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I was on board a taxicab en route home one weekend (when it was approaching midnight) … when the taxi driver started talking.

Like most Singaporeans around me, I’m not particularly fond of chatty taxi drivers. But I felt that I owed this guy one – he was supposed to be changing shifts at some other part of Singapore but still agreed to ferry me all the way to the East anyway. So I decided to listen.

As it turned out, this fellow had plenty of interesting things to say.

The topic was on … foreign talent.

Foreign talent was a huge issue during Singapore’s General Elections some months ago. For the benefit of my overseas readers, I shall provide a brief run-down. Basically, immigration in Singapore was on an uphill trend in recent years. So much that the local dwellers are beginning to feel the heat, mostly in the form of competition for education, housing and uh, space in general. Not to mention how migrant workers being with them a host of practices and behaviour that is considered the ‘norm’ in their home countries, but didn’t sit quite as well here.

This taxi driver had a particularly huge vendetta against the immigrants from Mainland China, yammering on about his personal experiences with such commuters in his cab.

“You know ah, I can be driving halfway and these China people will suddenly just wind down the window and spit outside! Very disgusting, you know!”

I could only nod politely. Didn’t quite agree with this one. Time and time again, I’ve personally witnessed other local taxi drivers doing the exact same thing. Much less so for the foreigners.

He also went on about their other bad habits such as speaking in full volume, their general aggressive nature and sense of hygiene – most of which I was only partially listening.

Well, I did share the same sentiments but didn’t want to add oil to the fire by contributing my own thoughts. It’ll only cement his general hatred for China immigrants and strengthen the stereotype, no? I have friends from Mainland China and they don’t quite fit into the stereotype of these folks being loud, aggressive and rowdy.

It was only when he began sharing a particularly bad experience from his travels in Guangzhou when I completely sat up and listened.

He was on board a taxicab heading back to his hotel in Guangzhou. For some reason, the taxicab alighted him at the back entrance of the hotel instead of the main, road-facing one. (The reason is not the point here, though.) He simply alighted and made his way in.

Now, to make his way back into the hotel, he had to cut through the kitchen of a pretty well-known restaurant in the hotel premises. According to him, this restaurant was rated four-stars, pretty popular for their dim sum, and was often bustling with enthusiastic customers.

So when he entered the restaurant’s kitchen, he was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him. Right at the back entrance of the kitchen was a large cage of stray cats. Seated next to the cage was a kitchen assistant skinning them cats one by one and basically slaughtering them for (what’s most likely to be) food.

Mister Taxi Driver began describing in great detail how shocked he was when he came across that sight, and his bewilderment at the sight of stray cats in the kitchen of a four-star restaurant.

He asked the kitchen assistant about it, only to be given the following answer.

“Well, don’t you know that people in China eat everything?!”

It basically scared him off all food in China from then on. Mister Taxi Driver began telling me about how he absolutely refused to step into China since that particular trip, and even shunning food in hawker centres and food courts in Singapore when he sees a migrant worker from China behind the counter.

I sat still in my seat, completely transfixed by his story.

Out of this world as it was, it was completely believable. China is no stranger to food scandals. (Remember the tainted milk, fake green peas, glow in the dark pork and the most recent exploding watermelon scandals?) Not to what my dad (who’s based in China) told me lately about the ongoing recycled cooking oil trade.

It’s little wonder why people are so distrustful of China (and its people) in general. Their (locally accepted but not well-accepted overseas) behaviour certainly doesn’t help.

The conversation with Mister Taxi Driver ended when I had to alight at my home. We bid each other a friendly farewell, and I wished him a pleasant and safe drive home (something which I generally don’t do). Then, we went our separate ways,

Me? Well, my personal perception of China’s mainlanders remain below average – considering my multiple bad experiences with these folks. (If I were to write about my experiences with them both overseas and in Singapore, it’d probably be as thick as an encyclopedia.)

However, I refuse to wipe them off entirely yet. I’ve met fellow students and friends from China who don’t fit into the general stereotype of China’s mainlanders, which leads me to believe that the crass behaviour seems to be limited to the middle-aged generation (while the Y-generation remains untainted). Not to mention how my Chinese counterparts at school and at work are extremely bright individuals, and are so easy to talk to and get along with.

What are your thoughts about China folk?

Remember the missing piece of white cloth I was griping about in my previous post?

Well, yes. That was more than two weeks ago. And as of three days before today, I was still a wreck, wondering where that dratted piece of cloth was because I really wanted to sew my pants. And this was after nearly two weeks of checking every single corner of my room. (Nope, still no white cloth.)

Two days, I came home from work … and found the white cloth sitting on my desk.

When I say sitting on my desk, I really mean sitting on my desk. In full view.

So, obviously someone has found it and placed it there. But who … ? And where … ? So, I decided to ask the family maid, since she usually cleans up some stuff in my room when I’m out.

Well, she said she found it behind the boxes stacked by my window. But as far as I know, the cloth had always been sitting on my desk .. until the day it went missing, that is.

“How did it get there?” I pressed. She became a little evasive, hem and hawing in her responses.

Both parents were standing nearby and watching this little exchange with barely concealed grins. By then, all three of us knew … the family maid must have accidentally misplaced the cloth, dropping it in a completely random spot while she went about doing her cleaning (and unfortunately, also yakking on the phone at the same time).

How did we know? Because the same thing happened with my dad’s car keys last week. The object will suddenly go mysteriously missing … and then end up in some random spot not touched by any one of us.

Now, the white cloth is placed neatly on the shelf next to my desk, in full view (and extremely accessible) to me when I want to use it.

Unfortunately, I no longer feel like sewing my pants now. :(

Sidenote: I also mentioned in the earlier post that I decluttered my desk before discovering the cloth was missing. Well, honestly – I can’t remember whether I saw the cloth there when I was clearing my desk either. So what’s worse than one absent-minded person? Two absent-minded people. :/