Sumalee. Javier Salazar Calle

do you propose then?”

      “David, a six months project has emerged in Singapore, which can possibly extend to two years, for which you are a perfect fit due to your knowledge and language. I know it is a bit hasty, but I need you to tell me sometime today or tomorrow because it is urgent to start moving the paperwork.” I raised my eyebrows excited. “I'll send you all the project information and the conditions. Call me if you have any questions. What do you think?”

      “I don't know what to tell you Valentine. You cough me a bit off guard ...”

      “I know, I know. Think about it and tell me tomorrow. Were you not sick of doing testing? Here's your chance. And if you do it well it will help you with a potential promotion this year. I’ll send you the email, you think about it and let me know tomorrow. Hey! If I didn’t think that you were perfect for it, I would have not told you.”

      “Alright, alright. I’ll let you know tomorrow. In any case, thanks for thinking of me.”

      After hanging up I remained thinking. When I got to my desk, I already had the email from Valentine. It was clear that he was in a hurry. I opened it and read all the information. Interesting project, a country with incredible references, good pay including housing and, above all, getting out of here for some time away from the memory of my ex and the damn tests. It was clear. Within five minutes of receiving the call I knew what my decision was. Still, I decided to wait until the next day to give my brain the opportunity to think about it, although, when I took a decision, and I used to do it quickly, I rarely changed my mind. When I got home, the only thing I did was to check my passport’s expiry date.

      What I would really miss would be all the sports I was doing: running, basketball, soccer, paddle tennis, climbing ... I was passionate about everything that required effort or risk, especially if it was outdoors. On the other hand, in Singapore I could do water sports which in Madrid I could only do in the summer, such as diving, sailing or riding jet skis. Living on an island gave me the opportunity of doing it all the time. I got back to work. Result correct, result incorrect, incidence.

      Next day, at noon, I called Valentin and told him my decision. I will go to Singapore. He sent me all the trip details and started moving all documentation. Personalized Employment Pass, EntrePass, Work Permit... There were lots of options and types of visas. In the end, it turned out that what I needed was a Work Permit. For this type of pass it was the company who had to request it on behalf of the candidate, but I had to translate my academic qualifications (although later in Singapore I had to get the original certified by an official translator there and wait until they were approved by the Ministry of Labour), fill out forms for the health insurance, passport photocopies, the work report from my company ... The fact that it wasn’t a new job but a transfer with the company and that the company took care of almost all the procedures made the process much simpler.

      A couple of weeks later I was at the airport in Barajas catching a flight with Qatar Airways to Singapore. The rest of the team was already there for a couple of weeks preparing to launch the project and reading documents. The company was paying for a three-bedroom apartment shared with two co-workers, so I didn’t have to worry about finding a place to live and I had the opportunity to meet people from day one.

      I bought a travel book about the country and read it during the flight. I did not lack time, sixteen hours with a stopover in Qatar. Lots of patience required.

      The book began with the typical presentation of the history of the place. Apparently, Singapore was a city-state that passed from hand to hand and where now lived a jumble of races with unique languages. In fact, there were four official languages: English, Malay, Tamil, and Mandarin Chinese. Two more than I though.

      What mattered to me was that it was the fourth largest financial centre in the world (after New York, London, and Tokyo) and the fifth most important commercial port given its strategic location. On paper, almost a paradise on earth and an unparalleled career opportunity. To be proved once there. At least, it looked promising. The book was full of all kinds of information that I enjoyed. I loved numbers and trivia about anything. I immersed myself in reading trying to absorb as a good tourist, all relevant information.

      Finally, they announced that we were arriving in Singapore. An airport built on the sea. I was glued to the window to see it well. Below me I could see the whole agglomeration of the city, but I was pleasantly surprised by the number of trees. I hated the places where the only visible colour was that of cement. The airport was in a corner of the island and just below it a large naval port was visible. The sea around it was studded with boats of all sizes, but especially those giant ones that carry containers. I've never seen so many together and so organized, forming long parallel lines of ships. The city was full of skyscrapers and tall buildings. The edges of the island had long beaches with dense vegetation. Then I saw an area with houses, a suburban development which ran to the side of a wide river with many bridges.

      The plane was flying very low over a grassy well-maintained area and I could see appear the track just below the left wing, where I was. I suddenly felt the blow of the landing gear touching the ground and the plane began to slow down. At the end, a few hundred meters away, was written with shrubs the airport name: Changi.

      The plane exited the runway and headed for the terminal. From my side I could not see it, but I could see it through the windows on the other side. The stewardess announced over the loudspeakers, among other things, that the temperature was twenty degrees. Being in an equatorial zone, temperatures tended to be around that figure with high humidity and short but intense rain.

      Before long we were allowed to get up and grab our luggage. I walked around the airport with one suitcase and a backpack on my shoulder. There were strange things compared to what I was used to see, areas with free internet and even laptops for those who did not have one. There was also a relaxation area with chairs, like those by the pool, facing the planes and where people were listening to music, sleeping, or reading.

      I kept going in search of the train platform. The screens announced arrivals and departures from all over the world. Finally, I arrived. I took a streetcar named Skytrain that took you to Terminal 2, where you could get a taxi. When the train stopped at the platform it caught my attention the fact that it didn’t have a driver. Soon it left me in Terminal 2. In the middle there was a tropical garden with a small pond and beautiful flowers. Free massage chairs, hanging crystal tears rising and falling, orange fish ponds, places to receive Asian massages... They even advertised a pool in Terminal 1 from which, according to the photos, you could see the runway! Incredible. In the bathrooms there were touch pads where you could click on a smiley to rate the cleanliness of the bathroom. Of course, it was spotless. After all it was considered one of the best airports in the world. The first impression of a new person in the city was its airport and here they nailed it.

      I finally got out and took a taxi. I showed him a paper with the address of my new home, and he headed there. I arrived on a Saturday and the company informed me that the house mates were expecting me at home to help me settle a bit and tell me everything I needed to know to adapt as fast as possible. There was no way to mistaken the place because it was called The Spanish Village... Pueblo español in the language of Cervantes. Curious place to put a group of Spanish. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or it was on purpose, but the name was perfect to make you feel like home. I looked it up on the internet and it was in the neighbourhood of Tanglin, but that, for now, it meant nothing to me.

      My journey in Singapore was starting.

Singapore 2

      In less than half an hour, the taxi stopped in front of the entrance of a building complex and the driver told me that this was the address on the paper. I looked and saw at the right of the entrance Spanish Village 56-88 Farrer Road and the same thing in what I assumed were Chinese characters. After exchanging a few words with the guard at the gate, he entered the complex and stopped. I paid with Singapore dollars I had brought from Spain and I watched him drive away.

      I looked again at the paper where I had the address. I was in the right place. I started walking with all my luggage looking for the door. The complex was made up of a group of beige buildings with red tiled terraces. They