One with Singapore

One night that so vividly remains in my memory when I think of moving to New York City 4 years ago was my first night there. I had "set up" the room I was subletting as good as I possibly could, having only shown up there with 3 suitcases, one of which had a blow up mattress. I had unpacked my clothes into little piles along the wall, inflated the mattress and made it up, and pulled out my laptop. The ceiling in that apartment was huge because there was a loft and it just made the nearly empty room seem even more cold and lonely. I sat down on the air mattress and looked around thinking, "What have I done?" I just felt like I didn't belong in that city, in that apartment, in that world of New York City.

When I took the subway, I would always manage to get lost or board the train going in the opposite direction. I felt like I was constantly looking for a friendly face to ask which way was what! One day when I was looking for an audition, it had started to pour down rain and my umbrella had flipped inside out and got so mangled I just pitched it in the garbage. New York City garbage cans were often full of umbrella carcasses on particularly rainy and windy days. I had been walking around the same 3 blocks, but it seemed like whenever I reached the street corner, I realized I should have gone the other way so I'd turn around and reach the next corner and still somehow be wrong again. It seemed impossible and I literally stood on the street corner, in the pouring rain, not even caring anymore, just wanting to go home and about to cry. Someone felt sorry for me and said, "Where are you headed?" Then they pointed me in the right direction. (And who says New Yorkers are cold?) I remember thinking I had never felt so alone, while constantly surrounded by people.

Eventually, I learned the subway route. By the time I left I could tell you the order of pretty much every stop on all the trains in Manhattan. I'd hop in a cab and tell the driver which roads to take to get to my destination the fastest. I felt confident walking down the street and didn't have to stand on the corner and stare at the signs when I came out of the subway so that I could get my bearings. It wasn't until about 3 months into living there that I felt like I belonged there, though. I was on the subway platform, listening to my ipod, on my way to work when a young woman came up to me, looking worried, and asked if this was the train she took to get to Union Square. In the few months prior, if someone asked me how to get somewhere (which they rarely did, because I looked lost and vacant most of the time) I would say, "I'm sorry, I'm new here. I'm having trouble figuring it out myself." But the flip had switched. I knew where I was. I said, "No, you have to go to the other platform. Just take the stairs up here, and make a right." As she walked away, I felt this new ownership of New York. I became a "city girl." I loved it.

Moving to Los Angeles had a different feel because you are always in your car. I had a navigation system so I became much too reliant on that. I definitely believe that I didn't know LA as well as I should have by the time I came to Singapore because I was always staring at that stupid Garmin instead of looking out the window and figuring it out. But, it saved me a lot of hours of getting lost and missed auditions, I'm sure. I never quite felt "at home" in LA though. I think California is beautiful and I love the weather, but I don't know if it's really fitting to my personality.

The past couple of days I have been gloomy. It's partly the weather, and partly that I haven't really started rehearsals yet. Everyone else is well into their rehearsals so I feel left out. I had my first fitting today and as I was transferring trains a frazzled looking Australian mother with her small daughter stopped me. "Excuse me, miss," she said, "I'm looking for the train to Clarke Quay. Can you help me?" Instinctively I wanted to say, "Uh, no, sorry. Just moved here 3 weeks ago." But I realized I knew the answer! "Yes, just take that escalator down to the purple line. You'll want to get on the train heading to Harbour Front. It's just one stop." The mother breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you!"

I walked off and couldn't help but smile. I don't think she realized that she helped me a lot more then I helped her. I know I have a long way to go before I feel like I completely belong in Singapore, but in that moment I felt like I took a big step in the right direction.

Erin Go Braugh

I haven't blogged in a few days because I've felt pressure to write something about Singapore. As I haven't been in rehearsal or working, I've lacked inspiration to write. That's the story of my life: when I'm super busy, I always manage to find time to do what I love, but when I'm bored and have all the time in the world, I tend to do nothing. It's a nice little system I have going.

I just read my friend Joan's blog, which I do on a nearly daily basis because she is great at keeping up with her blog and her stories are always heart-warming and lovely. She just posted a blog about her name and it inspired me to write because that is certainly a subject I relate to.

I have really always hated my name. Mostly because I feel like I'm a very feminine "girly" girl and my name is very plain and sort of asexual. Whenever I say my name, whether at a doctors office, the DMV, a class, you name it, I get the response, "Is that with an "A" or and "E?"" And instead of smacking the person asking that question on the head, I just say, "With an "e," as in E-R-I-N." And in my head I continue, "The only way a WOMAN would spell it." Which, I know, nowadays there are thirty different ways to spell the name, but really, no offense, its original form and meaning is to be spelled ERIN, not Eryn, Erinn, Aryn, or whatever other combination I've seen through the years.

Erin is the romantic, poetic name for Ireland. It can be used as a male name, (in fact, I went to school with a male Erin, but that was really the only guy I have ever met,) but because of it's meaning it is really meant to be a female name. And "Aaron" is a male name and I have NEVER met a girl who spells it that way, yet I'm always asked if that is the spelling of my name. So even though it has a beautiful meaning, for me, that gets lost in the day to day hacking of it.

My mother was going to name me Megan, but she said when I was handed to her as a beautiful pink cherubic baby with blazing red hair, she thought "Erin" was the only fitting name for me. As my mother smiled retelling the story of my birth, all I wanted was for her to go back and name me Megan. My confusion with my name only grew larger when as a child my mother said she had to run "errands." Erins? huh? It took me many years to realize that wasn't about me.

I always wanted a cute girly name like Sally, Katie, or Brandy. Anything with a "y" or "ie" would have sufficed. When I was around ten I loved the Archie comics and named pretty much every Barbie doll or stuffed animal I had "Veronica" because I loved that name. No one would confuse Veronica for a boys name. And you just imagine Veronica to be in high heels, have beautiful long hair and wear red lipstick.

As I got into high school, and actually acquired friends of the male persuasian, they would all call me "Muroski." Although, no one ever pronounced my last name correctly so it was usually more like, "Mur-ow-ski," but I preferred it all the same. It wasn't very feminine but it was sassy, and that was definitely more "me." It caught on, and in college, pretty much everyone called me Muroski. All of a sudden, even though "Erin" couldn't be shortened or made into anything that felt like it belonged to me, I felt like at least part of my name defined me!

And then along came Julia Roberts in her award winning performance in Erin Brockovich and I was quickly back to despising my name. Because now, instead of having the powerful, spunky "Muroski" moneker, I had everyone going, "Hey, it's Erin Brokovich." And if I introduced myself for the first time, I ALWAYS, I mean EVERY TIME, elicited the response, "Oh, like Erin Brokovich?" Yeah. Just like Erin Brokovich.

Now the Erin Brokovich ship has pretty much sailed. I still get it from time to time, but certainly not like the 3 years at the end of my college days, thank goodness. And although I don't know if I've completely embraced "Erin," I know I love being called "Muroski." So much so, that I have to admit, I don't think I will ever change my last name. When I think of who I am and my name being my identity, I don't think I could be "Erin Who-si-whatsit," or any other last name. As my good friend Beau said to me one day when I was with him in NYC and I was feeling really sad and confused, "You're ERIN MUROSKI. You know that, right?" And, I thought, "Yeah . . . YEAH, I AM Erin Muroski! I can do anything! I rock!"

In the spirit of embracing your name no matter what, though, I have to say that I love that the only person who ever calls me "Erin Marie" is my father. I think if anyone else even tried to call me that, I'd have to correct them and let them know that is reserved for my Dad only. And although you wouldn't think my name could be shortened, my mom is the only person who calls me "Err" (pronounced like the first syllabel in "error.") So I guess there is comfort in "Erin" after all these years. I'd still prefer it if you'd call me Muroski, though.

Breaking Wind

Since we arrived in Singapore, my tummy has been going crazy. I've sure it's a fun combination of jet lag, stress, culture shock and the fact that my tummy is always my Achilles heel. Nonetheless, I am in Asia and I wanted to try some alternatives to going back on any prescriptions.

A couple of my friends out here tried a Chinese Medicine doctor so I thought "why not?" His office is in Chinatown and it's right by our hotel. It was a tiny little store in the sort of 'mall' of Chinatown Pointe. I just sat next to the doctors desk and told him what I had been feeling in my stomach. Then he took my pulse for quite a few minutes, one arm at a time. During this, he only broke the silence once to say, "You are under a lot of stress," to which I replied, "YES."

After that he told me I have what the Chinese call "wind" in my stomach. I need to get the wind out. Also my kidneys are very tired. All that from taking my pulse. It was really interesting.

We went to the front desk and I was given tablets and a bottle of black liquid that I was to take 3 times a day. The medicine is hideous. Completely disgusting and I hate taking it with a passion. I call it "my yuckies." But I gotta say that in the four doses I've taken since last night, I feel better. My stomach has calmed down a lot. I ate more today then I've been able to eat the whole trip. Plus I just feel more energize in general. Plus, it was only $22! That sure beats the heck out of any medical bill I've gotten in the last year . . . or EVER.

Next fun thing to try: Acupuncture.

Top 5

Heading into my fifth day here in Singapore I figured I'd let you in on the top five culture shock surprises I've experienced in this short and very jet lagged time I have been here.

5. I don't think the people of Singapore eat breakfast or know what it is. Being a HUGE breakfast enthusiast, this has been troubling. Del and I spent close to an hour walking around the shopping areas by the hotel in the 95% humidity trying to find some semblance of breakfast food with no luck. We ended up getting a box of granola bars at a drug store. Each day I think we will find somewhere for breakfast and we never do. Our hotel offers an "American Breakfast" which is a buffet for S$19.00 that includes Lo Mein noodles, seasoned potato wedges, salad, baked beans, and your choice of organge or apple juice. Yes, obviously they have a complete handle on what an American breakfast is.

4. The subway system here ROCKS. It is so unbelieveably clean, you could literally eat off of the floor. And I lived in New York, so trust me when I say I'd be completely mortified for the people of Singapore to see THAT kind of subway. The platforms are enclosed so you don't feel like some pyscho is gonna push you into the tracks. There is not a bum or random "artist" begging for money to be found. It's very easy to find the train and direction you are looking for and the escalators are lightning speed fast. It's very cool.

3. The prices of alcohol would make your jaw drop. Thank goodness we got a bottle of Belvedere and a bottle of Jim Beam at duty free! It's the only thing we'll be drinking for a year. A bottle of Jack Daniels here? Sure! That'll be $108. Absolut? Why not! That'll be $135. Yikes! And when you go out it's no better. Try $50 for a bucket of 5 beers. And that was a "special." Looks like I'll be having a very sober year.

2. Restaraunt service is bizarre. A server won't come up to you until you go and get one and then they are less then enthused. Then they bring each drink and entree randomly at different times. Plus, the other day, we were brought our check and asked to pay before we had received our food. Also, the gratuity is always included but it's usually like 7% so the waiters and waitresses won't come back with your change unless you track them down, hoping you'll forget or just get annoyed and leave.

1. The term, "No butts, no cuts, no coconuts," has definitely not been spread around the schoolyard here. I wondered on the first day why there are signs everywhere that say "Please wait in Que." I was thinking that was obvious when you are purchasing groceries, or waiting for your subway pass. I quickly learned waiting in line is not a concept that's widely respected in Singapore. It's normal to have someone completely walk in front of you while you are waiting patiently in a line and get service before you. They aren't being rude, it's just their culture. It's actually fascinating and surprises me everytime I see it.

I'm so sleepy so I will leave you with that for now :)

All Shook Up

I'm glad to say that the rest of the trip after Taiwan was much better (sorry, I wrote 'Thailand' in my last entry, but meant 'Taiwan.' I blame it on lack of sleep and SCoA.)

The flight to Singapore was nice and smooth and I popped a sleeping pill and slept the whole way. Del and I got our first passport stamps ever at Immigration and we were greeted by Gregg, Jason (both our managers) Chelsey, Seth, Bryce and an HR rep named Theresa. It was so nice to see everyone! We got to the Hotel Re! and I was delighted! It is a really cool Art Deco style boutique hotel. When we got to our room Del and I cracked up because it is lime green and white with two huge glass panels with the imprint of Elvis on it right above the bed. Awesome.

We went to the hotel cafe bar on the patio and had drinks with a bunch of other performers before hitting the hay. Now we are off to Sentosa to lay on the beach with a big group of performers. I'll keep you posted!

Oh Screaming Child of Asia

Del and I are in the Taipei airport in Thailand, exhausted, clinging to the only outlet we've been able to find. The past 18 hours have not been pleasant, NAY, they have been quite horrendous.

Everyone I know who has already gone to Singapore for Universal has posted things like, "Wow! That wasn't that bad! The flight was great!" I was setting myself up for that kind of experience, but that, unfortunately, seems like a myth.

Our flight from Orlando to Los Angeles wasn't that bad except that it took an extremely long time for Delta to decide whether our IPA work passes were "legitimate" or not. But when we arrived in LAX, things turned for the worst. We had to recheck-in and go through security again and the lines and crowds were incredible. Then, as we are waiting at the gate, I came face to face with the Satan-child that would soon have me thinking disgraceful things I never thought I could wish on a child. Literally the entire 2 hours of that layover were spent staring in disbelief at how a 2 year old could have that kind of energy at 1 am (4 am our time because we had gotten back on an east coast schedule.) Every person at the gate shared the look of fear that spoke, "I hope this child is not sitting by me."

Once we finally boarded, late of course, Del and I neared our row and I saw it. My greatest fear: Screaming Child of Asia. At first it was even really hard to hate him as much as I did because he honestly was really adorable at first glance. But my wish to fall into the seat on the plane and drift off to sleep was plucked from me immediately. Now, he didn't scream because he was upset, no, he just screamed, nonstop for hours, sometimes with a smile on his face. I brought earplugs: they did nothing, not when we were in such close proximity. In addition to sitting right near SCoA, the seats were smaller and closer together then a domestic flight. Del literally didn't fit. He had to put his legs out into the aisle and he looked miserable. I got maybe 3 hours sleep total between waking up to SCoA and the insane turbulence that lasted 6 hours. Oh yes, you read that correctly, 6 hours. And one hour of the turbulence was so bad that even Del looked at me like, "Oh shit." I was too busy hyperventilating with tears streaming down my face to respond.

We got to the airport in Taipei and when we found our way to the skytrain to take us to the terminal where our next flight would be, who was waiting for us but SCoA, now with no pants rolling around on the ground of the airport. Now I've been up for 24 hours, in airports and I can't help but imagine taking his lips to my sewing machine and running them through. I seriously have been imaging harming this child. What I should have been imaging was harming his parents, who literally ignored him through all of this. They let him scream, and lay on the airport floor, facedown, and didn't bat an eyelash. I know I'm a germaphobe but when you see other people with surgical masks on because they are fearing H1N1 it's hard to imagine why these two people decided to breed.

Okay, that's my rant :) Just wanted to keep this blog accurate and up to date now that we are on our journey! haha! And I promise I won't harm any children . . . but I can't help thinking about it.

Silly Ang Moh

Hello gang! I'm sorry I've been M.I.A. for the past couple of weeks! It has been wonderful being home and spending time with family and friends, but it also made me kind of lose focus on any kind of "routine," as far as writing goes.

Today is the big day. Del and I will start our journey to the other side of the world! We leave Orlando at 7p, fly to Los Angeles (ironically enough.) Then we have our 15 hour flight to Taipei, Thailand. While in Taipei we have a 10 hour lay over, which I only just realized in the past few hours. I'm hoping it's a fun airport! Then we have one more 5 hour flight to Singapore. So, we arrive in Singapore at 8:45PM their time, 8:45AM eastern time and 5:45AM pacific time on Friday. I can't wait!

I got my Tylenol PM and all sorts of distractions to take with me. I'm hoping I'll be able to sleep a lot on the long flight so it goes by quickly. We also have our little Singapore travel books to read.

So far my favorite book is our "Top 10 Singapore book." It tells you the top ten restaurants, places to shop, liveliest bars, etc. It also has beautiful pictures (which seem to be lacking from a lot of other travel books.) The day I got the book I happened to flip to the page that has the "Top 10 words in 'Singlish'-The Local Patois." How fun! Yes, the 'Spores' as they call themselves speak english but they have their own local slang. I figured I'd have a headstart if I knew how to speak the lingo.

Most of the words were really interesting and made sense as far as what you think would be popular slang. They have the most popular exclamation of surprise, the word for God, the word for "idiot," etc. But my favorite is number 3 on the list: Ang moh. The book defines it as, "Ang Moh, meaning 'red hair' is the local slang for a Caucasian with that hair color. It is not usually derogatory."

Not Usually? Oh, well that's a relief. Clearly I'll be fitting right in then, huh?