The language of friendship, at the worldwide cafe
The boys next door are leaving. I heard mumblings a few weeks back, and now it’s confirmed. Such is life in transient Singapore, where the expats come and go so fast the locals tend to see us as a steady, faceless blur.
P saw these boys in full focus. They’re the friends he’s played with, chatted across the front balcony to, or pined after during mismatches of schedule for nearly a quarter of his young life. I wondered what, and when, to tell him.
***
In Japan, it was term time, and P was lonely for children his own age. It matters more now, this peer interaction. On the subway he learned to spot a typical Japanese school uniform from carriages away, and would hone in, single-mindedly; silent commuters looking startled, then indulgent, as he launched conversations with young audiences who rarely understood English.
When his words fell flat, he performed a trick taught him by generous Aunties and Uncles across Asia: he’d raid our supplies for a tightly-wrapped piece of blossom-flavoured candy or a few silver, dried anchovies with peanuts, and present his gift with a smile. An age-old message – the offering of food.
One girl spoke English. An elderly gentleman sat behind them, eyes crinkled into a smile above his paper mask as P made small talk with her between stations. They exchanged their ages, and played a guessing game for ours. The girl, looking anxious, pegged me at thirty, and we all giggled into our beards when P revealed my age as twenty-one.
Soon, though, she reached her station. “You made a nice friend there,” said Nanny.
“I don’t think I’ll see her again,” said P.
***
I decided I should mention our neighbour’s relocation. It was bound to crop up – best forewarn. My chance came as we worked on P’s new recipe: Just-Blueberry-Nut-Cornflake-Right-Crunch – an amalgamation of no less than three different types of breakfast cereal, now stirred into one, mind-boggling super-cereal for our morning consumption.
At first he was quiet. Then: “I’m going to tape their door shut,” he decided.
“I don’t think that’s a practical suggestion.”
“Well, I’ll sneak in and change their alarm clocks and they’ll miss the plane.”
***
We carried on a few more stations after the Japanese school-girl left us, til we had to change lines. Soon we reached Oji, bought some food at a cafe and took it into the park. A group of girls were playing on the rocks by the waterwheel, and P followed and copied them until, by magic, he was part of the game – and for a while, that was that, despite the lack of common tongue.
Then P decided to share out the cake we’d bought, so I gave him spoons and paper napkins to help everyone join in. The girls rummaged through their backpacks and found some sweets to give in return, and all of a sudden it was a party, loud and boisterous, with everyone crowding in to get their share of the goodies.
When the park closed, we parted ways in a shower of thankyous, their Grandmother bowing so low I was afraid she’d do her knees in, my mother wondering nervously who was supposed to stop first.
Then we skipped back to the subway for our last night in Tokyo. Twenty-four hours later, we were gone.
***
“I’m going to go down into the car park and tell their taxi driver to leave without them,” P said.
He was running low on ideas, so I gave him the only one I had: “You can make sure you spend as much time playing with them as possible between now and June. Make the most of the time you’ve got left together.”
For my wisdom, I got a scowl: it was not the solution he’d wanted to hear. But the next day, he asked them over, and made them hot chocolate. And the day after that, he shared his bread at the park.
This post appeared first at Journeys of the Fabulist, and was inspired by Sue Slaght, who invited me to blather at will.
We just found out today that my son’s friend’s family is leaving this summer, after less than a year in Singapore. This is a beautiful post that made me cry, something I wanted to do in the car this morning when I found out, but couldn’t.
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It’s was such a sad thing for him that they left, and then when he forgot earlier this week and started calling out for them on the way past their house… I have to say he’s taken it quite well really, but it just took all the wind out of his sails when he realised all over again.
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Oh no…
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Best of luck with your friend leaving. Fact of life for expats in Singapore. Have you told your son yet?
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Thank you Bronwyn. I told him yesterday after we’d spent a lovely day with the other family. Luckily they’re coming back to Singapore for a few days after their summer holiday, so we’ll get to see them one more time for proper farewells. My son is like me when it comes to bad news. We’re cool when it comes, and once we’ve properly swallowed it, it stays with us for a long time. But yeah, that’s something we’ll have to get used to. Luckily there’s an upside to all of this: meeting a whole bunch of new people!
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Very true! I think the hard one for us was when a friend left to visit family back home for a few weeks but while they were away a number of things happened (deaths, work stuff, etc) and long story short they never came back. P kept hanging on for ages and couldn’t quite grasp that they’d gone for good.
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So great to finally be online long enough to tell you how moved I was by this beautifully written post. Bless that boy of yours xxx
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Thankyou. Yes, bless him. It’s all a learning experience.
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Poor P :(. We are going to leave Singapore too, not sure when though, might be as early as August this year, or next year, and Carla is already worried about leaving our apartment, her school, her friends:( Btw, can I get some sandwett and warta, please?;)
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Ah, poor Carla. You can both have some sandwett and warta if it’ll help. I always debate whether to say anything sooner or later, but I’d hate for P to hear the news from elsewhere and realise I’d been with-holding it. At least I was able to pass on an approximate date from them.
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Well…that’s a beautifully written post…and though it may be hard on P at present, I guess he is learning one of life’s important lessons…that people will keep coming into our lives and then moving on…for varying periods of time. Sooner or later, one has to learn to deal with it. I am talking from experience. Do I sound too morbid?? 🙂
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Not too morbid. It’s true that in the end we all come and go – just some faster than others. It’s one of the toughest things about life.
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I think Phil’s willingness to take the first step to make new friends in new situations (and languages) will stand him in good stead.
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Yes, he’s definitely got that going for him. We just came back from our weekend in KL – he was seeking out kids everywhere. Made a lot of new friends, even if they weren’t people he was going to see again.
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This made me ponder how my own children would have reacted. My son would have taken it all in stride. He always did. But my daughter is much more rooted. She’s lived in the same house her whole life and has had the same group of friends for most of it. Only two friends have ever moved away and she was devastated. I’m not sure she could get used to a transient life, but son chose one for himself by joining the military.
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Yes, choosing the military life often means choosing this sort of transience. Sounds like your son would have taken it ok.
It’s funny how different people take to different things. We all feel sad when we say goodbye to friends, but for some the thought of moving onward to new people (places/projects/etc) makes it worthwhile. For others, staying put is a better choice. When you get different types of people under the one roof, that’s when things get more complicated.
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Oh, I have had to go through this so many times with Z, and it breaks my heart every time. I think you handled it swimmingly. Well done!
It is a hard part of being an expat/traveler at any age, the learning to say “see you later” (I refuse to say good-bye, it is just too difficult). I hope P gets tons of time with his friends and they make many memories to hold onto. 🙂
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Yes, it’s definitely the downside. They’ve had a few chances to play since I told him – that’s nice at least.
Good luck with Z. At least at P’s age he knows what’s bothering him – a couple of years ago he just used to act up and we’d be tearing our hair out. I’m not sure about Z – maybe she’s a paragon of self-awareness compared to him! How does she take it so far? Better than you?
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So far she takes it pretty well actually. I just don’t think she knows anything else. She is much better at it than me. We shall see as she gets older and is more aware that she might not see them again, how that will go.
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Yeah, with P I was never sure if it was a particular friend or just the change (in everything). But now he’s getting that bit more independent, by which I guess I mean less dependent on us but more dependent on his own friends, if that makes sense 🙂 .
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I’m bracing myself for the big, big talk with my daughter this month. The we are moving to a new country talk. If she tapes any doors shut, I’ll know why… (Glad to hear I’m not the only mother whose children insist on mixed up “super cereal.”)
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Not sure what’s so super about it myself, but at least it doesn’t require much supervision or cleaning compared to other experiments in the kitchen.
Ah, yes, you’ll be going through the talk – as soon as you know what’s happening, no doubt. I don’t envy you. (You could always hide the tape before you give her the heads’ up for practicality’s sake…?)
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Such an endearing story and well told. I admit I had a little tear in my eye. It brought back memories.
I had a best friend from day 1 at primary school. For 6 years we were practically inseparable and I still remember the day she told me the family were moving. Every day until ‘the big move’ we would cry. We must have driven the teachers crazy.
Had another friend once who lived the military life. She said they were moved on every two years. Once neighbours heard they were army, people usually ignored them because they knew they wouldn’t stay.
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I can sort of understand not wanting to bother getting to know someone who won’t be sticking around – though less so these days, with social media keeping people connected – but it’s still a sad state of affairs.
Not sure if you’re trying to say your crying drove the teachers crazy or if that’s a non-sequitur, but I suspect it could have been the latter?
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Awww, sweet P! The one thing I do like about kids is that they often are better (than adults) at stopping focusing on language barriers and instead concentrate on the things they have in common. They can figure it out.
But you also raised the one thing we’ve been thinking about: the older the kids get, the more important their friends are. How often can/ could we relocate, so that it is still fair to everybody (especially if there is no other need for it than parents wish to try new stuff)? If P misses friends already on a trip, then a year here and there (which could be quite interesting for us adults) could be quite tough on our kids! But kids are also resilient, and they can learn new skills… What are your thoughts on this one?
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I defer to A’s experience on this one, as his family moved a number of times (around Australia) when he was a child. It was ok until the teen years. That’s when he and his sister really dug their heels in. What have you guys been thinking?
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But how does he feel about childhood friends then? Does he have any, and does it matter? And yes, I can relate to the teen years – we moved a few times too when I was a kid but changing schools at 14-15 in the middle of the year was the worst, even though I had a couple of good friends in the new school already.
We’ve been thinking loads, and most likely always will be 🙂 No moves in the near future though.
But e.g. your origins are pretty tempting, (if I’d ever do a phd then Brissy would have a good source for me), Dubai has been in the minds as well as a few European countries. Obviously NZ would be great too, but the region that would be most interesting for us doesn’t have jobs for my husband
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He doesn’t tend to have friends from prior to high school, but then neither do I, and we didn’t really move at all (we moved house, but not far, and not schools). I guess I know people from then but more in passing.
We have the that-place-would-be-great-but-only-one-of-us-could-work problem, too! It does narrow down the choices, doesn’t it?
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I loved this post. Friendship is so had in the expat lifestyle, Max has left many a friend and now he gets left and I’m not sure which is worse? I just love the ‘party’ in the park with the girls…a wonderful memory for you all, thanks for sharing
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Yeah, both are hard. I guess when you’re the one leaving you lose all friends at once, so that sounds harder – but then you are going somewhere excitingly new to distract you, so not sure.
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I know of some expats in Penang who don’t bother making friends with newly arrived people anymore. The think there’s no point to it. I’ve come to think that people come into our lives for a season, not forever. I’ve had enough friends who I’m super close to for a while, and then distance separates us both physically and metaphorically. At least I consider myself as having friends all over the world. P seems sweet. I vote for taping the door shut.
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But what if they run out of food? 🙂
Yes, I think you have to accept that people come and go. It’s true of life anyway – even if you’re all staying relatively still.
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Oh Bronwyn my hearts strings are pulling and and I do believe I have a wee throat lump. P sounds like such a sensitive, caring and I will say creative boy. As far as blathering…good heavens girl it is a delight to chat with you every time. Your kind link to my blog is certainly not necessary but appreciated. I’m all ears any time. Hugs to you.
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He definitely has qualities worth nurturing (I won’t say they shine through every moment of every day, she says, listening to his sister shrieking in the background because of something he’s done to her) and it does break my heart a little at times like these.
I’ve been linking to everyone who made a request in the comments of the itinerary I posted, so no need to feel too special 🙂 . No, but really, it’s always good to chat with you, and to find someone so indulgent of blather. I appreciate your comments.
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Haha okay I will deflate my ego filled head. 🙂
P sounds a great deal like my son J who is about to turn 30. such a sensitive soul who also gave his sister many shrieking episodes. His best effect was to hang her barbies out the second story window by a string. That really got the neighbors wondering if a murder was in progress.
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P was reading that over my shoulder and I had to turn the screen away lest he got new ideas.
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I do believe J could write a book on ‘Ways to Make Your Little Sister Screech.” Of course should anyone ever try to harm her or even tease her he was her greatest defender. Truly a puzzle of life.
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Yes, P gets quite protective as well. Like they think they have sole terrorising rights.
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That must be it exactly. I will say now as adults they are lovely friends and laugh themselves senseless reminiscing about those days.
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Oh good – I should have that comment framed as an easy reminder.
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P sounds like a sweet kid and he must bring much happiness to those around him, including complete strangers 🙂 It must be tough to always have to make new friends and bid farewell to dear pals. Brussels also has a huge transient expatriate population, especially with the bureaucrats moving in and out (though I don’t know of any myself). From examples in my office, one reason to make expatriates stay is if they fall in love with a Belgian – the Belgians have a reputation of preferring to stay in their country!
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He has his moments. Both types of moments 🙂 .
Sounds like we need to choose our location carefully during his teen years, though – just in case! (After his teen years I presume he’ll choose for himself. Belgium would be alright – they have very good coffee and a eurostar.)
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Good coffee in Belgium? I must not have any (or just a few) while here. Brussels is convenient for getting around northern Europe, especially if you enjoy train travel – Thalys, Eurostar, ICE, etc.
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Maybe I had low standards back then. Could be – we were living in London and they all thought Starbucks was the best! Or maybe it’s just personal taste.
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Coincidentally, someone I met over the weekend commented that you can readily get decent coffee in Brussels. AB agreed when we compared the quality of coffee in neighbourhood cafes Paris versus that in Brussels. So I guess you must be right! (I don’t drink much coffee) 🙂
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Well I’m glad to hear it’s not just me – I’ve got to bask in the agreement of others now and again 🙂 .
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Nice writing! I feel so sorry for P though, it must be really hard seeing friends leave at that age. Though I like his inventiveness. Taping the door up is the best solution if you ask me…
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He was quite serious about that, too. I suppose it’s good he’s trying to problem-solve instead of just throwing tantrums…
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It`s always the same for these kids. When he`s a teenager,he`ll know people all over the world, they`ll stay in touch with FB, Instagram and all the replacements by then, and he`ll usually run into someone he knows at every airport. The upside of transient relationships….
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It’s good to hear that from someone who knows. The world is definitely a smaller place now with modern communication technology. Hard to imagine what life must have been like for people who immigrated back in the day.
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P is so friendly 🙂 So cute! I loved the japanese friendly picnic in the park 🙂 Kids can sometimes interact with each other so easily. We could learn from them. I am sorry the neighbours are moving 😦
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Yes, it’s a bit sad for us. On the other hand, it does sound like a good move for them.
We probably could learn something from the way kids openly interact with each other, for sure!
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Well written 🙂
I just loved the sentence “Such is life in transient Singapore, where the expats come and go so fast the locals tend to see us as a steady, faceless blur.” Being there and lived in Singapore for some time I know that in person 🙂
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Thanks. I was once told outright by a PR that they didn’t take any real notice of anyone who’s lived here for less than three years. He wasn’t trying to be unkind – it was just kind of exhausting to invest in people until they’d shown they were likely to be around for a while.
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What a lovely story. I like the way the sharing of food breaks down the barriers 🙂
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Do you know, I think even just the offering can do it, even if the receiver doesn’t accept.
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