So it's been hot and humid. Every time I get back here I'm shocked by how I've forgotten the feeling of humidity on your skin when you're at the kitchen island, with the fan switched off because the stove is on because the wind makes the flames erratic, shaping pineapple tarts using a pair of Dough Forceps. Or just when you're waiting for the bus. Even at home with the airconditioning on, it feels like a mere, localized "absence of heat" (Panhwar, 2008)* rather than a truly cool environment. OK, dah menyampah? Baiklah, saya berhenti sekarang.

Ever since my first night back, Fatin has taken it upon herself to be my bedfellow. Of course, this brings with it issues we've already discussed on this blog. Currently, on Ridwan's sidetable she has 1 story book, 1 encylopedia on mammals, 1 note pad, a pen and a hairclip with two giant pink frangipanis. Meanwhile, pushing me to a small sliver of space on my side of the bed are her self, 2 soft toys (Lenny made a reappearance), 1 heart shaped cushion, 1 infant pillow she's had since, well, infanthood and THIS:

Exhibit A

I don't even know what that thing is supposed to be, but I do know it looks really happy for something at the end of a stick. The following exchange is my experience trying to elicit its function from Fatin.



I was confused. But since then, we've found other uses for the strangely shaped plush toy. Like fly genocide and hi-fives from an inconvenient distance.

In case you're wondering how my day job here, my Paediatric elective, is going, well I'm dead bored. So bored, in fact, that I'd rather link you to the blog of a friend who did the same elective in the same hospital last year than write about it because just the thought of writing about it is making me twitch a little. But as it turns out I can't find the post (Munirah, help!) so either I'm blind/illiterate or I imagined the whole thing to make me feel better about the boredom I'm going through now (and am anticipating for future weeks).

Some of the lighter moments I've had during my elective so far have absolutely nothing to do with being a medical student or in the presence of a patient. I've gotten really used to the Australian manner of friendly, easy greetings and conversation with strangers. By no means am I an extrovert. It's just a habit that took me with my shyness very long to pick up and now, hard to shake off. For instance, I was in the lift with two Chinese middle-aged women yesterday and every single line I uttered made them laugh - I didn't think I was THAT funny. (Or at all. I was being very matter of fact.) I also chatted up the lady at the reception desk and the hospital shuttle bus driver. I almost thanked the bus driver that took me all the way home because that's what's done in Australia - we thank the driver and give a little wave before we alight. I always have to fight the impulse to do it the first few days I'm back in Singapore, though I don't know why. Nothing's stopping me other than the thought of all the passengers, and perhaps the driver, thinking I'm loopy - but so what if they do?

*from a conversation between Somi and me while we were on our rural rotation last year, which, incidentally, was in Ramadan

So it's been hot and humid. Every time I get back here I'm shocked by how I've forgotten the feeling of humidity on your skin when you're at the kitchen island, with the fan switched off because the stove is on because the wind makes the flames erratic, shaping pineapple tarts using a pair of Dough Forceps. Or just when you're waiting for the bus. Even at home with the airconditioning on, it feels like a mere, localized "absence of heat" (Panhwar, 2008)* rather than a truly cool environment. OK, dah menyampah? Baiklah, saya berhenti sekarang.

Ever since my first night back, Fatin has taken it upon herself to be my bedfellow. Of course, this brings with it issues we've already discussed on this blog. Currently, on Ridwan's sidetable she has 1 story book, 1 encylopedia on mammals, 1 note pad, a pen and a hairclip with two giant pink frangipanis. Meanwhile, pushing me to a small sliver of space on my side of the bed are her self, 2 soft toys (Lenny made a reappearance), 1 heart shaped cushion, 1 infant pillow she's had since, well, infanthood and THIS:

Exhibit A

I don't even know what that thing is supposed to be, but I do know it looks really happy for something at the end of a stick. The following exchange is my experience trying to elicit its function from Fatin.



I was confused. But since then, we've found other uses for the strangely shaped plush toy. Like fly genocide and hi-fives from an inconvenient distance.

In case you're wondering how my day job here, my Paediatric elective, is going, well I'm dead bored. So bored, in fact, that I'd rather link you to the blog of a friend who did the same elective in the same hospital last year than write about it because just the thought of writing about it is making me twitch a little. But as it turns out I can't find the post (Munirah, help!) so either I'm blind/illiterate or I imagined the whole thing to make me feel better about the boredom I'm going through now (and am anticipating for future weeks).

Some of the lighter moments I've had during my elective so far have absolutely nothing to do with being a medical student or in the presence of a patient. I've gotten really used to the Australian manner of friendly, easy greetings and conversation with strangers. By no means am I an extrovert. It's just a habit that took me with my shyness very long to pick up and now, hard to shake off. For instance, I was in the lift with two Chinese middle-aged women yesterday and every single line I uttered made them laugh - I didn't think I was THAT funny. (Or at all. I was being very matter of fact.) I also chatted up the lady at the reception desk and the hospital shuttle bus driver. I almost thanked the bus driver that took me all the way home because that's what's done in Australia - we thank the driver and give a little wave before we alight. I always have to fight the impulse to do it the first few days I'm back in Singapore, though I don't know why. Nothing's stopping me other than the thought of all the passengers, and perhaps the driver, thinking I'm loopy - but so what if they do?

*from a conversation between Somi and me while we were on our rural rotation last year, which, incidentally, was in Ramadan