nova Scotia

SINGAPORE – In July 2017, Singaporean Pamela Ho and her Canadian husband Patrick Wallace checked into Trout Point Lodge in Nova Scotia, Canada, for a one-night getaway.

The luxury log cabin retreat sits on about 50.5ha of land – roughly the size of 71 football pitches – and lies deep within the Tobeatic Wilderness Area, the largest protected natural space in Nova Scotia. It can host up to 26 guests.

Getting there is part of the experience. The lodge, opened in 2000, is a four-hour drive from Nova Scotia’s Halifax Stanfield International Airport. 

Upon arrival, guests are rewarded with fresh air and vistas of forests thick with coniferous red spruce, hemlock and balsam fir trees. Just a short walk from the resort, the blue waters of the Tusket and Napier rivers ripple and foam.

The Tobeatic Wilderness Area spans over 120,000ha of land and is the largest protected area in the Canadian Maritimes, in south-western Nova Scotia. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

The couple first visited Trout Point Lodge at the recommendation of their friends, who lauded the place for its connection to the great outdoors and its power to transport guests to another world. 

“It’s in the geographical centre of south-west Nova Scotia, so in about 60 or 70km in every direction, there’s nothing but unspoilt wilderness. And in the middle of it all is this lodge that’s kind of like an oasis in the desert,” says Mr Wallace, 53.

The couple – who have been married for 20 years and do not have children – moved to Canada in 2012, following a work posting for Mr Wallace. Previously, they lived in Singapore and met while working at the same semiconductor company in 1999.

Ms Ho took a career break for a year, and in 2013, started a consultancy working with clients in the artificial intelligence and travel software space.

While they knew from online listings that the lodge was for sale, they initially had no intention of purchasing the property, which they understood would amount to a multi-million-dollar project. But an opportunity to speak with its owners during their stay made them reconsider.

“The previous owners were reaching the age of wanting to take a step back, and running a lodge is not a hands-off affair,” says Ms Ho, 50. “We felt the place had very good bones and that we could bring something new to the table.”

Ms Pamela Ho and Mr Patrick Wallace stayed at Trout Point Lodge in 2017 and had the opportunity to speak with its owners, who were looking to sell the property. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

What followed were months of discussions with friends, family and industry professionals, weighing the pros and cons.

Mr Wallace says: “At some point, we had asked every question that we could think of, consulted some people who we thought were much smarter than us, and said, ‘Please tell us that we’re crazy.’ But nobody did.”

By January 2018, they were the new owners of Trout Point Lodge.

Keeping the soul, elevating the stay 

Mr Wallace says one of the main draws of the lodge is its architectural character – a subtle nod to its wild surroundings. 

Trout Point Lodge can accommodate up to 26 guests. Fireplace Junior Suites (pictured) come with a wood-burning fireplace and French doors that lead to an outdoor riverside porch. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

Its Main Lodge – a building crafted from chiselled granite, sandstone and colossal Eastern spruce logs stacked horizontally to form walls – rises three storeys along the riverbank and houses nine guest suites, dining rooms and recreational facilities like a mezzanine library.

Meanwhile, its other building, Beaver Hall, comes with four pet-friendly suites nestled by a bend in the Tusket river and boasts a 9m-high ceiling and a towering stone fireplace in its lobby.

While the buildings retained a rustic charm, the couple saw the need for key structural upgrades – and fresh additions to enhance the experiences offered. They declined to reveal how much they paid for the property.

In their first few months as owners, they worked on minor decorative changes as they wanted to get a good grasp of the operations before committing to major renovations. They officially opened for their first season in May 2018.

Subsequently, they introduced fibre optic cables for better internet connectivity, and improved plumbing, roofing and other electrical wiring around the property. They also expanded outdoor amenities, adding a barrel sauna, a floating dock and equipment for canoeing, stand-up paddling and kayaking.

Among the lodge’s outdoor amenities is a wood-fired hot tub, which faces the river and surrounding greenery. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

Running a lodge is a departure from Mr Wallace’s career, as he had been working in the semiconductor industry for around 20 years. But Ms Ho has a wealth of hospitality expertise.

In Singapore, she served as Hilton Hotels and Resorts’ Asia-Pacific director of third-party online distribution from 2010 to 2012, following eight years at the now-defunct online travel agent Zuji, where she had roles in areas like business analytics and project management.

“I’ve almost always been in the travel and hospitality space,” says Ms Ho, who now runs the property full time with her husband. “It gave me some confidence that I should be able to market Trout Point Lodge well.”

From mid-May to mid-November, when the lodge is open to guests, they live on-site to manage day-to-day operations alongside a team of 25 staff. The rest of the year is dedicated to overseeing upgrades, visiting family abroad and scouting fresh business opportunities. 

Nightly stays at the lodge cost from C$688 (S$639) for an entry-level junior suite of around 500 sq ft with a king- or queen-sized bed or two double beds, an en-suite bathroom and breakfast.

Package stays are also available and come with activities like a picnic lunch or wine appreciation class and both breakfast and dinner. One-night packages for solo travellers start at C$858, while a package for two starts at C$1,033.

Home, hidden in the details

Ms Ho has various items from Singapore around the lodge, including former prime minister Lee Kuan Yew’s memoir. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

For all its wild Nova Scotian beauty, traces of Singapore are woven quietly into the lodge – hints of home for Ms Ho and of fond familiarity for Mr Wallace. 

In the library, she keeps a well-thumbed copy of Singapore’s first prime minister Lee Kuan Yew’s memoir From Third World To First: The Singapore Story: 1965-2000. On a shelf in the same space, a yard-of-ale glass from Raffles Singapore hotel is perched on a wooden stand. 

A yard-of-ale glass from Raffles Singapore hotel sits on a shelf in the library. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

And in the main lobby, a cherished Peranakan-style wooden cabinet with green patterned glass – sourced from a furniture shop in Siglap and once used as Ms Ho’s shoe cupboard – serves as a display stand for curated items available for purchase. These include hand-poured candles and housemade treats like jams, jellies and granolas. 

A Peranakan-style wooden cabinet, once used to keep Ms Ho’s shoes, now doubles as a display stand for items for purchase. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

Most guests arrive from Canada or the United States, but Asian travellers do pass through.

One of the most direct routes to Nova Scotia from Singapore is via a 15-hour direct flight to Vancouver on Air Canada, then a roughly six-hour flight to Halifax Stanfield International Airport. The round-trip airfare can come up to around $2,000 a passenger.

Occasionally, a Singaporean guest will spot these items around the lodge, pause and bring it up in conversation with Mr Wallace or Ms Ho.

“We’ve had a few Singaporean guests over the past few years, and when they go up to the library, they’ll go, ‘Oh, there’s another Singaporean in the lodge, for sure’,” says Ms Ho with a laugh. 

“Who else would have a Lee Kuan Yew book and a slice of Singapore history in the library? It’s a good conversation starter for us.”

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Rooted in nature

In guest rooms, there are no televisions or air-conditioners. It was a deliberate move, Mr Wallace says, to honour the majestic wilderness they are surrounded by. 

He says: “In Nova Scotia, we always say Mother Nature doesn’t need any of our help. So, there are many things that we decide not to do, especially if they mess with the pristine environment. Here, you won’t find a swimming pool, tennis court or floodlit parking lots. We try to have the same philosophy in our suites too.”

Instead, the couple have doubled down on complimentary activities. These include discovery walks, forest bathing sessions and, by far one of the most popular activities, stargazing.

Lodge guests can join complimentary guided stargazing experiences from a platform under one of North America’s darkest skies. PHOTO: TROUT POINT LODGE

In late 2014, under the Starlight Initiative – an international effort supported by Unesco in defence of the quality and value of dark skies – the lodge was certified as the world’s first starlight hotel. The distinction recognises the commitment to preserving dark skies and developing astrotourism offerings.

In the Tobeatic Wilderness Area, where there is little light pollution and obstruction from buildings, the starry night sky is a sight to behold – inky black studded with thousands of twinkling dots. 

Just a two-minute walk from the resort, guests can participate in a guided stargazing experience from a platform with advanced telescopic equipment to spot major constellations and the Milky Way.

“We see many meteor showers here throughout the year. Most of us can’t see these in the cities because of light pollution. So, when it’s crystal clear, it’s incredible,” says Ms Ho. 

Even the food served at the lodge takes its cue from the land. Seasonal menus are shaped by fresh produce available – from heirloom carrots, raspberries and wild mushrooms in summer to apples and squashes in autumn.

Due to the lodge’s remote location, planning ahead is necessary and guests must inform the team of dietary restrictions and allergies at least 48 hours in advance. A four-course chef’s menu costs C$175 a person. 

For the couple, the essence of Trout Point Lodge can be summed up in three words: authentic, luxurious and peaceful. 

“Our goal is for guests to be comfortable. Enjoy nature, eat and sleep well – that’s our aim,” says Ms Ho. 

As newcomers to the lodge business, the journey to create an ideal guest experience was far from smooth sailing.

Hiring the right people proved one of the lodge’s biggest challenges. Beyond competence, Ms Ho says staff need to share a love for nature and an appreciation of the lodge’s remoteness – qualities that make conscientiousness and teamwork more critical than ever.

That remoteness came with other responsibilities. Strict rules were put in place to manage rubbish and compost, ensuring curious wildlife did not make unwanted appearances.

Their adaptability was tested even more during Covid-19.

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With Nova Scotia’s borders tightened for over eight months, the lodge relied on steady demand from local travellers during the months they were allowed to operate. But a provincewide staffing shortage meant those periods were anything but easy.

“When we were open, we were so busy and so short-handed,” says Ms Ho. “My team worked incredibly long hours that year.”

Being lodge owners is a far cry from their former careers, which begs the question: Was running a luxury wilderness lodge always part of the plan? 

Mr Wallace says: “Saying it’s the dream for us makes for a good story, but the honest answer is no. We were both happily pursuing our careers and doing our own things. Then we took a holiday that changed our lives – and that worked for us. It really worked.”

For more travel stories, go to str.sg/travel

pitfall of buying house for a child

Pitfall of buying houses for your child 

Before doing it... Think twice. 

Straits times. 

Thinking of buying an apartment for your adult children so that they can have a headstart in life without the extra financial burden of mortgages?

Before well-off parents jump on the popular bandwagon of financial planning by getting their kids into real estate as well, they should realise that such moves are not without pitfalls.

One of the biggest risks is that such valuable investments will be shared by the kids’ estranged spouses if their marriages fail.

Unlike other pre-marital assets that are usually excluded, it is often hard to keep property from being shared if it is used as the couple’s matrimonial home.

People who already own residential property cannot apply for a Housing Board flat and they will have to foot the additional buyer’s stamp duty (ABSD) if they buy another home with a future spouse.

So it is very likely that young couples will use existing properties that were gifted by their parents as their matrimonial homes.

Here are three important points parents should note before gifting properties to their children.

Inheritance becomes matrimonial property

A recent divorce provides the starkest example of how family inheritance can end up being shared by people you no longer want to have any dealings with.

During the good times, the wife in this case had no qualms using two houses given by her late mother as the matrimonial home.

The houses, which were valued at $6 million, were adjacent and linked via a common back gate.

As their three kids grew, the couple sold their apartment and used the sales proceeds to link-up the two houses so all the family could live there comfortably.

They built a common kitchen and dining area in the second house and converted the kitchen in the first one into study rooms.

The husband, a banker, was the sole breadwinner and he paid the bulk of the renovation costs.

Although the two houses belonged to the wife, this was a classic case where the spouse could have a share in them after he had “substantially improved” the properties.

The value of the houses dwarfed the couples’ other assets, which were valued at about $2.7 million

The High Court later found that the husband was entitled to a 40 per cent share of the combined assets of $8.7 million. While he received $3.48 million, his wife got $5.22 million, which was less than the value of the two houses she inherited.

Compare this to another case involving well-off parents who allowed their son and daughter-in-law to live in their $5 million house.

When the son’s marriage failed, his ex-wife tried to get a slice of the house, which was partially owned by the son because it had been their matrimonial home.

But the Court of Appeal ruled that the house was not up for sharing because it belonged to the parents, who had paid for everything.

And since the ex-wife merely lived there and did not do anything to improve the property, the court ruled that mere residence would not entitle her to claim her ex-husband’s share of the house, which remained as a pre-marital asset.

Risk of over-leveraging

Parents should always consider their own needs first before draining their retirement funds just so junior can have a home. There have been several cases involving parents who regretted such decisions because they found themselves short of cash later in life.

They tried to stake claims to their kids’ properties but failed because they could not reclaim gifts that had been properly made.

If you have paid for a property, a “resulting trust” will usually enable you to claim the share you are entitled to. But it is hard to persuade the court to rule in your favour if the purpose of letting your kid hold the property was to save you from paying the ABSD.

Cash is king

If you truly want to make adult life easier for your kids, consider opening joint bank accounts for them with generous dollops of cash.

They can then draw on these accounts if they need help and the balance would be off limits to ex-spouses as it would be deemed pre-marital funds.

Parents should not be overly hung up over property because the most valuable assets they can ever give to their children are love and wisdom, which are priceless.

3 million hiding

It was a case of better late than never for a woman who discovered that her crafty ex-husband had hidden around $3 million from the asset split when they divorced 15 years earlier.

The ex-wife now wants her rightful share of the hidden stash, estimated at $1.4 million as she claims she was entitled to 44.5 per cent of their overall matrimonial assets.

The couple had agreed to split their asets worth $4.5 million when their marriage ended in 2010 with a “consent order” that awarded the woman $2 million, or 44.5 per cent.

All was well for a decade until the parties clashed over the amount of maintenance the ex-husband should pay for their two children.

He had asked a court to reduce the sum from about $5,800 a month to $2,500 but blundered by inadvertently talking about a foreign bank account that was not disclosed in their past dealings.

With the cat out of the bag, the ex-wife engaged a financial sleuth to look into that account. The “forensic investigative report” that followed revealed that there was a balance of about US$1.9 million around the time when they split.

Further checks also uncovered that the ex-husband had a stake of US$800,000 in a company that was also not disclosed during their divorce settlement.

This meant the couple should have been looking at an asset division of $7.7 million instead of $4.5 million.

Disclosure is mandatory 

Cases like this highlight the risk of one party hiding assets whenever couples make decisions without any inquiry or a court order for a full and frank disclosure of just what each party owns.

In this case, the husband’s lawyer argued that a full disclosure might not be mandatory for all negotiations for divorce settlements, especially when couples were in touch directly.

For instance, spouses might sometimes agree to divide the matrimonial home and retain any assets held in their sole names without disclosing the full list of all assets.

In this case, when the wife said she would accept $2 million in full settlement, the husband actually replied that he would only accept this proposal “under protest” pending a “global settlement of all the ancillary matters”.

If he had dishonestly concealed his assets, his lawyer said, he would have immediately accepted the offer without any condition. Moreover, he would also not have asked for more time to pay as this could risk scuttling a settlement that was in his favour.

But High Court Judge Choo Han Teck did not buy the argument because the responsibility of full and frank disclosure applies not only to contested divorces but also to exchanges of information between parties and their lawyers. After all, the outcome of such negotiations is still subject to the court’s approval.

If the husband had been forthright from the start by disclosing all his assets while asserting that he would be willing to divide only some of them, he would have avoided the current dispute, the judge added.

Hiding assets from ex-spouse

The husband claimed that the disputed sum was not relevant to the divorce because the funds were loans from his former business partner who later died.

He added that his then wife knew about this and the late partner’s relatives were willing to waive the loans in exchange for help in procuring certain assets. He added that the documents did not reveal any fraud and that he never told his ex-wife during their negotiations that he had disclosed all his assets then.

But Justice Choo noted that the husband’s conduct revealed “a pattern of deliberate concealment rather than mere oversight”.

For instance, he first claimed that the money in the bank account originated from the sale of stock options but later changed this story to claim the funds were loans for investments that were subsequently waived.

“His inconsistent narratives suggest an attempt to conceal his assets rather than a genuine explanation for their non-disclosure,” Justice Choo added.

Similarly, the husband was not justified in giving a false statement to claim that his undisclosed company was registered in 2018, when the evidence showed that he had owned it since 2004.

“Such a significant misrepresentation about a company he owned for two decades cannot be an innocuous error,” Justice Choo added.

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Effect of non-disclosure

If the wife knew from the start that her ex-husband had stashed away assets but chose to accept a fixed settlement sum of $2 million, she would not be permitted to renege on the deal based on the fraudulent non-disclosure.

Justice Choo noted that the wife probably knew her ex-husband might have other assets since she knew that he “came from money” and owned shares in the family company. Yet, she never asked to include those assets in the joint asset list during their negotiations.

But the million-dollar question has yet to be answered: Would the parties have been able to reach a deal if all the assets were on the table then and, if so, would the wife have still been able to get 44.5 per cent of the total pool of matrimonial assets?

Justice Choo noted that even if he had found that the hidden assets should have been considered in the split, the solution cannot be to retrospectively increase the pool of matrimonial assets and award the wife 44.5 per cent of the undisclosed sum.

In past cases, the courts had used such a “quantification approach” to increase the shares for spouses during ongoing hearings when there was evidence of non-disclosure.

But the judge said that this approach could not be used in this case because the terms of the deal were agreed upon 15 years ago, and the wife had also received the $2 million settlement sum.

So there was no legal basis to allow her to keep this sum and simultaneously receive an additional award based on the undisclosed assets.

The wife cannot have her cake and eat it too because the rule that “fraud unravels all” means that once fraud is established, the settlement deal must be set aside entirely, and not partially varied.

In the end, the court did not make a ruling on the hidden stash because both sides would need to present fresh arguments for it.

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What this means is that with more money on the table now, both sides must decide whether they should start a new court action or reach a new settlement on the division of their matrimonial assets.

If there is a lesson in this case, it is that spouses should always be upfront with each other when things go wrong so that they avoid prolonging the pain and incurring more legal costs.

After all, some secrets can’t stay hidden forever and if it happens like in this case, the parties have to relive the nightmare of fighting with each other again.

Check out Invest editor Tan Ooi Boon’s new book – Retire With More Money – at stbooks.sg

Tan Ooi Boon writes for and oversees the Invest section of The Straits Times.

calm room

A recent report that some companies are introducing quiet rooms in the workplace reminded me of my struggles with finding quiet spots in public places.

The article on July 14 in The Straits Times, “From wellness zone to neurodivergent room: How companies are creating inviting, inclusive offices”, mentioned the 2024 Global Workplace Insights report which found that only 68 per cent of Singapore respondents said they could easily find suitable spots to get work done in their offices, compared with the global average of 76 per cent. The poll covered more than 10,000 people from 13 countries and was done by Unispace, an Australia-headquartered interior design company that has a Singapore branch.

At professional services firm EY’s One Raffles Quay office in Singapore, there are quiet rooms for those needing a “sensory break”. The rooms feature dimmable lights, walls in muted colours and sound-absorbing materials. While these rooms recognise the needs of “neurodivergent” staff who may get exhausted by social interactions and noise, they are also available to any employee seeking a quiet spot for focused work.

A quick search online throws up many articles on the “quiet revolution” in office space planning, as more employers recognise the limits of open layout designs which foster collaboration and teamwork, but distract from focused work. Research also shows that a constant hum of activity, such as phone conversations and clatter of keyboards, can tire the brain and reduce productivity. So while open office layouts remain popular, more employers are offering quiet pods, partitioned cubicles, folding screens for privacy or green spaces that look out onto calm water or greenery views. 

As workplaces get busier and noisier, the push for quiet zones at work will intensify. These days, it is mostly the so-called C-suite executives and senior staff who have the luxury of working in the quiet hush of boardroom-level panelled offices with actual walls, not just office partitions that shield occupants from casual view but not ambient noise. Access to quiet working spaces thus have an equity element.

I realised this late in my career, when I was given an office room of my own at The Straits Times when I became Opinion editor. It was tiny, but it had a door that could shut off noise. I remembered a senior government leader I interviewed years ago, who told me he kept an exercise mat under his desk for a quick lie-down after lunch to recharge. He was so high up, he could deal with whatever back talk anyone might offer.

I did one better. I had a three-seater sofa delivered to my office. A post-lunch lie-down in my darkened office became a regular occurrence. I didn’t keep it secret, but I didn’t talk about it either. Since then, I always had a recliner or full-length sofa in my office. As I became more sensitive to noise and light, I also developed greater empathy for those with sensory disorders. I told some of my younger colleagues, who struggled in an open office setting, that my quiet office was available to them, even if I wasn’t around.

These days, my work space as a freelance writer is my home in Perth, where I have a study overlooking the back garden and our chicken run; or the local library, which is usually quiet.

While the quiet revolution quietly takes off in some progressive workspaces in some cities, my hope is that quiet rooms become more common in our public buildings in Singapore.

Sensory overload

Two years ago, I flew home to Singapore with my Irish-Australian partner, who had not been to Singapore for years. I was keen to show him Singapore’s civic district, so we stayed near the Raffles Hotel. One highlight was the National Gallery. As a reporter who covered Parliament for decades, I had traipsed around the district umpteen times. But this was my first visit to the restored Gallery building.

I found the restoration stunning. The former City Hall and Supreme Court had been transformed into a building with layers of bright spaces and beautiful lines, in a way that paid homage to their past, while melding into a cohesive whole.

As we walked through the Gallery rooms on the ground floor, a flood of memories came rushing back. The City Hall had witnessed so much of Singapore’s early history, including the proclamation of independence, and the swearing in of Singapore’s first Cabinet. A little bit of my personal history was made there – in 1991, I walked up to the Public Service Commission office at City Hall to hand over a cheque that released me from a scholarship bond. In return, I was contracted to work for my new employer, The Straits Times, for eight years. In the event, I stayed for over 30 years, and still continue as an ad hoc columnist. 

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It was close to noon when my partner and I toured the Gallery. Nostalgia, national pride, anxiety to show off my country to my partner, and hunger, made for an uncomfortable mix and I could feel my senses becoming overwrought. My breath became shallow. The lights appeared too bright. Every sound was an assault on my ears. My blood sugar plunged. I felt light-headed. I stilled myself and took some deep breaths. 

We were walking past one gallery when I saw signs to a “Calm Room”. I asked one of the gallery attendants where it was and made a beeline for it. My partner asked if I wanted his company, and I declined. When I feel overwhelmed, I like to retreat to a dim, cool, quiet space by myself, to breathe and to calm down. We agreed to meet in 15 minutes.

In the Calm Room, the lighting was mellow, the colours neutral, the bustle hushed. There were sofas, and throw cushions. I could feel myself calming down quickly. I explored the room to work off my energy, then sat on the sofa. Once I felt at home, I curled up on the sofa and had a rest. No one else came in during the time I was there.

Once stabilised, I could return to the Gallery visit. We stayed on for an enjoyable hour or so, before heading out to find lunch.

The Calm Room at the Gallery is one of several such zones in public spaces. On its website, the National Gallery described the room as a “calm and sensory-friendly” space that can benefit everyone. It explains: “Many people have experienced being overwhelmed by an intense physical environment, or by anxiety and other emotions. The Calm Room offers a space for gentle respite and recalibration for all.

“The Calm Room, designed with the neurodivergent community in mind, is a safe space for autistic persons and persons with sensory processing issues to rest if they experience sensory overload. This may occur when a neurodivergent brain receives more information through the senses than it can process, leading to discomfort that may require self-soothing behaviours to regulate.”

I don’t think I am neurodivergent, but I have had sensory overload experiences more frequently as I age. My (totally unproven) theory is that after decades of over-stimulation, and living life at a fairly frenetic pace, my nervous system is telling me to slow things down and reduce sensory overload. I am listening.

Calm rooms benefit a host of other people too. The National Gallery website added: “The Calm Room also benefits persons with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) or with dementia. A person with ADHD can regain focus. Persons living with dementia, who may be prone to sundowning or other forms of confusion, also benefit from a safe space to calm down during episodes.” Sundowning refers to the increased state of confusion and agitation in the late afternoon and evening close to sunset, experienced by some people with dementia.

Quiet hours, quiet spaces

Singapore has many places for people to seek respite from noise and bustle. But most of these are outdoors. A list of 50 quiet spaces in Singapore compiled by wanderlog, a travel website, comprises mostly outdoor parks and beaches. 

We need more quiet areas in public spaces, so that citizens out and about in the city can take a breather to pause and recharge. 

As Singapore gets more crowded, it will likely get more noisy. At the same time, older citizens will desire quiet spaces where they can take a break when out in public. More quiet zones will help cater to them, and create oases of calm around the city.

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I hope more public sector organisations will introduce quiet areas in their work spaces for their staff, and in the public areas for members of the public. 

Some have done so. Dedicated calm or quiet spaces have been set up in the National Museum, National Library branches, dementia day care centres and the Institute of Mental Health (IMH).

SportSG is looking at ways to allocate suitable rooms in existing sports centres to be turned into calm or quiet spaces. This is an admirable initiative.

In public facilities such as libraries and museums, quiet zones can be designated by time, not just space. The National Museum has designated quiet mornings, in addition to its Quiet Room. The first Saturday of each month (9am to 11am) and the first and third Thursdays of each month (9am to noon) are Quiet Mornings. 

Some private sector malls are also offering Quiet Hours for shopping – typically in the morning – when lighting is dimmed and music muted.

Imagine if every library, museum, health centre, hospital, polyclinic and government office building has quiet areas for public access – with dim lighting, muted colours and insulated panels – so that the elderly man who has walked too far, the woman with dementia experiencing confusion, the autistic girl who is overwhelmed or the ADHD child having an episode, has a space to decompress and calm down in. Sometimes, this Gen X auntie who likes going out, but who gets overwhelmed by too much noise and crowd, will join them.

Chua Mui Hoong is a pastoral care worker based in Perth and a former Opinion editor of The Straits Times.

why sycide

He was a young man who was admitted to hospital because he felt suicidal. It was nothing new – ever since he started using drugs, he had had these recurring thoughts of self-destruction.

He had done things while he was on drugs, and while trying desperately to get drugs, that filled him with shame and self-loathing. To blot out these feelings, he would get high again. He had gone through rounds of detoxes, stays in halfway houses, and a rotating roster of well-intentioned helpers. And now, once again, he was back in hospital.

After a few days of stay, his mental state appeared to improve; he denied having any ongoing suicidal thoughts, became more communicative, and assured us that he would attend his follow-up appointment with our specialised addiction service. He promised his wife that he would stay at another halfway house, one that had been arranged for by his pastor.

He was assessed to be no longer at imminent risk of harm. He seemed earnest and sincere about wanting to turn over a new leaf, so we discharged him with these well-laid follow-up plans in place.

Two weeks later, he was dead. It was later established that he had taken his own life. 

I was appalled. It wasn’t that, before this, I had not lost patients who died by suicide.

In my profession, there is a saying: “There are two kinds of psychiatrists – those who have had patients who died by suicide, and those who will.” And I had been in practice long enough for that to have happened a few painful times. But this was somewhat different.

Tyranny of addiction

Almost all doctors will encounter patients who are addicted to various substances (in medical parlance, we collectively refer to these conditions as substance use disorders). And what we call an addiction can be defined – in the dry precise language of a standard psychiatric textbook – as “an enduring, inordinately strong tendency to engage in some form of pleasure-producing behaviour in a pattern that is characterised by impaired control and continuation despite harmful consequences”.

The central question is not what makes these substances pleasurable for people in general, but what makes them so much more inexorable and enslaving for those who use them addictively.

There are a myriad of psychoactive substances, and it’s a growing list: from the commonplace and legal, such as alcohol and nicotine, to illicit drugs like methamphetamine, heroin, cannabis, cocaine and Ecstasy, as well as a range of other designer drugs.

This also includes the dangerous repurposing of substances such as fentanyl and ketamine, with the latest being the anaesthetic agent etomidate, which is now being laced into vaping products.

There is a medley of explanations for why people become addicted, with some leaning towards nurture, others towards nature, and some towards a combination of both.

The nature perspective views addiction as a brain disease involving neurological dysfunction.

Studies have shown that the heavy and consistent use of certain substances (stimulants like methamphetamine and opioids like fentanyl) can damage areas of the brain that regulate emotion and behaviour.

Other studies have found differences in brain chemistry between those who are addicted and those who are not.

Helplines

Mental well-being

National helpline: 1771 (24 hours) / 6669-1771 (via WhatsApp)

Samaritans of Singapore: 1-767 (24 hours) / 9151-1767 (24 hours CareText via WhatsApp)

Singapore Association for Mental Health: 1800-283-7019

Silver Ribbon Singapore: 6386-1928

Chat, Centre of Excellence for Youth Mental Health: 6493-6500/1

Women’s Helpline (Aware): 1800-777-5555 (weekdays, 10am to 6pm)

The Seniors Helpline: 1800-555-5555 (weekdays, 9am to 5pm)

Counselling

Touchline (Counselling): 1800-377-2252

Touch Care Line (for caregivers): 6804-6555

Counselling and Care Centre: 6536-6366

We Care Community Services: 3165-8017

Shan You Counselling Centre: 6741-9293

Clarity Singapore: 6757-7990

Online resources

mindline.sg/fsmh

eC2.sg

tinklefriend.sg

chat.mentalhealth.sg

carey.carecorner.org.sg (for those aged 13 to 25)

limitless.sg/talk (for those aged 12 to 25)

shanyou.org.sg

For decades, dopamine was considered central to addiction – a 1997 Time Magazine cover even called it “the master molecule of addiction”.

Addictive substances, it was believed, flood the brain’s reward system with dopamine, creating intense pleasure and reinforcing drug use.

But over time, the brain becomes less responsive to other rewards, making drug use compulsive and an insatiable craving – not to feel high but to avoid feeling low.

However, not all abused substances, such as opiates and cannabis, trigger this dopamine surge, and the dopamine-centric model has yet to yield effective treatments.

The nurture camp, by contrast, argues that addiction arises not from a broken brain but from the motivations and contexts surrounding drug use – often as an escape from intolerable conditions such as untreated mental illness, bullying, loneliness, trauma or fraught family environments.

The idea of addiction as a brain-centric disease has also not gone down well with a generally sceptical public.

Many see addiction as a defect of character or a moral failing – an inability to control desire and direct one’s own life. In this view, addiction is a capitulation of will, a surrender to a form of tyranny of one’s own making.

This sense of subjugation was captured by the 19th-century essayist and literary critic Thomas De Quincey in Confessions Of An English Opium-Eater (likely the first literary work to depict drug addiction from a personal and psychological perspective).

De Quincey agonised that what made his use of opium diabolical was not the vivid visions and dreams it induced – which were sublime, as well as surreal and terrifying – but rather the tyranny of the addiction: a malevolent force that seized control over his mind and will.

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A bitter pill

As scientists and clinicians continue to grapple with the mechanisms underlying addiction, this uncertainty that those afflicted – and their loved ones – must live with is a bitter pill to swallow.

Burnout, exhaustion, shame, disgust, rage and mistrust are common among those caring for someone constantly in search of the next hit. The same person they once loved and trusted has, through addiction, morphed into someone they may not even trust to be left alone, let alone with anything that could be stolen and sold.

Yet guilt often accompanies this bitter resentment of a parent, sibling, child or spouse who is clearly struggling with his or her own personal hell.

It is understandable, then, that many would seek to relieve themselves of such ambivalent and conflicting emotions.

This is, in part, why it can feel easier (and tempting) to view addiction in absolute terms: either as a choice or as a disease, justifying the anger in the first instance and pity in the second.

Research consistently shows that negative attitudes towards substance users among health professionals are common.

Such attitudes are associated with reduced empathy and engagement, withholding of treatment services, and poorer treatment outcomes.

This stigmatisation – marked by labelling, stereotyping and discrimination – towards people with substance use disorders often surpasses the stigma directed at patients with serious mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, which are themselves already highly stigmatised.

This was very much the case with the public as well – as we found in a study in 2023 that examined the attitudes in Singapore towards mental disorders.

“People were more likely to perceive a person who abuses alcohol as being weak, not sick, and dangerous and unpredictable as compared with (those with) other mental health conditions examined in our survey,” said Associate Professor Mythily Subramaniam of the Institute of Mental Health, who led the study.

She added: “Such biased attitudes also undermine the willingness to seek help. Those who feel stigmatised are less likely to seek help, and, if they do, they are more likely to drop out of treatment.”

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Confronting biases

When I heard that the patient had died, I felt a different kind of guilt.

I recalled that frisson of resignation and resentment while reading through his past medical records before our first encounter – thinking that it would be yet another futile effort.

I also remember feeling relieved that I could refer him to a colleague with specialist expertise in addiction. I felt that I did not quite have what it took – in terms of knowledge, experience, and inclination to manage patients with substance use disorders.

I was chastened by his suicide, and it was cold comfort to read studies showing that negative attitudes vary with the level of clinical training. Addiction specialists tend to hold more positive attitudes than general psychiatrists like myself or primary care physicians.

It suggests some sort of connection between professionals’ knowledge and skills and their attitudes, highlighting the critical role of what these papers referred to as “self-efficacy” in shaping professional behaviour. 

And so, despite the wide range of evidence-based treatments available for addiction – from detoxification and transitional housing, to inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation, peer support, various forms of psychotherapy and counselling, and a number of effective medications – recent research has shown that most of these treatments remain underused.

Many people have a simplistic view of addiction. They think it happens only to dysfunctional people from dysfunctional families, or with those with “weak character” with anti-social tendencies. In reality, addiction affects people of all races, genders and segments of society. There is no single cause or single cure for addiction, and no easy, unambiguous answers to the many conundrums of addiction.

Yet there are those who have managed to turn their lives around. How they manage to do so often seems a mystery to me.

But I’ve seen that some people can change when they are faced with dire consequences – often when they hit rock bottom – but also when they have hope and support that change is possible. 

As health professionals, we must provide some of that hope and support, tempered with a compassionate attitude as expected of us. More addiction training and greater clinical experience in this area would certainly help.

What may be harder, however, is learning to confront and overcome our biases, and to truly see the humanity in those struggling with addiction. If we allow those biases to persist unchecked, they will cloud our understanding and distance us from the very people who need our help.

Professor Chong Siow Ann is a senior consultant psychiatrist at the Institute of Mental Health.

Korra high sucide rate

SEOUL - South Korea’s life expectancy reached 83.5 years as of 2023, surpassing by 2.4 years the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development’s (OECD) average of 81.1 years, a report released by the Paris-based organisation showed on July 30.

The same OECD Health Statistics 2025 report released via South Korea’s Ministry of Health and Welfare showed that the country continues to report the highest suicide rate among OECD member nations, despite progress in life expectancy and health outcomes.

Life expectancy refers to the average number of years a newborn is expected to live based on current mortality trends. Indicators also show improvements in medical outcomes.

South Korea’s avoidable mortality rate, which refers to the average number of deaths from preventable causes, stood at 151 per 100,000 people in 2022, significantly lower than the OECD average of 228.6.

A lower number means the quality of the medical environment is higher.

The rate has declined by 3.1 per cent on a yearly average over the past decade, indicating a steady improvement in health care quality.

The country’s infant mortality rate was also lower, at 2.5 deaths per 1,000 live births, compared with the OECD average of 4.1.

High suicide, smoking rates with rising obesity

Since 2003, the country has topped the list in suicide mortality.

The latest comparable data from 2022 showed South Korea’s suicide rate stood at 23.2 deaths per 100,000 people — more than twice the OECD average of 10.7.

At the same time, there have been signs of gradual improvement.

From 2012 to 2022, South Korea’s suicide rate dropped by 23.4 per cent, from 30.3 to 23.2, outpacing the OECD average decline of 16.4 per cent over the same period.

In 2023, South Korea’s current health expenditure amounted to 8.5 per cent of gross domestic product, slightly lower than the OECD average of 9.1 per cent.

However, due to the rapidly aging population, per capita health spending has grown faster than in most countries.

South Korea’s per capita health expenditure rose by an average of 7.8 per cent annually over the past decade, compared to the OECD average increase of 5.2 per cent.

In terms of purchasing power parity, which is a yardstick for comparing the purchasing power of different currencies, the figure stood at US$4,586 (S$5,900) per capita in 2023.

In 2023, 15.3 per cent of South Koreans aged 15 and older were classified as daily smokers, higher than the OECD average of 13.2 per cent. However, the smoking rate has been steadily declining, down from 19.9 per cent in 2013 and 17.5 per cent in 2018.

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Meanwhile, per capita annual alcohol consumption was 7.8 litres in 2023, below the OECD average of 8.6 litres. Alcohol intake, similar to smoking, has trended downwards over the past decade.

Despite lower rates of overweight and obesity compared with other OECD countries, South Korea is seeing a gradual rise in obesity.

In 2023, 36.5 per cent of people aged 15 and over had a body mass index of 25 or higher – the second-lowest among OECD countries after Japan at 26 per cent. While still low in ranking, this marked an increase from 31.5 per cent in 2013 and 34.3 per cent in 2018. THE KOREA HERALD/ASIA NEWS NETWORK

Helplines

Mental well-being

National helpline: 1771 (24 hours) / 6669-1771 (via WhatsApp)

Samaritans of Singapore: 1-767 (24 hours) / 9151-1767 (24 hours CareText via WhatsApp)

Singapore Association for Mental Health: 1800-283-7019

Silver Ribbon Singapore: 6386-1928

Chat, Centre of Excellence for Youth Mental Health: 6493-6500/1

Women’s Helpline (Aware): 1800-777-5555 (weekdays, 10am to 6pm)

The Seniors Helpline: 1800-555-5555 (weekdays, 9am to 5pm)

Counselling

Touchline (Counselling): 1800-377-2252

Touch Care Line (for caregivers): 6804-6555

Counselling and Care Centre: 6536-6366

We Care Community Services: 3165-8017

Shan You Counselling Centre: 6741-9293

Clarity Singapore: 6757-7990

Online resources

mindline.sg/fsmh

eC2.sg

tinklefriend.sg

chat.mentalhealth.sg

carey.carecorner.org.sg (for those aged 13 to 25)

limitless.sg/talk (for those aged 12 to 25)

shanyou.org.sg

death by sucide

In 2024, suicide deaths among men and women in their 30s rose to 75 – the highest increase across all age groups.

This was one of the details that stood out in the latest report by the Samaritans of Singapore, which revealed that 314 people in Singapore took their own lives in 2024.

Numbers can rise and fall year to year, but adults aged 30 to 39 now make up almost a quarter of all suicides here. That can’t be explained by population growth alone. It reflects how heavy life can feel in this middle decade.

We like to imagine the 30s as a “prime” decade. Careers should be secure and growing, families are forming, health is still on our side. For many, this image does not match reality. Instead, the 30s can feel like a decade of colliding responsibilities.

Helplines

Mental well-being

National helpline: 1771 (24 hours) / 6669-1771 (via WhatsApp)

Samaritans of Singapore: 1-767 (24 hours) / 9151-1767 (24 hours CareText via WhatsApp)

Singapore Association for Mental Health: 1800-283-7019

Silver Ribbon Singapore: 6386-1928

Chat, Centre of Excellence for Youth Mental Health: 6493-6500/1

Women’s Helpline (Aware): 1800-777-5555 (weekdays, 10am to 6pm)

The Seniors Helpline: 1800-555-5555 (weekdays, 9am to 5pm)

Counselling

Touchline (Counselling): 1800-377-2252

Touch Care Line (for caregivers): 6804-6555

Counselling and Care Centre: 6536-6366

We Care Community Services: 3165-8017

Shan You Counselling Centre: 6741-9293

Clarity Singapore: 6757-7990

Online resources

mindline.sg/fsmh

eC2.sg

tinklefriend.sg

chat.mentalhealth.sg

carey.carecorner.org.sg (for those aged 13 to 25)

limitless.sg/talk (for those aged 12 to 25)

shanyou.org.sg

The private worlds of the 30s

A man wakes up, puts on his office clothes and boards the MRT as usual. He lost his job months ago but has not told his spouse. He spends the day in a library, scrolling through job ads, rehearsing imaginary interviews and wondering how much longer he can keep up the act.

A mother leaves work on time each day to fetch her children from childcare. She smiles at the gate, chats with other parents, and goes home to cook, feed, bathe and coax the kids to bed. She is also caring for her father-in-law with dementia. After the house is quiet, she sits on the kitchen floor and cries, convinced that she cannot keep going.

A person picks up the spouse’s phone and sees a string of messages confirming a relationship with someone else. The next day, it’s about going through the motions – nods in meetings, replies to e-mails, and forcing a smile when colleagues ask about family. That night, the person spends an hour in the carpark, staring at the dark dashboard, unsure how to walk back into a life that now feels like a lie.

These stories are not rare. They are lived silently in homes across the island. Suicide often seems sudden to outsiders, but it is usually the final impulsive chapter of a long, quiet, heart-wrenching battle.

Work is often the sharpest edge. The 30s are often the years of chasing promotions, trying to stay relevant in a fast-changing economy or bracing yourself for layoffs. Some push through long hours while quietly fearing stagnation.

Finances loom large. Mortgages and car loans need to be paid. Some are supporting younger children while also facing the cost of ageing parents. Others are still recovering from failed ventures or unexpected debts.

Relationships add their own weight. Marriage, divorce or the heartbreak of a long-term relationship ending can leave deep scars. Parenthood, if it comes, is a blessing that often arrives with exhaustion.

Men and women in their 30s carry the same heavy load, though often in different ways.

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Men, women, and the ways we cope

Of the 314 suicides in 2024, 202 were men. This pattern is seen worldwide: Men die by suicide more often, though women attempt more frequently. Psychiatrists call this the “gender paradox” of suicide.

Men in Singapore are still raised in a culture that prizes self-reliance. The unspoken lesson is to solve problems alone, to protect one’s pride and avoid appearing weak.

Many hesitate to tell a friend or family member how much they are struggling. Even when someone notices, they often say “I’m fine”, because admitting despair feels like failure. When a man does attempt suicide, he is more likely to use a lethal method. A single impulsive act, often fuelled by shame or alcohol, can be fatal.

Women carry a different burden. Many juggle work with caregiving for children and parents. They may face postnatal depression, the loneliness of single parenting, or the slow erosion of confidence from an emotionally abusive relationship.

Women tend to reach out for help earlier, confiding in friends, siblings or colleagues. But reaching out does not always mean receiving support. Social networks can be thin, and not every story of struggle is met with understanding.

The stressors themselves are often similar: work insecurity, financial strain, relationship breakdowns and the exhaustion of caregiving. What differs is how pain is expressed, how it is hidden and how society responds.

Spotting people at risk in their 30s is hard. Life at this stage is busy, compartmentalised and often lonely. Adults can hide distress behind routines. Social circles shrink as university friends drift away and colleagues remain at the level of casual banter.

The early signs are subtle, and detection relies on small acts of noticing. But many of us hesitate to ask twice if someone is okay. Sometimes we do not want to intrude. Sometimes we fear the answer.

Prevention must happen where adults live and work

Often, prevention is spoken of in the context of crisis lines. But if we want to save lives in this age group, we need to reach people where they spend their time: mainly workplaces and community spaces. It is about building human connection and a net of layers before a crisis hits.

The first layer is awareness.

We need campaigns showing that suicide can happen to ordinary men and women in their 30s, and that seeking help is an act of strength, not shame. They should also show real stories in familiar local settings, such as coffee shops, gyms and offices, which could help people see themselves and their loved ones in the message.

Awareness opens the door to prevention.

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In the UK, Norwich City Football Club released a short film for World Mental Health Day. It followed two male friends through a football season.

One seemed withdrawn and lonely, the other cheerful and outgoing. Viewers assumed the quiet man would die by suicide. In the final scene, it was the smiling friend who took his life.

The film went viral, with more than 300 million views and thousands reaching out to Samaritans for help. Its strength lay in meeting men where they were: in a football culture they understood, while dismantling stereotypes about who might be at risk.

The second layer is workplaces, where adults spend most of their time.

Workplaces are a natural front line. Managers are often the first to notice absenteeism, slipping performance or withdrawal. Companies can create safer environments by:

• Training managers to recognise distress and respond without judgment;

• Offering confidential counselling through Employee Assistance Programmes (EAPs);

• Normalising mental health days and check-ins; and

• Encouraging peer support, so colleagues quietly look out for one another.

Men, in particular, benefit when emotional conversations are normalised in settings they already trust. Women may find support in parenting or caregiving networks, but many still need spaces where they can admit burnout without shame.

Managers can learn to spot withdrawal or sudden changes, respond with empathy and connect staff to support like counselling or EAPs.

The third layer is community support. Parenting groups, gyms, alumni networks and neighbourhood activities can be lifelines, especially when they make space for honest conversations. Men often need encouragement to talk; women need safe, non-judgmental spaces to share burnout and emotional pain.

The fourth layer is people themselves.

Friends, siblings and colleagues are often the first to notice someone slipping away. Simple skills, like asking if someone is okay, listening without judgment and knowing where to guide them, can save lives.

The net must include professional and crisis services like the Samaritans, general practitioners and mental health professionals. When the other layers guide someone to this level early, the chance of survival rises sharply.

A quiet call to action

The reality is that a net like this is not built overnight.

It is stitched together by thousands of small human actions: a manager who checks in, a neighbour who asks twice, a friend who offers to accompany someone to counselling. These layers of connection, repeated across society, keep people tethered to life.

Even as suicides among people in their 30s rise, there is hope. Behind every number is a life that can still be saved, and prevention does not belong to experts alone. It belongs to all of us.

We cannot assume someone else will step in. A culture where it is safe to speak up, and where reaching out is seen as courage, can save lives.

If we notice, if we ask, and if we care enough to act, we become part of the net that keeps people tethered to life.

No one should have to carry the weight of their 30s, or any stage of life, alone. Together, we can make sure they do not.

Dr Jared Ng is a psychiatrist in private practice and a board member of Samaritans of Singapore, where he supports community efforts in suicide prevention.

Gasper Tan is chief executive of Samaritans of Singapore, leading its crisis support, volunteer network and public education initiatives.

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