I had a little bit of a challenge finding my way to this hotel.
See, the Hilton Garden Inn sits right in the center of Little India, and Little India is made up of little streets, little lanes, and all kinds of roads big and small.
And so, whilst directions on the website instructed me to take Exit E from the Little India station and walk all along the shop houses on the same side until I got to Belilios Road, Google Maps, however, directed me to take the walking route on the other side- which was Race Course Road.
I didn't know which route to take, but the Xennial in me put my trust in Google, so along Race Course Road I went. Halfway down, however, I realized that the Maps didn't show me where the turn of Belilios Road exactly was, so I did what any practical first-time visitor would do.
Looked up the picture of the hotel with my phone and continued on my merry way, with one eye on the phone, and the other in the sky.
Turned out, of course, that this hotel really wasn't that difficult to find.
I reached there just after two, did a quick check-in at their bright, spacious, sunny lobby, then popped upstairs to my room. The Hilton efficiency, demonstrated over their neat check-in counters was strangely delightful. There was no need for lengthy explanations, nor was there a need for long-winded directions.
This was a property devoid of gleaming floors, heavy furniture, imposing check-in counters, and even the gift shop.
In place of the gift shop instead was a pantry stocked with reasonably priced potato chips, cup noodles, chocolates, beer, ice cream, soft drinks, cornflakes, and cereal bars.
My room was on one of the lower floors.
Bright, sunny and cheerful, the space held the usual amenities of open wardrobe, hot water kettle, fridge, bedroom slippers, coffee and tea. There was a television mounted onto the wall. Below it was a small orange desk in the shape of a quadrant and a full sized office chair.
There was no armchair- the room had no space- but there was one of those window seat things running along the window affixed to the wall.
That seat granted me an interesting view.
From where I was, I could see the shop houses of Serangoon Road, the flats of Tekka Market, the flats of Selegie, Selegie House, and in the distance, the skyscrapers of South Beach, Suntec City and MBFC
I could also look straight down into the backyard of the Sri Veeramakaliamman Temple right next door.
Can I say that I considered the opportunity of such a view a privilege?
See, I have never stepped through the doors of a Hindu Temple, much less ventured into the back of one, and yet, here I was, three floors (or so) up looking right down into their backyard.
What would I see?
Perhaps someone would come through the door and sit on the bench with a cup of tea.
Perhaps someone, a child, maybe, dressed in his or her Temple best, would take a restless gander into the backyard and try to overturn the flower pots for a curious peek.
Neither of that happened. I sat for a good long while by the window, but the backyard remained empty all afternoon.
Still, one does not come to the enclave of Little India and stay cooped up in the room all day.
And so, as evening came, and as her skies turned a twilight grey, I went out, heading for the neighborhoods of Buffalo Road, Kerbau Road and Race Course Road.
Now, Little India is never not busy, but come the weekend, and she gets busier still. The streets were packed with cars coming in one after another, the lanes were occupied with bicycles whizzing in all directions, and the pavements were filled with people just milling about..
There were locals here for a bout of weekend shopping. There were foreign workers speaking animatedly into their mobile phones. And there were tourists armed with cameras, backpacks, maps and huge bottles of water.
I was two out of three.
Not only did I get intrigued by the shops that were in fact found in any regular housing board neighbourhood, I was also stopping to take pictures of anything cultural that caught my eye.
It is amazing how one gets to see things one usually doesn't see until one slows down and looks around.
At another time I would not have noticed the reflection of several trees on the glass window façade beside. Neither would I have stopped to admire the nostalgic old-school charm of biscuit tins on a shelf in the five foot way outside a provision store.
There was so much to see that I didn't get to see everything.
And so, next day, after a hearty buffet breakfast of mifen-mian fried kuay teow, pancakes, scrambled eggs, coffee, watermelon fruit and juice, I went out again.
This time I didn't linger downstairs.
I went straight to Buffalo Road for the textile and jewelry stores that a friend had introduced to me once before. I went up the second floor of Tekka Market to window-shop for palazzo pants, and I went across the road for colourful bangles, dangly earrings, flea market basket bags, cheap funky sunglasses and beautiful handsewn patchwork bags.
I'm afraid I didn't buy any of the pretty stuff.
But I liked the funky sunglasses so much I got myself a pair.