By Feng Zengkun

AS AN overseas student in New York, my life in the city is temporary.

Everything that is brought from Singapore has to be taken back eventually, or given up in New York.

With that in mind, I was very strict about what went into my suitcase during my first two years.

When I was packing to go to the United States, functionality took precedence; sentimentality a back-seat.

Given a choice between a rice cooker and a teddy bear, the rice cooker won every time.

I also made do with less, avoiding unnecessary buys.

When I was tempted to buy keepsakes and mementos, a voice in my head kept repeating 'luggage space, luggage space', which also served as the litmus test for any souvenir - did it justify its dimensions and weight?

But this efficiency made me feel like a stranger transiting in a strange land.

At the end of a long day, when I returned to my dormitory, it felt like a hotel room - it felt temporary, as did I.

Temporary, not just as an American, but also as a Singaporean. Without an American's history or a Singaporean's belongings, I was finally neither one nor the other.

I concluded: Things are important.

Not just any thing, but things with history.

Without physical roots to remind us of who we are, it becomes easy to drift, to become lost in a sort of limbo.

I think this is why Singaporeans stick together when abroad: In the absence of hawker centres and mamak shops, even a verbal 'lah' can bring indescribable comfort.

So at the end of my second year, when I was planning to get my own apartment, I made some changes to my packing routine in Singapore.

I did not choose the teddy bear over the rice cooker, but I did take up my mother's offer of her favourite wok.

My mistake was thinking that efficiency and history are mutually exclusive.

I overlooked the third option: that, with a little mending and reinforcing, what is historical can compete with the futuristic.

My apartment in New York is now full of these third options: a pot that may look anachronistic but which produces better, more familiar food than its peers.

With them, my apartment may not look like the latest hot spot, but it is my Singapore town in New York - a place I am happy to call my house and home.

The writer, 25, is studying creative writing at New York University. He is a Singapore Press Holdings' overseas scholarship holder.

This article was first published in The Straits Times on Aug 25, 2008.