At first, I was just slightly offended by all the Christmas trees in Singapore. I had departed from Rome Christmas night and, after twelve hours in the air, arrived in Singapore the next day. East Asia ought to have meant Buddhism and Fu lions, I thought, wats and acupuncture. Instead, here I was on the tip of the Malay Peninsula, the evening air sticky as spilt eggnog, and in front of me row upon row of perfectly conical plastic evergreens decked in golden stars and silver bulbs ringed the bay like a glitzy tree farm.
My first thought: cultural imperialism! Europe and Christianity imposing on yet another ancient and noble culture.
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