Recently, I had morning "Kopi" (Malay for the local version of coffee) with an expat architect "friend of a friend" from Portland. We met at Nanyang Old Coffee (http://nanyangoldcoffee.com/) in Chinatown near my new office. I was a little late, so I walked briskly from the Chinatown MRT Station in Singapore's early morning sun, warmth, and humidity. Sure enough, my new friend had already arrived, and was just sitting down outside at one of the many cafe tables. Not a big coffee drinker myself, but thinking of the saying "when in Rome...", I decided to socially join in a cup of the local brew.
Nanyang Old Coffee is a wonderful part of the Chinatown neighborhood, and I highly recommend it. But, unlike most outdoor eating establishments I have been to in Singapore, our table lacked the usual comprehensive array of ceiling and wall fans that help keep the stifling tropical heat from being, well, quite so stifling.
Most folks likely know that Starbucks began in the cool, Pacific Northwest - a place that seems ideal for enjoying the hot, roasted beverage. Its popularity there, perhaps, growing from coffee's delivery of a one-two punch of "warming energy" (if you subscribe to Chinese medicine) and eye-opening caffeine to counteract the often overcast, and somewhat gloomy, grey clouds.
Only the second American I have met in my two months here in Singapore, I was excited to talk about anything and everything with a fellow architecture/planning professional hailing from Portlandia (http://www.ifc.com/shows/portlandia). The conversation was engaging; the "kopi" hot, sweet, and condensed-milk creamy; the seat was hard, wooden, and located where no air was moving.
During our chat, I noticed a few beads of sweat forming on my face, but thought little of them. It wasn't until I rose to shake hands and wish a fond farewell, that I noticed my shirt. Wanting to make a good impression, I had chosen to wear my dark purple, Calvin Klein, trim-fit, cotton button-down. Preferring not to wear industrial-strength aluminum-laced antiperspirant, my armpits unfortunately had kicked into high gear and it looked as if I had taken two full glasses of water and poured one on each side of the shirt, forming perfect, wet, upside down parabolas. What to do, except smile and act natural (thank you Toastmasters training)!
No chance of drying off anytime soon, I schlepped myself the additional block to my office and, quick as I could, pulled on the merino wool sweater I keep at my desk (thank goodness). If you have ever lived, worked, or visited places like Florida or Singapore, you know the opposite challenge of tropical cities is the "meat-locker effect" of aggressively adjusted air conditioning systems. It was a damp and uncomfortable morning at work. Much like line-dried laundry (which is the norm here), the thick part of my outfit (where the shirt tucks in at the belt line) was still a bit damp come lunchtime.
Moral of the story? When visiting Singapore from the Pacific Northwest, either continue to enjoy your addictive hot brew inside a simulated cold place, or opt for "Kopi Peng" ("Peng" in Hokkien Dialect means "Ice" - http://nanyangoldcoffee.com/how-to-order-a-cup-of-singapore-coffee.html) as you sit outside and enjoy people watching on the busy sidewalks of the Little Red Dot.
Nanyang Old Coffee is a wonderful part of the Chinatown neighborhood, and I highly recommend it. But, unlike most outdoor eating establishments I have been to in Singapore, our table lacked the usual comprehensive array of ceiling and wall fans that help keep the stifling tropical heat from being, well, quite so stifling.
Most folks likely know that Starbucks began in the cool, Pacific Northwest - a place that seems ideal for enjoying the hot, roasted beverage. Its popularity there, perhaps, growing from coffee's delivery of a one-two punch of "warming energy" (if you subscribe to Chinese medicine) and eye-opening caffeine to counteract the often overcast, and somewhat gloomy, grey clouds.
Only the second American I have met in my two months here in Singapore, I was excited to talk about anything and everything with a fellow architecture/planning professional hailing from Portlandia (http://www.ifc.com/shows/portlandia). The conversation was engaging; the "kopi" hot, sweet, and condensed-milk creamy; the seat was hard, wooden, and located where no air was moving.
During our chat, I noticed a few beads of sweat forming on my face, but thought little of them. It wasn't until I rose to shake hands and wish a fond farewell, that I noticed my shirt. Wanting to make a good impression, I had chosen to wear my dark purple, Calvin Klein, trim-fit, cotton button-down. Preferring not to wear industrial-strength aluminum-laced antiperspirant, my armpits unfortunately had kicked into high gear and it looked as if I had taken two full glasses of water and poured one on each side of the shirt, forming perfect, wet, upside down parabolas. What to do, except smile and act natural (thank you Toastmasters training)!
No chance of drying off anytime soon, I schlepped myself the additional block to my office and, quick as I could, pulled on the merino wool sweater I keep at my desk (thank goodness). If you have ever lived, worked, or visited places like Florida or Singapore, you know the opposite challenge of tropical cities is the "meat-locker effect" of aggressively adjusted air conditioning systems. It was a damp and uncomfortable morning at work. Much like line-dried laundry (which is the norm here), the thick part of my outfit (where the shirt tucks in at the belt line) was still a bit damp come lunchtime.
Moral of the story? When visiting Singapore from the Pacific Northwest, either continue to enjoy your addictive hot brew inside a simulated cold place, or opt for "Kopi Peng" ("Peng" in Hokkien Dialect means "Ice" - http://nanyangoldcoffee.com/how-to-order-a-cup-of-singapore-coffee.html) as you sit outside and enjoy people watching on the busy sidewalks of the Little Red Dot.