From Backpacking Southeast Asia to Living There

(the Singapore skyline seen from Marina Barrage)

I started my summer's backpacking trip this past June (2015) exactly the same way I did last year: with a backpack bigger than my torso strapped to my back, my number one by my side, minimal expectations for what this trip would be, and full intentions of returning to the Spanish capital I had quickly come to consider my home, Madrid. The only thing that was forecasted to be different about returning to Spain at the end of the summer was that, this time, my best friend was not. After living in Madrid for two years, Avery had decided that after one last big trip she would return to The States and start trying to do that whole career thing.

In typical countdown fashion, we made sure that in the weeks/months leading up to our departure for summer we fit in all the best Madrid activities a minimum of five times. Whether it was "botellón"ing in Malasaña streets and plazas, park debauchery in Retiro or Debód, zooming around the city on the ridiculously fast electric bikes, or the most obvious of Spanish activities: drinking wine and eating something already carb-y on top of bread, it was sure to be a solid memory to add to the list.

Come June, we moved out of our beautiful Spanish home of two years and masked our pain with a summer adventure.

For as much as I liked to remind Ave at the time of all the places she wasn't going to be seeing again, part of me suspected I might not be seeing Madrid as soon as I had anticipated either.

Fast forward to Vietnam, mid-July, and my friend who had just gotten a new job in, and moved to, Singapore messages me to say that her company was hiring. Did I want her to submit my cv with a recommendation? Why not. A few days later, I was contacted by their head of recruitment and set up a Skype interview (which took place on a hostel balcony). Next thing I knew, I had accepted a job offer and booked flights from Thailand to Singapore. Why go back to Madrid when I was already 7,000 miles in the right direction?

Singapore warranted more research than Madrid had. Once I had decided it was much more live-able than the other Southeast Asian countries that I had already been traveling in, it was a go. Once the opportunity was open to experience another completely new culture, there was really no way I could have resisted. I was ready to kiss the Madrileño winters goodbye, which by a Florida girl's standards, were way too cold. Growing up in Florida also provided me with the very appreciated but very naive assumption that the result of where water meets land is usually a beach. I have come to find that although Singapore is an island, there are NO beaches. There is 1 beach. It's man-made. It overlooks the shipyard, where hundreds of cargo ships wait in line, in the ocean to bring their goods to port. But, this is besides the point. This beach situation was a huge oversight in my research.

One thing that did not slip by unnoticed,  however, was the all-caps bold red letters on the arrival immigration card that read: "WARNING: DEATH FOR DRUG TRAFFICKERS UNDER SINGAPORE LAW".

Singapore is one of the cleanest, safest cities in the world. It boasts very low crime rates and when it comes to drug trafficking, you'll be hung.

I stepped foot in the least "Asian" city I had seen all summer, wearing a crop top and leggings, to be greeted by the woman who had hired me at the airport.

My belongings consisted of a backpack full of dirty backpacker's clothes (read: very baggy and obnoxiously patterned pants and shirts) and whatever bracelets, teas, parachute pants, and post cards I had collected along the way to send as gifts home. Despite my surely summery disheveled appearance, I still bothered to tuck my septum piercing up into my nose in an attempt to seem more professional. (...? Good try good try).

follow what I get up to daily on instagram!