Field Report

The computer's back up to speed. Went out and about today to get all the broken tech stuff replaced. Dropped off the failed drive at the Central Post Office for it to be picked up by Hitachi, and then made my way down to the Acer Building. It occurs to me that there are certain undeniable advantages of living in a city-state, not the least of which is that you get all the benefits of a national provision of services on a local scale. So it is that if I were to service my laptop in the States, I would have to ship it halfway across the country, whereas at home, it's just a matter of hopping on the MRT.

Anyway, the Acer Service Centre was rather crowded when I got there, and I was a bit dismayed. But I have to say that their service was prompt and, more importantly, effective, and two scenes of King Lear later, I was walking out of the building with a new optical drive successfully installed, and with the prospect of once again enjoying this machine to the fullest.

*

And so it is, now, that I am on the SMU campus, writing in the field for the first time. It is a novelty to be accessing an online journal outdoors; previously, the best that I could have done was to rely on good old pencil and paper. There is a certain sense of empowerment that comes from being able to access all of one's information on the go. And I have to say that there is an element of a cheap thrill in this as well, for tapping away at a keyboard in the streets strikes me as such a characteristically undergraduate, or young, thing to do. After all, computing on the go comes across as a declaration of independence for the younger generation in everything from electronics ads to episodes of Globe Trekker.

The city around me sussurates soothingly. Where at home, tranquility and quietude are the norm, here, one is surrounded by hubbub and incessant murmurings. It has been raining for quite a few days now, and the growling of the traffic and the more melodious strains of tangential conversations that one hears but does not listen to merge with the splashing of the drizzle. That is not to say that concentrating is hard outdoors; rather, the soundtrack of the city is like a background score, enhancing the current action with the feeling of being right in the thick of it, rather than standing apart from it as an observer and scribe. Within the spontaneous and indifferent sounds of the city, then, I can draw out unique sensations and experiences. In this sense, then, the city is a symphony; the city speaks to me, even if it does not notice me.

And, incidentally, I also find that, even after so many years of walking these streets, and even after joining URA, this city can still surprise me. On Monday, my walk from Sim Lim Square to Bugis Junction took me past the Sculpture Square, a squat one-storey building (a rarity in the city confines!) with clean modern lines painted gaily and surrounded by various shapes in stone and steel. It was tucked next to NAFA, and while the larger and more imposing Academy had stood out before, I had never remarked upon its smaller and more interesting neighbour. And today, while travelling on a bus into the city from Jurong East, there was a point in the journey when I suddenly noticed that The Sail, the new and much-heralded premium condos next to One Raffles Quay, actually has two towers rather than one. When viewed from the Esplanade, which is how I usually view it, the other shorter tower is hidden behind its taller neighbour.

And so, I find that this city really is beginning to acquire the qualities of spontaneity, micro-level detail and street-level surprises that I have always thought of as being the defining characteristics of compelling places. It is magical, to suddenly experience a moment of feeling like you're in a new, strange and unexplored place, even while you are securely within the familiar bounds of a quotidian routine. The realisation, the feeling of dislocation, that thrilling disorientation, wells up within one and envelopes one's original assurance of familiarity, popping it like a bubble. And its fleeting nature only makes it more compelling in its wonder; the city offers such iridiscent moments of realisation to anyone who happens to be in the right place at the right time, and in that sense, the city is very generous to its inhabitants.

*

Yesterday, met up with KHwee and Joel for more planning for the Vietnam trip. Spent a few hours poring over backpacker sites and guidebooks. While I do think that it is only prudent to prepare oneself by doing the research, in order to know what to expect, and as a primer to point one in the right direction when one is on the ground, it does still strike me as odd that this research could be a communal activity. Previously, I had thought of it as a prerequisite action, just like applying for visas or renewing one's passport, and to do it together seemed as useful as renewing one's passport together. But I have to say that doing research together does open up a whole new can of worms. More eyes makes it easier to pick out interesting places and activities. And, crucially, this pre-trip research does go some way to reveal each of our individual tastes and expectations from the trip, and in this way helps to allay fears of a clash of interests on the ground itself.

I do think that it would have been easier to go by myself; one has more leeway to make plans, and one does not need to compromise one's plans in the interests of another's expectations. And indeed, travelling together is already a sort of compromise, even before the backpacks are dug out of the cupboard. It is a distraction from a complete commitment to exploration and discovery.

But now, it has also become clear that travel can, and maybe should, yield more than exploration and discovery. When one has travelmates, one's travel experience is as much revelatory as it is social and, as G pointed out, part and parcel of the experience is to place one's familiar relationships in a new context, and to discover new ways of talking to old friends. As such, then, it is true that I don't think the others are looking for the same things as I am on this trip; but then, in light of this realisation, it would be selfish and unfair of me to pursue the things I want out of this trip irregardless of what they want out of this trip. The need for compromise is clear; and the quality of these friendships is such that it should be easy to commit to these compromises, in the faith that the interaction of our interests, this give and take, will result in a combined experience that is more valuable and more enriching than anything we would be able to achieve ourselves. This is the faith, I think, that I should hold, going into the trip at dawn on Sunday.