testimonies of how fortunate I ought to feel. My social arena here is miserable but there are a few deep friendships that have been made and hopefully will last. Of course there is a fair share of nasty or superficial encounters both at home and here, which I reckon would exist everywhere as long as there are homosapiens.

3) Working life has not been a bed of roses for me recently. I was introduced to the concept of racism, with the worst spate over the last 2 months. The tide has subsided but the bitterness lingered and the scar deep-seated and unerasable. I am unable to feel any commitment towards my job at this moment, and am counting down the days when my current contract would end so that I can move on. There is no inspiration and substantial learning opportunities for me now and I do not feel any form of security nor sense of being valued as a trainee here. The politics amongst my colleagues are also unbecoming and excessive.

4) In monetary sense, I am losing a fair amount of income here, though it probably correlates to the amount (or less) of worktime that I am putting in as well. As a GP in downtown private practice back home, I would have made a fortune by now and established a name and reputation hopefully. And I have full confidence of achieving that if I am determined. The costs of living are perhaps similar at both countries, though I would more likely be laden with debts to afford a new car and a house in Singaland, which I hope may be partially obliterated if I do earn my first million by the next 2 years.

5) Safety is one aspect which I had taken for granted back in Singaland. Despite repeated reassurances, I harbour a fear of living alone or going out at night, in view of the prevalence of petty crimes and weekend drunkards here, which of course is uncomparable to the complexity of Sydney city. I do feel vulnerable floating all by myself here in the deep ocean and can only pray for God's blessings.

6) Finally, I hate this place. Specifically where I am staying now. Not other parts of Oz yet, since they would have been more urbane and closer to home. I do not have good feelings about the residents here. Most of them have not travelled out of their state and are thus narrow-minded and conservative. They do not welcome foreigners or other races. Usually they are superficially friendly. Sometimes they are simply hostile. Their attitude and behaviour put haloes on my own countrymen. I dread going out of my house at all. It is daunting being outnumbered. As an old pal had put it: "Beneath the greener pasture is a pile of deeper shit." I can't help but agree to this.

7) Time is precious and I am aging by another year in April. Should I waste more time here feeling miserable or go back home with no regrets. Life is short, so shouldn't I make the best out of it? And time with my parents....isn't it more fulfilling spending it with them than with myself?

I need enlightenment at this stage. I want to be happy where I would be.

"When it comes to the future, there are 3 types of people: those who let it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happened." (John M. Richardson, Jr)

Disappointment, Yet Again

I could feel the build-up of heat bellowing and clouding my brains. My temporal veins could have easily burst from over-distension and the pressure. I tucked in my food nevertheless, as the onslaught of insults and ridicules continued.

They were harmless actually. But simply irritating to the core. I felt that I may have had enough.

The sad point was that, it came from a good friend. Someone whom I had first acquainted with when I arrived at this new quiet town. He offered his friendship and assistance spontaneously and I greatly appreciated them. Even if he intersepted my trust for him with some packs of lies and acts of immaturity.

I didn't know why he was nasty yesterday. As he threw darts of baseless accusations towards me, I kept my silence and bore with them. But to utilise his strength of numbers and begin insulting my nationality and origin, that was the ultimate.

The rifts between our countries were longstanding and childish, but I had not anticipated them on a personal level. I have wonderful friends from most parts of the world, including our neighbouring ones. Perhaps the animosity had always existed and was only too subtle for me?

I am not nationalistic in every sense and I believe that no one is perfect in any country or state. Now I am beginning to understand why my close friend from home had chosen to shut herself off when she was here a year ago. Everything just falls into place nicely now, after half a year of experiment here.

I should consider doing the same. And start to be selective with my friends.

Amusement

My mum's voice was brimming with excitement when I called home after returning from Sydney.

"Remember Aunt Lee from Perth? She mentioned about introducing you to her neighbour's son? She called last night, asking for your number....."

I was amused, yet at the same time, bewildered. I could not believe I had to go through this, at this age and era!

I am a greenhorn when it comes to relationships. Yes, I may have gone through some emotional tussles and a few futile dates, but nothing that has etched a deep-seated place in my heart...or well, maybe except for one.

Yet, I LOVE MEN TO THE CORE, and I want a normal relationship that would be everlasting.

As my past-thirtieth birthday approaches, palpitations and diaphoresis set in, actually more on my concerned parents and friends. I started receiving lectures of how I should lower my standards and what type of partners would best suit me.

One of the soundest advices I had would perhaps be from my good old pal, who was in every sense blessed by God: "Finding a partner is not about meeting the ideal or most perfect one. Rather, it is about both of you complimenting and making each other better individuals in your relationship and in your lives." Absolutely succinct.

I had a casual conversation with an Indian colleague today which turned out to be quite revealing. She met her husband through matchmaking by the parents in India and they were engaged the very next day. She accepted it well since it was, and still is, a common practice in the country. She was thankful for her parents' well-meaning efforts and has since been blessed with 2 lovely kids and an understanding cardiologist husband. Despite having received higher education through medical school in a modern city, she had willingly entrusted her life and future happiness on the basis of "wisdom" of her more experienced parents.

And she reminded me of my 2 other friends from similar backgrounds, having had their lives and future marriages already carefully planned out by their elders and were actively striking out their lists of potential brides through the meetings.

The "desperately-seeking" mentality was not just confined to the Asians, who view singlehood as one of the greatest sins on earth. A British friend of ours who was Jewish as well, was toying with the idea of relocating himself to the happening city of Sydney where his previously mundane social life would more likely be revived from the doldrums.

As for me, yes, I am resigned to the fateful fact that I may need to go through this dinosaurous practice, since my cells are shrivelling and my eggs starting to beg. Matchmaking is fine for me, as long as I am not expected to marry him the very (or next) day I set my eyes on him.

My criteria for the "complimentary" one still holds: Tall, tanned, quiet, humble....

Hope I don't have to wait long this time.

Emotions

"Are you crazy?", my good friend here exclaimed when he heard that I was going back home again, after just returning 3 weeks ago.

"Did something go wrong here?" prompted another pal who was probably now assuming that I was a spoilt brattess from Singaland, unable to take anymore hardship outside of my comfort zone and thus flying back to the cuddles of my doting parents.

My heart was crying out badly.

Yes, there was a minor setback that I have encountered here. And thanks to my heavenly stars, I had the timely assistance and honoured support from my superiors and friends. The matter was settled but the bitterness lingered.

Going home this time was a short but sweet reunion. Mainly it was for my parents.

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back" (William D. Tammeus)

Perhaps I should refrain from flying back home again. To save myself the buckets of tears at the airport and on the plane. The heartaches that could have made me crumble.

Or maybe I should just call it a day and pack my bags when my contract ends.

I am in this state of helpless dilemma. The fearful thought of my dad's recent anginal symptoms and his stubborn refusal to consult the cardiologist floated in my mind. I should spend more time by his side. And my mum's greying hair...

I tossed the coin again.

I am leading a valued independent life here with blessed cool weather, perfect for my physical health and complexion. The broad-mindedness and carefree attitudes of my friends here formed positive influences for my personal development. The doors for more career advancement and opportunities opened wide for me.

I prayed hard...

My parents are genuinely happy with their lives, having toiled and built their home, their family and bonds, their roots firmly on the ground. There is no reason for them to forsake their foundations and start afresh in a foreign land.

I should be happy for them. Although they would have wished that I would be like any other child, dutifully fulfilling my role to them and faithfully settling down with my other half, they realised the new era and the generation gap between us. They knew they had to let me go.

"The one who understands does not speak; the one who speaks does not understand."

May God bless me with the wisdom to choose, the strength of will to persevere, and the determination to succeed.

Colours

What an interesting weekend.

Having caught the trailer of "Hitch" during one of my movie excursions, I decided not to give it a miss and gathered my international alliance of friends-cum-colleagues for a good Friday night outing. The group comprised a healthy multicultural mix from Singaland, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, India, Britain and Jordan. After 2 hours of satisfying entertainment and laughter, the diversified us chilled out at the Wharf, exchanging our lives and cultures while savouring the piping-hot pies from the Harry's Cafe-on-the-Wheels. As we headed home, the streets were still bustling with young blondes and brunettes boozing their nights away in the various pubs.

We drove down to Sydney the next morning, with the sole aim of catching the per annum Mardi Gras celebrations, a high-profile and most daring Gays and Lesbians parade of the year. It is the loudest civic-rights demonstration in Oz and is brimmed with political and religious connotations.

The whole stretch of roads from Elizabeth/Liverpool to Oxford Streets were cordoned off by noon and curious spectators started parking themselves there 3 hours before the commencement of the event, with the hope of catching the best glimpses and snapshots of the parade.

We made our way to the destination at 8, just when the parade had started. The lure of the bright blue neon light and throngs of people heading towards the main site was irresistable. Amidst shrilling whistles and cheers, the multi-coloured floats adorned with the trademark rainbow emblems streamed along the roads, with entertaining performances and dances by the representatives from various ethnic groups and associations, some dressed controversially, others simply unattired.

The air was thick with humour and politics, with faces of the PM J.Howard and US President G.Bush making regular appearances, whether as the head of a "dragon dance" or integrated as part of the amusement, with "Bush" slapping the bum of the gyrating "Howard". There was also a spoof on Prince Charles and his aging mistress Camilla which was rather ticklish. We could not help but ogled at the well-toned 6-packed torsos of some of the male performers and the delicate features of their female counterparts.

After a fulfilling dinner at the Mokoto Sushi Bar when the performances ended (2 hours later), we made our way to one of the gay pubs at Oxford Street, armed with an open mind and an inquisitive attitude.

The party was certainly not over as the street was still littered with large crowds of merry-makers and spontaneously gyrating transgender street performers. There was minimal trouble and crime, with hordes of patrol police stationed on their stylish horses and on the ground. The displays of human rights and freedom were evident.

As we joined the long queue outside the pub, I was particularly conscious of our only female presence amongst the XY majority. Our male companion was reluctantly dragged to join us, much to his exasperation and discomfort. It was only when we offered to pay for his cover charge that he eventually relented.

It was an eye-opening experience for us. We did not feel a tinge of intimidation despite the large population of males and were intrigued by the open displays of affection among the pubbers. The music was engaging and the "sights" fascinating. After a drink and some "touchy-feely", it was with satisfaction and awe that we left Sydney in the midst of the night back to the highway for home.

That was indeed a unique way of spending an entertaining evening and night.

Oxford Street

Three plucky gals decided to explore one of Sydney's most happening hangouts on a weekend evening. Oxford Street, situated at Darlinghurst, where a prestigious hospital intersects, has been a popular haunt for individuals with unique sexual preferences and is laced with rows of gay bars and cuisine restaurants.

Traffic on a Saturday night in Sydney was harrowing. The weather was chilly after a drizzle, and tad unnatural for the summer. Having dressed up in their slingy clubbing attire, the adventurous trio were certainly not prepared for the merciless winds and upcoming sleazy encounters at the alleys.

"Hey gals, listen..." they heard a shout from the back and turned around. A tall middle-aged man in his windbreaker caught up with them.

"Some people I've met really dressed like freaks. But I must say you are one of those few who dresses pretty well in your attire....or less...." he commented, leaning closer to the one in her slender rose-pink sleeveless blouse.

They froze with fear and hastened their footsteps, ignoring his suggestive passes. Thankfully he walked away after.

Having been slightly traumatised and while battling the bellowing winds, they decided to warm up instead at an Indian restaurant for a late supper before heading for some bubble tea in the Chinese outlet. They relaxed amply in the quietness and solitude.

Curious to visit one of the more popular gay bars, they discovered to their dismay a long queue forming outside the entrance and aborted the plan, resolving to return in future, perhaps with a bigger company. The display of such intriguing characters with interesting mannerisms along the street nevertheless awed them.

As they plodded back to the car, they were again accosted by a group of strongly European-accented boys asking in their tipsy state: "Excuse me, can you tell us where we are now?.... Where's King's Cross? (Red light district in Sydney) ...."

Pointing to the adjacent road, one of the trio replied: "Cross the road!" before scurrying away.

Perhaps they were just not used to the culture yet.

Sleazy.