The High Cost of Living

Spent the weekend in London with a bunch of friends and one friend's mum who made a lovely English lunch. Being around Singaporeans outside of Singapore, and around Asians in England has made me think a little bit about what it truly means to be diaspora, a state I'm rather used to but not used to.

It's become a sorta truth with me, a painful reality that needs acceptance. That, although ridiculous, I simply cannot find health and happiness within the spaces of Singapore. It's not something that is my choice, and although many friends of mine may be incredulous at this statement, if given a possible choice, and honestly, space to breathe in Singapore, I would seriously think very very hard about living in Singapore for the rest of my life and may even find myself very happy.

But there is a high cost of living associated with being in Singapore. I call this air tax.

My biggest gripe about where I am now is the high cost of income tax of close to 40% compared to Singapore which features something closer to 15%. (I'm not even going to go into the sinking feeling that I'm supposed to be in the highest tax bracket in the UK, and nothing even close to mid-range high level in Singapore...)

Things are expensive here. Ask any Londoner who would agree with me. Food is costly, housing isn't cheap, sure cars don't come accompanied with COE, but still, on the whole, you can get a decent meal in Singapore for a third of the prices here.

But every day as I walk or cycle to work and take a deep breath, the cold air sharply reminds me of why I have chosen to, despite sometimes less green grass, set forth new roots here.

Because with on average an asthma attack every 2 weeks in Singapore, I find it nearly impossible to breathe. There are several factors: the level of humidity being over 85% on average, the oscillation between the 18 degree air conditioning and 36 degrees of air outside, the rather high levels of pollutants and dust in the air from traffic, industrial activity, crowd, the seasonal hazes as Indonesia prepares to grow the crops of the year, burning offerings from the annual Hungry Ghost's Festival, the general level of joss in the air.

I'm more sensitive than most people I guess, and that translates itself into every day sinusitis, a regular daily dose of antihistamines that don't work, asthma attacks and shortness of breath in the span of ten minutes. It's really not the heat that makes it impossible to take my dog out for a run during the day.

Funny thing is, I didn't realise all of this until I looked back 3 days after landing in London and realised that the stocks of pocket tissues I had loaded up on expecting to be sniffling, were not depleting.

I'm apparently paying the price for the high cost of being alive. I had full medical coverage with the company back in Singapore that while being paid for, does not cure my symptoms. It's now replaced by an insurance policy that I do not use because I no longer fall sick.

From a Singaporean point of view, wah, really boh hwa (no money's worth). But I'm paying for air and space to breathe.

Sometimes when I think about how hard it is to live here on my own, and how much I miss the comforts and conveniences of Singapore, it's shocking and humbling at the same time to think of the simple things, and of the alternatives.

Fresh air is free... yeah, right.