Singaporeans abroad frequently proclaim, with equal endearment and exasperation, that we can spot our fellow countrymen by hearing them before we see them. Personally, depending on what I overhear, I’ve found the Singlish accent can either ease the homesickness or make me extra sick of home.
But a work trip to Mongolia’s countryside in late August showed me another surefire method to identify a Singaporean in the literal wild: They flock to the sole Wi-Fi zone with their phone in the air, waving like a person drowning.
To be specific, I was one of the sad souls searching for Wi-Fi at the Mongol Nomadic Camp after travelling roughly 55km from Mongolia’s capital Ulaanbaatar, during which my online access gradually faded into oblivion.
A colleague and I were in the country for a preview of Mongolia’s first theatre production to go global, The Mongol Khan, before it comes to Singapore later this month. We’d caught the show the night before, and I hoped experiencing nomadic life firsthand, albeit in a popular tourist camp, would enhance our appreciation for the rich Mongol culture on proud display in the play.
Alas, I am but a Singaporean millennial. It didn’t seem to matter that I would be staying at the camp – which had little to no cellular reception, never mind data connection – for just one night before returning to a five-star hotel accommodation in the city. Nor that I was surrounded by the majestic landscape of the landlocked East Asian country I’d long desired to witness in person.
