Chinese New Year
I flew back to Singapore from Canada to spend Chinese New Year with my family. I never cared for it as a kid growing up, but getting money was (and is!) always nice.
I’ve started to appreciate it a lot more now, as an adult that doesn’t really live in the mothercity anymore. I like how my Mum’s side of the family is rambunctious and loud and crude and fun, shouting over each other, gambling with mah-jong, stuffing our faces with Grandma’s food; and I like that my Dad’s side of the family is civilised, quiet, intellectual, conversations about travel and A.I. and family-making.
I like this contrast, it tickles me. I am 32 now, which is a little old to be receiving an angbao (a red packet that has money in it). You only get angbaos till you’re married – but I’m only 32, I ain’t no child bride!
Being in Singapore always feels weird. I have a love-hate relationship with the mothercity. But I’ve been catching up with lots of friends and it’s been fun. In the Nova Scotian countryside I am quite isolated, which is its own kind of (preferable) fun.
The government has given each citizen cost-of-living packages every year since Covid. This year we got like, $600. I got $160 worth of skincare at the grocery store. I’ve decided that this is the year I lock in my skincare routine. I’ve never had one before. I was backpacking on a budget. I would never have spent $50 on a Retinol serum. I was boating down the Amazon river. I was climbing a mountain. I was getting drunk on the valleys of Kyrgyzstan. I can’t wait to go back to Canada. I miss my boyfriend.