Your Needs Are NOT a Pain in the Ass
“Are your needs a pain in the ass, Gab?” A good friend asked me via text message.
This question stopped me dead in my tracks. I could feel my fingers bypassing my brain wanting to type “well no, but, but, but…”
“Well, uh, no. No they’re not!” I replied back, with an increasing degree of conviction building inside of me.
Some context.
I arrive to the Capri Hotel in Singapore, fresh off the plane, shuttled to this hotel, the name of which had remained undisclosed to me and the other members of Singapore Airlines flight 37 from LAX to Singapore, until we pulled up in front. So this is home for the next two weeks.
Once it is finally my turn to check in, I deem myself perfectly capable of carrying my large suitcase, carryon size suitcase, extra large backpack, and normal size Patagonia backpack up to my room alone with no trolley, just as I had been doing for several weeks prior during my various touch downs across the US. No problem, I thought.
I reach the room, beyond eager to see what my living quarters will entail. I let myself in, leaving the two suitcases outside as I enter to survey the scene. Not bad, definitely could be worse. Two weeks? Big breath—here we go. I go back outside with my key in hand, mask on face, to retrieve the two other bags. Door closes, I maneuver the key towards the magnetic lock only to see flashing red lights. Try again. Nada. Again, nil. Back down to the front desk I go.
Naturally, she alerts me to the fact that this key is one time use. The key is set in this manner so guests cannot leave, or else. Yes, okay, got it. Heard the message loud and clear! No. More. Leaving,
Fast forward to Sunday evening. I had unpacked, read through all necessary paperwork, settled in. And then…a buzzing. I toyed with light switches, electronics, anything I could think of that would tame the beast that was this high-pitched, dog whistle-esque noise that was taking over room 511, whether I liked it or not.
High pitched, loud enough that it can’t be tuned out by the conscious mind nor by playing music from a phone or computer. Not ideal for a place that is supposed to be home for the next two weeks.
After the 17 hour flight, I find myself too tired to deal with it that evening. So to sleep I go, with the lofty hope that when I wake up in the morning, it will be miraculously gone, just like my jet lag. I am proud to say that one of the two of those things was, in fact, gone. I can confidently say that I wish I were not referring to my jet lag, but no. Jet lag was seemingly gone, buzzing was not.
And this isn’t just any buzzing. This is the kind of buzzing that looms in the background of insane asylums, to really ensure that the deal is sealed, that there’s no getting out. If you came in with your whits about you, at the end of whatever time you had there, the high-pitched screech of whatever this was would do you in.
I digress.
So I call to the front desk and ask if something can be done to alleviate this sound. Without hesitation, someone is sent up to see if it can be fixed. With no such luck, my room is switched.
While I wasn’t thrilled to repack everything I had just unpacked, anything was better than being crated up in this room with that noise. My journey continues on to room 404.
Upon entry, it felt like a downgrade. That’s where the mind likes to go right? To convince you that what you had before was better, simply to create a problem out of nothing. What was evident to me was that where there was a king size bed with king sized comforters, there were now two twin beds pushed together, Scandinavian style. I also saw a large desk that spanned the entirety of the front of the room, occupying space for what my educated mind had already deemed “the place for my yoga mat” as per my previous habituation. Not to mention, the whole bathroom felt closed off, with a giant shaded glass panel around the entirety of the sink, absolutely closing off the room. It felt so much smaller. Despair, frustration. How could I possibly have downgraded for this two week quarantine? Ouch.
But…no deafening squawk.
Not pleased, the texting began. To Molly, who I’m sorry to say, is my go-to when I want a quick response to something I am writing to bitch about. However, she is also the best because she rarely permits me to simply sit in my shit. She stays solution-oriented and socratic, helping to guide me towards a next step and a way out of my current state of displeasure.
“Why not call back and see if they have a room available like 511?”
And here we are, coming full circle.
For those that know me, you know that short stories really are not my forte. I love detail, I love the wit, I love the build up. So now that everyone has the context, shall we continue?
The excuses start spinning through my head.
I couldn’t possibly call and ask, I just called and bothered them.
They probably don’t have anything else available.
What if they think I’m annoying? (Who is they???)
Ugh but then they’ll have to send the security guard that just left to come back and guide me to another room—what is he going to think?
I typed in response to this very simple question: “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.”
To which Molly so eloquently replied, “Are your needs a pain in the ass?”
Damn. No. No they are not.
I am not bothering anyone for asking for something that I want and/or need.
I do not know if anything else is available until I ask, with which, literally zero harm is done.
It literally does not matter what anyone else thinks. I would like to be comfortable for this quarantine, and it is as simple as that.
So what if they have to send someone back to escort me. They’re probably just as bored as people are here on day 4 of their quarantine.
I am not a pain in the ass for asking for what I need.
How often do we do this to ourselves? We deny ourselves the possibility to achieve something, to learn something, to do something because we do not want to be bothersome to someone else? We do not want to disrupt what someone else is doing at the cost of our own evolution or progress? Why do we put the needs, or even worse, the perceived needs, of others ahead of our own?
This isn’t about being selfish, this is about having enough love for ourselves to speak up and ask for what we want and need. To speak up and ask for the things, the guidance, the support that could propel us to another dimension within and without.
We literally don’t know until we ask. And until we ask, it is easy to make up a literal shit storm of stories in our heads that would deter us from doing so. So why not avoid this whole calamity and just ask right away? Why wait?
If there is one thing I have learned this year, it has been the power of speaking up, the power of saying the things. Because ultimately, the things that we do not say and we do not express sit inside of us and do far more damage stewing within than they ever would if we would just trust and allow ourselves to say what we need to say.
So no, your needs are not a pain in the ass, just as mine are not, either.
My needs are important. If they are coming up, it is for a reason. I find myself getting into more trouble when I deny what I need without any attempt to actually listen to what they are trying to convey to me. What a disservice I am doing to myself.
So no, my needs are not a pain in the ass. While sometimes it may be uncomfortable to speak up for myself, that is the only way that I can get what I need, move towards the person that I want to be, and hopefully encourage others to do the same.
So yes, I called guest services right back. I didn’t give the stories playing in my head a second more to coax me out of action.
The hotel was very full, so no other rooms were available unfortunately.
Okay. Onwards and upwards, let’s do this. I’ll adapt, I am resilient. I have a roof over my head, time to create, time to be with myself, and that is truly all that I need right now.
I unpack, I settle in, I love the space I have, because it is the space I accepted.
As I accepted the space, I allowed my creativity to unfold. I didn’t care where I was, I was delighted to just be. I enjoyed the depth of the quiet.
I spend days two and most of three in this room, that at first glance was constricting and suppressive to me. Come to find out, a malfunction with the hot water arises in room 404, and I have no choice (and fortunately, it is far more evident to me this time around), to call and ask if something can be done. With no change possible without engineers coming in the room and troubleshooting, the concierge asks if I would mind a room change.
Sure, why not. One last bit of in person social interaction before I’m really shut away for the next ten days? Send it.
I repack the clothes and belongings that I had just unpacked again two days prior. The doorbell rings, signaling that a security guard has returned to escort me to my new room. I open the door and it is the same one from the other day.
“You again?!” He laughs.
“Me again”, I respond. We make jokes as we carry my stuff towards the elevator.
“Where to this time?” Down a floor, he tells me.
We reach my new room, for what we can presume will be for the duration of this fourteen day quarantine. He opens the door, permits my entry, and a paradoxical smile takes my lips by surprise.
I am back to the original style of room I was so afraid to ask for previously.
The irony.
I laugh a little. Thank my masked friend, and begin the unpacking process once again.
My apologies for the low quality imagine of the photo in the bottom right, but I am still awaiting meal selection C of Japanese curry vegetable bowl with udon noodle, tempura, assorted vegetables, carrot, and potato, that is in fact, spicy. I merely could not contain my excitement. Fingers crossed it comes soon.
typical quarantine breakfast
Meals here truly have not been bad. In fact, they’ve been quite good. I’ve enjoyed eating the steamed rice and steamed vegetables, with a side of a typically very good and fairly spicy sauce. Thank God for the spice–it’s like the knew I was coming. I have been pleasantly surprised by the food, however I’ve been a little thrown off by breakfast. I typically intermittent fast, so this truly has been no big deal.
A typical breakfast here is as follows:
Noodles are a guarantee. Steamed vegetables, inclusive but not limited to cauliflower, broccoli, cabbage, a slice or two of carrots (when they say carrot in the above recipe, they do in fact, literally just mean ONE), bok choy, and sprouts. On this day, I received a side of canned fruit as well. SPLURGE!
All in all, it is a very cool experience to receive this for breakfast, as there is such a massive contrast with the breakfasts served in almost all Western countries. I can jump on board.
Examples of lunch and dinner are pictured here.
Going. Going. Gone.
I must say that my favorite part of receiving these meals is how they are delivered. I am signaled between designated hours for each respective meal by a thrice ringing of the doorbell, at which point the prepackaged meal is left on a nightstand-like table right outside of the door. By the time I get out to retrieve the package, the deliverer is nearly half way down the hall way with their back to me. I yell a polite “Thank you!” to them regardless just to feel as though I am getting a semblance of social interaction on a tri-daily basis. Stay tuned for what I hope will be a video compilation of the backs of all of my new friends as they continue down the hall.
As you’ve seen, the menu and spread really are pretty good. However, I do have to admit that after about 3 days of eating the same steamed rice and vegetables (no matter how good the sauce is), I was ready for something fresh off the streets with a touch more of the history and culture of the very cusiniers laced in with every bite.
Upon arrival to Hotel Quarantine I am given a packet full of information. The do’s, the don’ts, the definitely do nots. Amongst these papers, it is written that at any point I am free to order delivery and have it dropped off at the hotel, and my meal will then be brought up by one of my friends whose backs I had seen many a time.
See, this is a slippery slope as I know (and knew), that once I had food delivered once, the seal had been broken and there was no going back. Shout out to FoodPanda and Deliveroo for making it just oh so easy to have access to literally any and every food item on the island of Singapore. Big love to you.
So today, in the wee hours of day five, in the afternoon, I caved. As the hunger was already present, I began to scroll fervently through the options, the countless options, of Asian cuisine of any and all sorts that could be delivered to my very room. Everything from Ramen, to Japanese Hakata Style Gyoza, to Funan, to Crab Meat with Fish Maw in Thick Soup, to Fried Kway Teow. I felt in over my head given the degree of hunger that was creeping upon me. Hence, my need to reach out to my NYC gal Emily AKA @Foodloversdiary for guidance on future meals.
I just couldn’t do another lunch consisting only of steamed rice and vegetables, regardless of how dank the sauce may be. Not today.
So I managed to find Indline Northern Indian Restaurant and felt that this would be an honorable and worthy choice. Naturally instead of just getting one meal, I get two, because, you know, save some for later. Obviously.
Chicken Tikka Masala and Dal Makhani Khaas. Can’t go wrong.
While I have done several noteworthy things since my arrival here, this choice was near the top. Delivery was quicker than expected, the smells permeated both the plastic containers and the bag in which they came. I took them out of the bag, and while I wanted to capture the savory moment in which I was indulging, I took one sole photo for the purposes of this short tale.
I think it’s satiating, as far as photos go.
I will admit, not my best work, but there’s always next time.
A dramatic twist: in my haste to order I forgot to add rice. Being the resourceful gal that I am, I borrowed the rice from the lunch that my pal delivered to me via the hotel catering and put that yummy stuff right underneath the rich, creamy, perfectly spiced goodness that is (well, was) the chicken tikka masala and the dal.
No regrets. None.
A well-deserved break from the usual.
But on a serious note, the catering company that is serving here at the hotel during this quarantine is doing a phenomenal job. I truly am blown away by the degree of service and attentiveness I have been experiencing since my arrival. It is only facilitating an increase of excitement for what life in Singapore will be like once I am free to roam the streets, and the Hawker Centres for the cuisine of my dreams.
So for now, I sign off. Thank you for participating in my culinary experience here at Hotel Quarantine. Stay tuned for perhaps slightly more exciting adventures as I am guided through the epic noodle scene and so much more with the help of Foodloversdiary.
Bon Appetit.
