There are a few signs that you’ve lived in Singapore way too long: (1) the 32 degrees (celsius) in ‘winter’ feels significantly cooler than the 32 degrees in summer and you find yourself reaching for a cardigan (or ‘jumper’ as we say in Australia). (2) You pronounce the number ‘three’ as ‘tree’ and pluralize words that are already plural eg underwears, and (3) you have a profound fear of the sun.
This fear of the sun will have you wearing long sleeves during the day, using umbrellas when it is not raining, and pavement-stepping like Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets in search of bits of shade to protect every other exposed part of you from those rays. You are prepared to fight people for that shade.
I grew up in Australia where my misspent youth was devoted to sun worshiping doused in coconut oil or baby oil. That was how we spent the most part of our holidays at the beach or the pool. A tan was a sign of good health and fitness. Historically, in western societies it was also associated with prosperity ie you have the time and income to be laying around in the sun, while white skin was associated with being sick or elderly.
So when we first arrived here 10+ years ago, we were amazed to have our condo pools to share with just a few other Australians and Europeans. The locals and Japanese expats only came out after 4pm if the sun had passed and even then they were still covered head to toe. This seemed like a perfect arrangement.
It took a couple of years for me to realize there was a direct correlation between sun and aging after attending a joint birthday party for a 40-year-old Singaporean woman and 40-year-old Australian. They did not look the same age; more like a decade separated them.
And so today, I am as Singaporean as you can get and I will walk the extra distance if it means I am out of reach of that demon sun.