All that remains

 

So glad that these floor tiles leading to the famous Rochore Bean Curd at Short Street are still around! Unfortunately, when I was there on 10 August, the day after National Day, it was closed. Well, definitely must go another time before it is gone, like so many things.

Like the Haw Par Building for example. In its place, this very swanky building (top pic). A description and history of the old building with its tiger on the facade and the roof top, can be found in the wonderful blog by Jerome Lim: https://thelongnwindingroad.wordpress.com/tag/selegie-road/.

It was my favourite building in this area (Selegie).

Rainbow over East Coast Park

The clean-up after the oil spill was a great job! 

Changi Point re-revisited

 

Nicely manicured lawns and all but lacking in rustic charm. Well, could have been worse, right?

Remember this wall?

Crumbling old wall near the building (below) that was once part of an airport and then the People's Association of Singapore. Glad that it is still standing.

Back lane of Emerald Hill

 

A fall and a memory

 Can't imagine I tripped and fell... again. The last time was missing a step at an overhead bridge. This time right in front of the Sri Mariamman Temple. Was looking at its shrouded gopuram (the front tower) as well as all its sacred cows perched on its walls. Think it is undergoing a face-lift.

Each time I fell I remembered my mum telling me how she slipped and fell in Chinatown while looking for the stall that sold dried mushrooms.

I cannot wish hard enough that I had accompanied her. She is gone now but the pain and regret that I had not shown her enough care and love remain.

The parrot gang

 Whatever happened to the parrot gang at West Coast Park? They were my special attraction whenever I took a walk there. Some three or four of them would be at the park with their beautiful parrots 🦜.  

It's always such a joy to see these birds circle the sky, squawking abandonly. But at a command, they would fly back to settle on their owners' hands.

Of late however, birds and owners are no where to be seen. Hmm, hope they are gone just for a short holiday. 

Strange coincidence

 One or two bus stops after Vivo City, I saw a guy bending over the front right wheel of his car. Think he was jacking it up to change a punctured tyre. 

Another bus stop after this. I saw the same thing. Car colour the same ( looked like the previous car though I  couldn't confirm it's the same make),  punctured tyre same wheel... car parked about the same distance from the bus stop as the last troubled car. Driver bending in the same position.

Did I somehow get a glimpse of the future? Or just coincidence?

Rock of Sisyphus

 First they tell you 10,000 steps a day is good for you. That would take you approximately about 1 hr  and 45 mins. Then they say no good if you just saunter around admiring the view and smelling the roses.  Must do brisk walking. Then they say, just brisk walking not good enough, must do some strength resistance exercises to lessen muscle loss. Still not enough, must also do exercises that increase flexibility... stretch those muscles... work towards long, lean muscles.

So for about three days, I couldn't clear my cat litter very well. Couldn't stoop because of some stretching exercises which I either did wrongly or overly. The rock has rolled back on me.

But hey today, I find I could stoop a bit more! Yay! I have pushed the rock up a little bit.

Homer got it right, the guy who supposedly wrote about the adventures of ancient Greeks and Greek gods in his poems. Sisyphus, one of the characters, a king no less, was condemned by Zeus to push a rock up the hill for eternity -- a punishment for his wicked deeds. The moment Sisyphus managed to push it up a little, it came tumbling back and he had to push it up again. 

Don't we have to keep pushing this rock -- on a personal-- and macro level.  On the macro level, just when we have made some advances in fighting the pandemic, when the economy started to show signs of picking up -- and we have the Ukraine war -- and many other political unrests. We thought technology has come to the rescue.  Hurray for cars, aircon and of course handphones! But then there's climate change. 

I guess that's the human condition. We just have to keep pushing the rock. And oh, count our blessings.

When eating an ice cream is so hard

😖You rush home with your precious tub of ice cream.  Just can't wait to dig in. But why, oh why is it so difficult to remove that stupid piece of foil on top after removing the cap? Sure, there is that little tab which supposedly allows you to lift it up with ease. But tug all you like, it wouldn't budge. A tweezer may help offer a firm grip. Where's that eyebrow tweezer when I needed it? Look, I am having a bad day. Is it so difficult to eat a tub of ice cream?

Wind catchers

 As I passed by this sun-drenched "valley" along Commonwealth Ave, it occurred to me that this would be an ideal place to fly a kite. See, there's a clear space for one to run with the kite so that it will take off. And, there's no one else crazy enough to do the same here -- so no chances of getting one's kite entangled with another. 

I don't remember when was the last time I flew a kite. But I remember the first time I learnt to fly one was down the road outside the house we used to live. I would hold the kite chest level. My brother would hold the string some distance down the road. At the shout of 3, I was supposed to throw the kite up into the air, and my brother would run like the wind. And the kite was supposed to take off. Of course, I would like to be the one running, but usually, I was designated to hold the kite. 

These days, though it is nice to see all sorts of creatures flying in the sky at places where kite aficionados like to go, I still prefer the old rice paper ones with bamboo frames -- with a nice long tail.

Wind catcher, anyone? I don't mind holding the kite :)

The long walk

Back in the 90s, when I first explored this stretch of the Ulu Pandan park connector (from Clementi towards Jurong), it was a narrow clayey, sandy lane with tall lallang on both sides. I remember walking endlessly in my Japanese slippers. It was afternoon and hot, hot, hot. But there was no return as I had proceeded quite far into the unknown. Must find out where it leads to. Surprise, surprise, it opened into Boon Lay Way or was it Boon Lay Road, can't really remember. So from there, I took a bus back. Luckily, I had some coins on me!

Long walks are not alien to me. I think it was primary 3? It was art and craft day and after the exhibition of our works in the morning, we had the afternoon off.  My friend suggested I should visit her home. So both holding our handicrafts (a wooden stool done by the boys with a seat cover decorated with cross stitches done by girls) we were off.

If I remember rightly, the sandy lane (Lorong something starting with G) branched off old Cheng San Road and ran parallel to Tavistock Avenue for a bit. Then it ran amok, winding through villages and wells. It took forever to reach her house somewhere in Sembawang (?). It was a wonder I could find my way home, with strength enough to carry that blessed stool.

One day, I shall go to the National Library and dig out an old street directory. I would really love to relive that walk. How did my friend walk such a distance every day to school in Serangoon Gardens? BTW, she was a skinny girl with a thick pony tail who suddenly out of the blue one day, vomited a huge round worm in class.

Hardy creatures we were.  

Huckleberry friend

Moon River has been my favourite song since childhood. I especially like this part: Waiting round the bend, my huckleberry friend...

It must be fantastic to have a "huckleberry" friend waiting round the bend for you. I visualise someone with a backpack waiting for you at an appointed place and time. And once you have arrived, the journey continues, with arms round each other's shoulders (silhouetted against a round, fat  moon).

I didn't manage to catch the 1961 movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" which featured Moon River as its theme song. It is a romantic comedy and has a happy ending, so I read. But the melody and the lyrics didn't sound that upbeat. In fact it sounds a little sad, to me. Somehow, it brought to mind, the story of a loyal dog waiting at the station for his master to return day after day... The master of course, could not, having died in the war.

Poor huckleberry friend. 

COVID-19 funnies: No. 3

 Me (masked): Shui jiao mian ta.

Hawker (masked): Ha?

Me: SHUI JIAO MIAN TA... dabao.

Hawker: Chilli?

Me: Ha?

Hawker: CHILLI?

Finally went home with my noodles. Opened packet and to my dismay, it was feng jiao mian (phoenix leg aka chicken leg noodles). Alamak.

COVID-19 funnies: No. 2

 One of the best jokes WhatsApped to me during lockdown last year:

Covid-19 funnies: No. 1

 I guess the funniest thing that happened to me during the pandemic was in 2020 - can't exactly remember when - but I think early part of the year. A time mostly filled with anxiety. I made myself a breakfast of chicken noodles (from a chicken dish leftover from the day before). Then I settled down to watch YouTube. Then I bit on a piece of tiny bone that broke a bridge. 

A few frantic calls to my dentist and I was finally on the dentist's chair.  There was a brief conversation that went:

Me: "Must take out mask, right?" 

Dentist: "I also wish you don't have to."

Cake fit only for kitchen god

Look at this sticky mess... I was trying to replicate the panfried nian gao (年 糕 or New Year cake) of childhood -- slices of nian gao dipped in beaten egg and fried.  But the nian gao sold these days are only meant for the kitchen god -- so awfully sticky and sweeeeeeeeeet.

It will definitely seal his mouth when he reports to the jade emperor of any misdoings of this household. His ascent from your stove to heaven is supposed to take place a week before the Chinese New Year -- according to Chinese beliefs of olden days. But it is definitely not for human consumption, not when health gurus are advocating zero sugar consumption. Whatever, it is way too sticky and sweet for my liking.

When we were kids, mum would fry nian gao on the first day of the Chinese New Year for our breakfast.  It was the highlight of the day. All members of the family would be wrapped in utter bliss till lunch, when more bliss followed as the bak-cham gai (Cantonese for poached chicken) literally flew from the kitchen to the table -- with whoever carrying the dish running at top speed.

The nian gao of those days wasn't at all sticky, as you can cleanly slice them into neat pieces. And they were not overly sweet. So what's with the modern day nian gao which was impossible to cut -- and eat? All I can say, in Cantonese, is: "Chay, deow jaw ker!" Which means "shucks, throw it away!"

The underground singer

She has been busking at the underground link from Isetan to Tang's -- for the longest time. But she doesn't seem to have aged a bit. Guess that's what passion does to one's face.

She does a great rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. That never fails to get me digging for my wallet. Not sympathy, but an appreciation for her talent. Wonder how Bird on a Wire would sound like -- through her voice. I have heard her doing Judy Collins' Both Sides Now too. Good.

Actually, there's another guy at the other corner of the undergound. He accompanies himself on the accordion. He's been there for the longest time too. He's not too bad.

But I prefer the lady on the other side :) No offence.

Come Christmas, I hope their suitcases get filled up -- with bucks of appreciation.

The postman

The postman was a very important person in my life -- when there would be letters replyig to job applications, exam result slips, exciting letters from friends overseas, sometimes even a parcel (!) -- compared to the mostly bills of today. Well, actually he or she is still an important person today but I can't place a face to any of them as I hardly bump into them.

In my childhood days, the postman would be dressed in khaki-coloured uniform, riding a red bicycle. He would crashed onto our gate (maybe his brake wasn't working too well, and there was a little slope from the road to the gate) and slot the letters into our letterbox. He would then ring his bell to alert us to collect the mail (as though the "crash" wasn't loud enough) before he back his bike out -- and crash into the next gate. Delivery was twice a day, around 11am and 4pm, if I remember rightly.

If there were registered mail, he would let himself in through the side gate and gave us a surprise by suddenly appearing at the window, peering in. Spotting one of us, he would grin and hand us the registered mail and a receipt to be signed. On hot days, mum would ask me to offer him a cold drink. He would thank us profusely, mopping his brows.

At times when there were no letters for us or for our neighbours, you could see him soaring down the road, probably enjoying the breeze in his face. I had never seen a woman postman though, in my childhood.

Nowadays, there are quite a few woman postmen. In fact, those whom I have seen at my block, inserting etters into boxes with much alacrity, were all women. And of course, they don't ride bicycles anymore.

Here's a song we learnt in primary school, in celebration of our hardworking postmen:

I like to be a postman
I wake up with the sun
And on my back
I'd carry my sack
And onwards
I would go

The cat who loves fresh laundry

I must rub my hair on all these nice, clean laundry....

The moment I dump the content of my laundry basket onto the bed after a trip from the washing machine, guess who will be lolling on them. Never fails to happen. Only clean laundry, mind you, not dirty ones before washing.