Cold Air and an Education

Last week was one of those weeks where it seemed like everything in the house broke at the same time. So, within 2 days we had visits from the "aircon" company repairman and Koh Hock Soon, our favorite handyman.

We don't have central A/C in our condo. Instead we have individual wall units in each room to keep our home reasonably cool and these units require regular service visits to keep them operating correctly. I also have to share that these units are inferior to our system at home and if you think they might be cheaper, think again. Our lowest electric bill so far was S$700 ($500 US) and I only run one unit during the day. Anyway, it is standard that you sign a service contract with a company to maintain the units and about every 2-3 months, I get the phone call that it's time to clean our aircon units. The problem is that one of the units always seems to go on the fritz about a week before our regular appointment, so someone gets to sleep in a hot room for a night before the repairman can squeeze us into the schedule. Emily was the unlucky girl this past week. So we were happy to see the service technician appear Thursday afternoon.

While cleaning each unit in the house, the aircon man was full of worldly knowledge for us. He spotted the small wood box I bought in Chinatown and asked if I knew what kind of box it was. I told him I believed it was an opium box (I just liked the box's shape!) and he went on and on about how it was a pillow box and that traditionally the person would sleep with that box under the head. He took a bit of a lecturing tone with me and told me how important it is to know what I'm buying in Chinatown. For example, different kinds of lions symbolize different things so don't just purchase any lion to place outside a home. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had no desire to place any kind of lion on my doorstep because he was clearly enjoying teaching me about Chinese artifacts.

After sharing this valuable information with me, he went back to cleaning the units. When he was done with the job, he returned to the living room and appeared shocked when he saw Emily coloring. He pointed out that she was not holding her marker correctly and even went over to her and demonstrated how she should be coloring. I didn't have quite as much patience with this lesson and simply stated, "She's TWO years old." Thankfully he didn't persist in teaching my toddler proper handwriting techniques. Although, after he left, I considered that he might be a good person to consult if I ever wander into an antique shop in Chinatown again.

I later researched his pillow box claims and discovered that we were both correct. I own an opium pillow box. The box's rectangular shape is the perfect size for storing an opium pipe (or, in my case, a collection of US coins that I probably cleaned out of my wallet around the time I bought the box). The sloped lid allowed its owner to sleep with his head on top of the box, preventing anyone from stealing the opium while he slept. Sounds practical enough.

I learned a little something extra during the service call and I can appreciate someone wanting to share knowledge about their culture. I'm just thankful I didn't buy any lions in Chinatown because I probably would have chosen the wrong ones.