Two days ago, I went in search of apples.
The choice of apples left was appalling.
And then, overhearing some conversations, it struck me. The hungry ghost festival (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_Fest
This is what it means to be Singaporean--it means that I accept and understand that for a while my apples will be uglier when I shop later at night. It means that the non-believers/non-practitioners and non-Chinese tolerate the piles of ashes and food items left along the road. And the more polluted air of course.
Also, seen today: bubble tea (with pearls and the thick straw) left for worship along with the more traditional 发糕!
Happily at Home,