Across the SEAS

Incredibly rich in culture, Kyoto is one of the oldest and undeniably historical cities in Japan filled with temples, shrines, palaces, and landmarks. Despite it losing its capital title in the late nineteenth century, it served an incredible purpose of being one of the country’s most successful locations and a residence for the Japanese emperor for over a millennium. Compared to the young and modernized Singapore, Kyoto is highly culturally affluent, deliberately preserved in Japan as a spiritual and traditional East Asian city. Upon arriving to Kyoto, I was immediately struck in awe by its distinctiveness and its difference from any other westernized city I have ever seen before.

Nobles and elites during the later Heian period enjoyed the luxury of having privatized homes outside of the Imperial Palace, the Daidairi, called “betsugyo”, meaning a site for “side business”. They are retreats where hereditary landholders or people of high positions are able to establish other exurban homes due to their ties with the court and religious establishments -- both the Golden and Silver Pavilions (the former owned by Ashikaga Yoshimitsu and the latter by his grandson, Ashikaga Yoshimasa) are examples of these landmarked sites that have eventually been transformed into famous temples visited by many in Kyoto.

“Heian-kyo was meant to be a mononuclear capital: the imperial institution was the political, economic, and social center of gravity, and every constituent element of the city was oriented -physically and philosophically- around a single, unified public core embodied in the emperor and his palace compound” -- Stavros, Page 2

Patel, Sujata. “Bombay/Mumbai: Globalization, Inequalities, and Politics,” in World Cities beyond the West: Globalization, Development and Inequality, ed. Joseph Gugler (Cambridge, 2004)

I am following another blog, humansofspore, and several of the people highlighted noted a sense of loneliness and despair while living in Singapore. Every day is the same... there is no end. Those who struggle lack meaning and vitality in their lives. In an urbanized city, you encounter hundreds if not thousands of people just in one day, passing by, and though you are only a breaths away from them, you cannot be farther. The globalization of Bombay/Mumbai caused further disparage for the working class and increased the gaps between socioeconomic classes; inequality prevailed over success of the city, and the millions who moved and live there are struggling to stay. In some manners, for some people, Singapore feels the same: they are lost, what can they do? There is not much opportunity for people to simply freely decide that one day they would change their lives completely. Life can be inflexible sometimes in a globalized city.

But I also believe that there are still many positive aspects of urbanized life that were overlooked in this article and that are highlighted in humansofspore. Maybe not as many, there are still a few. My own cousin here is, though tired, satisfied with where she is right now. My mother’s friend is very well-off, though she is indeed lonely, but she still often enjoys times with her friends. Of course, they are middle-class and thus may not have that sense of struggle that many working-class residents do. So what can we say is representative of Singapore and Bumbay/Mumbai?

Those who are thriving, or those who are striving?

I cannot side with one and completely disagree with the other.

I met my closest cousin for the first time in nine years. She is fifteen years older than me, has a family here, and is established. Her happiness here is more than I could ask for. And her family is so incredibly beautiful. Nothing beats reuniting with family; blood still tells.

I also met my mother’s college friend for the first time in my life. Despite never having seen each other before, it was already as if I was rejoining with someone I have known for a long time, and the China in us gave us reason to feel at home with each other.

Although I have never been to this country, it reminds me so much of China -- but it is not! It is so diverse, filled with incredible places and people and things to do. It is so busy. It may seem like just another urban city with bland people, but I know there is still so much more to explore and it is still bustling with life. I want to know more of it. I want to learn.

Two days ago, a Malay lady in a dark purple hijab was quietly drinking her tea bought from a vending machine outside the classroom our program students take classes in. It was on the NUS campus. I was thirsty and craved some tea, too, but I did not have coins, only a two Singaporean dollar bill. As I was contemplating going to the canteen for change. the Muslim lady walked up to me and said the machine only accepted coins. I nodded and “ah-ed” in realization. She gestured to drinks and spoke in a heavy accent; I could not clearly understand her English and thought she was going to buy another drink, so I stepped aside. However, she shook her head and held some coins in front of me -- S$1.20 exact, just enough for a drink, and I realized that she was giving me change. I nodded again, and was about to hand her the two dollar bill in exchange, but she shook her head once more, dropping the coins into my hand. “For you,” she said, and wiggled her fingers when I protested. “It’s okay, for you.”

I thanked her profusely, bowing, suddenly feeling incredibly meek, but she only smiled brightly and waved. “You remind me of my daughter.”

To say I was touched was an understatement. Such a small gesture of kindness meant a lot (no matter where you were), but that you would experience that from a foreign stranger, that you would suddenly feel even the tiniest sense that you are at home, makes everything worthwhile.

To be honest, I was brought up by a traditional Chinese family who were wary of Muslims. My mother warns me that they are incredibly strict with women, that females barely have any rights, that they can be violent and oppressive. She was rather upset my own sister dated a friend who came from Pakistan and escaped from his Muslim family. Thus, I have always had this impression that people of Islam were not nice, and that I should stay away. But how unfair is that to the actual people, to judge all of them just based on their religion? It is just like judging a whole race based on their skin. None of that defines who each of them are. That unjustified fear and bias is unhealthy and prevents humans from opening their eyes. There are still so many people to see.

My school is amazing and has an amazing program: Southeast Asia Study Abroad. This summer of 2015, the students in this program have the privilege of going to Singapore, Malacca/Melaka and KL in Malaysia, and finally Kyoto in Japan. We stay in Singapore the longest and have already been to Malaysia, and we upkeep a blog to recollect our experiences and memories while on this journey.

Despite being born in America, I still consider myself Chinese. For the first time in years, I am again surrounded by a Chinese majority who speak to me as if I never left what I still consider home -- my mother and grandmother’s hometown in Shandong, Jinan. Of course, the Chinese in Singapore are completely different from those in actual China, but switching between English to Mandarin is incredibly refreshing, but it is both amusing and saddening to hear people say, “No way, you’re not American, you’re pulling my leg”, because though I claim a Chinese ethnicity, America is my home, too.

We take classes on this trip. My professors are right in saying: Though we do it just for simplicity, we cannot just separate the world into the East and the West, or the North and the South. That suggests that you can only choose one place to belong, and more often than not, it is unfair. My two homes are literally halfway across the world from each other; they are completely different, even opposites. But I can find myself being assimilated in both places, and I would not exchange this feeling of being torn yet being whole with anything else; I don’t want to belong to just one place. I want to belong to the world.