Global Immersion Programme Ecetera

I know I'm supposed to immerse myself in the culture and learn from it and all - and yes, I'm doing that in class and learning about the rich history and paradoxical social fabric of this wondrous nation, but something's beginning to gnaw at me, and that's the fact that the mess hall here seems to serve (by which I mean my Singaporean tastebuds might be wonky and not a testament against the cooks at this school) food that despite a variation of colours, taste exactly the same. By which I mean the curries and whatever (second part of why I'm apologising - yes, this is an apology of sorts - because I'm too lazy to remember the names of the foods and all) come in different colours, but have that slight spicy-tangy-savoury taste. They usually have little bits of unrecognizable vegetables swimming in them, and come in white, green or yellow. Sometimes it's runny like sauce, sometimes it's more like soup, and sometimes it's curdled.

- This part was written yesterday evening, the next part comes from today -

I know I'm supposed to learn from another culture, be tolerant and all cordial about things, which I am, I am in no way demeaning the cuisine of my host country/state/whatever, I am only reporting what I thought of yesterday evening after having tasted the same mush for two days. Having been brought up in a different culture, being from another country, having savoured foods of different cultures and countries, it is an inevitability that I would compare my experiences here with things that I've been through/would go through, back home in Singapore.

In today's lecture, Dr. Shuchi Kothari, a filmmaker from NZ guest-lecturing us on the Indian diaspora and diasporic identities, spoke at length about how one should not need to apologise for one's honest expression of one's experience of another culture, because it is not necessary for one to be polite and take the cautious route of speaking fallacies for the sake of appeasing one's host country's sensitivities.

However, I should take all measures to clarify that this does not mean I advocate senseless commentary. By this I mean that even if one is sanctioned to express one's heartfelt thoughts on a matter; that one should conceive to do this at every turn.

I have said silly things that I regret on several occasions, but each time I do so it is with great embarrassment that I learn a lesson from that situation. I do not make the same mistake twice. Why I have validated myself so stringently thus far is because what I am saying is that on some days I really hate the food in the mess hall. But because I am in a different country, attempting to describe the food I have been served (and by extension this would be taken as a representation of this state's cuisine) as unpalatable (at certain times) to me would be seen as an affront of some sort to the citizens' pride. However, were I from this country itself, I would find no issue with declaring the homogeneity of the gravy/curry vegetables I am being served everyday.

Like me hating the food I was getting in the Police Academy. I can say that the food there sucks, but stating the same thing here would be slightly rude and altogether inappropriate. One could say that I am being hypocritical. One could believe that a metaphorical narrative underscores the main text of this post. One could find this a repugnant entry.

Chicken and chocolate makes me happy.