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The air is sticky. It seeps to every corner of the city. Dense and uncomfortable with no escape. Whether shaded by over looming skyscrapers or overlooking the sea at the tourist attraction of Sentosa Cove, the heat never gives up. When first landing to the city-state of Singapore, I fought for breath from its dense humidity and later, fought to understand its culture. Its well-connected transport and structured way of life unnerved me. It was like nothing I had been part of before. Yet, while I struggled to understand it, I sank into a lifestyle and eventually, a home away from home, never fully understanding it. Days started early there, hearing sounds of the metro churning in the background, children going to school, loudly explaining their next new idea or construction workers starting their day’s work. A city in flux. It is a fast-paced metropolis, always changing as new buildings popped up at every corner, reminiscent of the video game SimCity. Emerging from any train station reflected a well-manicured layout, often seen of green grass that covered the perimeter of the station. When walking away from it, the small patches of greenery followed me, whether with trimmed hedges or tall trees, many times leading me to a shopping mall. It was a very easy life, but lacking intrigue. My first day of work changed everything. By 12 o’clock every day, our office floor dissipated into silence as we headed for lunch, most of the time to a hawker centre. These are equivalent to outdoor food courts that sell a variety of Asian cuisine. An aerial view of a hawker centre will show dozens of stationary stalls, side by side, selling food or drinks. The centres are winding, turning a corner to see a new row of booths. Ordering food there took time as queues were often long and once obtaining your meal, finding a place to eat it was tedious. Tables were constantly occupied. Most days of the week, my colleagues and I visited the hawker centre 10-minutes’ away from our office. Not always visible, the hawker centre was upstairs from a market, only noticeable when exploring the marketplace. The hawker centre was not beautiful. The grease and dirt repulsed me at first sight. Piles of tables of multicoloured plates, grimy and stacked in large buckets on display. An unpleasant smell perforated the atmosphere. A tin roof protected the heat and rain against the centre, but the air seemed trapped. Yet, as I became accustomed to the scene, I observed the efficient management of the centre. Tables were cleaned in speed; most food was healthy, well-cooked and reasonably priced. The very first dish I ordered at the hawker centre was Char kuay teow. It was an undecorated plate consisting of fried white noodles, fish cakes, bean sprouts, prawns and clams, flavoured with black Soya sauce. With an untrained hand, I precariously held my chopsticks and picked up a piece, my face leaning forward to avoid an inevitable splash of the food. Slippery, I ate each part of the dish separately, then together and every bite surprised me. Its textures perfectly balanced the different elements and I ate to its entirety. That first day set in motion my seven years in Singapore. My journey took me to new locations, trying different flavours and ingredients. Dishes like Chilli Crab, Laksa, Satay, Nasi Lemak, Roti Prata and more, stimulated taste buds I did not know existed. Without realising it, food became the gateway to culture, language and people. It has been one year since I left Singapore, and while I miss its melange of food and culture, it has given me the tools for the next adventure.