On February 13th, I flipped the over to the forum page of the Straits Times and was greeted by:

EX-CITIZEN’S REGRET

Missing Singapore

The article made me shudder. Could I end up like this woman, who returns to Singapore 30 years after surrendering citizenship, only to be full of criticism about the country she left Singapore for in the first place? Words like “nostalgia”, “loneliness” and “colossal mistake” jump at me from the page.

The prospect of prancing off to New York in the near future looks pretty good to me. And it is certain that there will be even more prancing, more timezones, more visa-induced-anger, more accent-confusion, more more more in the great beyond. This article stares at me and ask the question I fear to ask myself:

[singlish] “Eh later you regret then how?” [/singlish]

Then, I slapped me to my senses, “Fuck la cheebye anyhow emo”.

The article laments (albeit indirectly) the unreliable public transport, dirty city streets and even work culture of the “foreign land”. Indeed, I won’t even have to name the country because 99 flights out of 100 will land you in a place less clean, less organized, less efficient, less blinged up with shiny infrastructure than Singapore anyway.

99 flights out of 100 will land you in a place less clean, less organized, less efficient, less blinged up with infrastructure than Singapore anyway.

It takes a certain degree of determination to see the only the particular shade of green that is missing from beneath the feet. Sure, learning to appreciate what one has is frequently a process that extends well beyond the fact of having. But leaving, then getting melodramatic over something you forgot to love in the first place, is a different thing.

I’m sure the lady who wrote the article did not mean to take jabs at her current host country deliberately. She did, in the end, declare her “allegiance and loyalty” to her new home. But why then, is she so clearly unhappy?

Let me make my point before the lao sai really pours: There is nothing more pitiful than having the privilege to expand one’s horizons, only to lament it’s burden.

If you wish, change is always knowledge gained. Just as certain as new experiences brings new knowledge, new knowledge in turn, brings new burdens, new fears, new joy and new responsibility. The key decision isn’t about making the right plans, it is about choosing how to be in the present. Make the right choice, and never have to “regret” in grave, bold Garamond.

And perhaps I am harsh. I do, after all, come from a background of (im)migration, plus, I have never really had issues leaving a place behind despite being deeply in love with it. I do get sentimental about friends, family and the quirks of different places, but I never regret.

It’s not unusual to consider migration as an opportunity to achieve something, but perhaps because Migration is a huge kind of change, people often mistake it as a solution to all life’s problems. I’ve seen my parents relocate to different places, and I’ve seen them through disappointment, disconnection and loneliness, but I have also witnessed their ability to find affection for every place they have lived in*. They do, of course, love Singapore, where they chose to bring me up, but they don’t love Hong Kong any less, and never do they complain about being short-changed by whichever Island they’re on at the moment. In fact, back when my mother had the energy to, she flew between the islands every fortnight.

Really, it’s not the place, it’s the perspective.

*With the near exception of New York, where my dorky father spent half the 80′s wishing he had witty comebacks to racist jerks, and where my maternal uncle lost his life to work stress. But hey, my Dad just retired, and guess where he’s planning to start his American road trip?