bike to the Jetty

 

There are some days when you just must go to the sea. You don't know why, you don't know what it will do for you, but you just go- if nothing more than for a change of environment.

 

That's how it was for me on this weekend afternoon when I took Daffy out for a quick spin. Her tyres needed a pump of air, so over to the gas station I first went, before heading down Joo Chiat Road, across Marine Parade Road, into the housing estate, and down the underpass across to East  Coast Park.

 

More often than not I choose to head towards the Bedok Jetty section. Not only is the route longer, there is more scenery, there are more trees, more ships, and the route is more lively. 

 

This particular afternoon the skies were blue, the winds were balmy, everyone along the shore was having a fun time, and so I decided I'd not continue with the ride after reaching Bedok Jetty. To do so would mean reaching the end of East Coast Park where the Tanah Merah Canal lies, and I didn't feel like going so far.

 

Today was a day that I wanted to space out. Today was a day that I wanted to look at the waters, to count the ships anchored in the horizon, to breathe and to be thankful for the presence of rolling waters and sea winds so wonderfully close to me.  

Selfie Shots

 

These pictures I took either last month, or the month before.

 

I don't remember- keeping track of my selfies is not something I usually do. Mine tend to be snapped at random moments, and at times when I feel like I need to. 

 

Those who know me will know that I tend to take selfies on days where I don't feel well, am tired, or don't feel pretty. To me, it isn't that huge an effort to doll up a little and capture the look, if only for a reminder that this mood will pass and I still can look beautiful and pretty regardless how I'm actually feeling.

 

There were many moments where there was a need in the last couple of months, but I just didn't feel like doing it... not until quite recently, and so, besides the middle picture of me in a camo tee and sunglasses, the other two were taken only a couple of weeks ago.

 

One picture has me completely barefaced with no trace of BB cream or concealer or even lip balm, and it is an anomaly, because although I usually will put something before I take the picture, for this one, I wanted to know how I actually looked like at that precise moment- I hadn't been looking at a mirror very much at that time. Suffice it to say that I'm glad I didn't look as sallow as I'd imagined myself to be!

 

Then the other picture was taken at the library. Yes, you don't see my face, nope, not at all, but that's the entire point of it. This selfie was to capture the sweatshirt, because it was one of those days that I was in a hoodie sweatshirt, and I knew I just had to take a selfie, for the simple reason that I don't get to wear this particular sweatshirt often. I want to- I dearly want to- but what with all the meetings etc etc that I have to go for... and with the humidity, it is a rare day that the shirt steps out the door- and so, selfie!

 

What's funny though is how my hair looks.

 

Somehow the lights in the library made the locks of my hair look as if they had highlights, when in fact, I've not done anything to it, no highlights, no colors, no nothing at all, and it is jet black the way it is naturally meant to be. 

a Room called Sunshine

 

Miss Brown knew exactly which doctor it was she was going to see the moment the ambulance trundled up the long driveway of the hospital. In all of her life in this country she had only stayed in three hospitals- the Maternity Hospital at Thomson Road, the General Hospital at Outram, and this hospital at Buangkok.

A stay at the hospital is no staycation- no one comes to the hospital unless they really have to- that is, they have no choice- and so it was for Miss Brown as well.

She honestly didn't know what she'd done that the doctor determined that she should have a stay here. Could it be that she hadn't felt like washing her hair or even taking a shower for days? Could it be that she just wanted to feel dirty and uncared for because nothing mattered anymore? Could it be that she just wanted to do something- anything- that would let her succeed in her goal to bring the girl back? And could it be that her caregivers had thwarted her attempt to disappear and instead decided that she was better off here?

She wasn't planning to run away- that was ridiculous- she was intending to run to the person who had promised to look after her and be by her side. It was not possible what others had told her- that the girl didn't want her anymore, and had never wanted her at all- she had to find out by herself.

But her caregivers had found the name cards of strangers in her bag, and they had found the chocolate she had taken from the freezer- and they seemed to know what it was she was planning to do.

So she ended up here.

It wasn't that bad a place as she had imagined.

The room was open. There was plenty of wind and sunshine coming through the open windows- they only shut them a little at night- and there were the sounds of nature coming in from the tiny little garden outside. Few people knew this but naturally planted grass and wild growing weeds do have a sound of their own- it only gets more pronounced when the winds come.

The beds were close to one another- she could see her neighbors on either side- but she had no belongings. They had taken her bag with the precious name cards away from her and handed it back to her caregivers. None of the others seemed to have their belongings with them either.

Here she couldn't wear her own clothes, but that didn't matter. She could slip easily into the shirt and shorts that they gave her. It was bright colored and pink anyway.

There were activities, but she didn't participate very much in them. She tried, doing one thing or another, but she got bored, simply because she didn't think she belonged to the same capacity as the others who were here. Some of them looked strange. Mild-mannered they were, yes, but they didn't look like the people she saw outside. But since they didn't bother her, she kept to herself and didn't care either. 

She preferred sitting out near the windows watching the others do their activities. Here she felt closer to the world outside and she had always liked grass and sun and plants. It got better when it rained. The place reminded her of Kelantan where she had once lived as a little girl a long, long time ago. 

Most of her days were spent doing the daily stuff- bathing, eating, going to the toilet, watching others, eating, sleeping.

On certain days some people came to talk to her. One came from the hospital and asked her a lot of questions, which she could only partially answer. Another asked her other questions out of which she now no longer remembers what they were. These people she saw them just once, or twice. They meant nothing to her. Then there was this lady from some place who came and spoke to her and sang some songs with her and prayed over her. But she too only came once.

The doctor, however, she remembered. Not the doctor who made the rounds- this doctor she didn't know and didn't care for- but the other doctor.

This was the same doctor she still came to see, and whom she knew she was going to see today. This doctor always spoke kindly to her, even if firmly, and gave her plenty of advice of what to do and what not to do and didn't let her caregivers overthink or worry too much. This was the doctor whom she'd first seen when she first came here. She had been a little harsh then, but she wasn't after. 

Miss Brown liked coming to this clinic to see this doctor.

There was Milo if she wanted.

There were bananas for the taking- her caregiver smuggled out one or two for sometimes.

And even though she didn't think so much of the room called Sunshine somewhere in the far reaches of this hospital, on the times when her caregivers wheeled her around to the canteen and asked her if she wanted a bite, she would see the corridors, the trees, the grass and the space.

And then the memory of the shuttered windows, the heavy rains, the smell of the grass after the rains, the cold winds and the music of the quietly whistling plants would come back to her. 

Children's Theatre

 

There's something about this place that brings me a sense of nostalgia. It's a feeling that leaves one quietly breathless in anticipation of a familiar sight, a visual memory. It is a feeling that envelops you at nearly every step you take, every corner you turn, and even if it may be somewhat vague, that energy, that vibration, it stirs your heart... and remains there.

Am I too dramatic?

I don't think so.

For you would feel the same too had this place been a part of your life five days a week, Mondays to Fridays, from morning till evening, and on Saturdays, from morning till the afternoon.

There're some memories that you don't forget.

Like how the sun slants through the leaves of the coconut tree on top of the hill as you make the walk up the (carpark) slope from Cairnhill Road to the Cairnhill Arts Centre.

Like how you start thinking of the work ahead even as you make the climb up the two flights of stairs to the top of the hill before heading to the office on the first floor.

And how there would always be random seats at the (unofficial) smoke area at the back of the building where everyone but the bosses would go for a smoke, a drink, or just to breathe in some urban hilly air.  

Yes, I worked here.

In a Children's Theatre company.

As a sales person aka telemarketer.

In what I would call one of my early jobs.

It wasn't a very long stint- a fairly short one, actually- but it was long enough for me to have a glimpse into the local theatrical scene, to understand the theories (somewhat) behind children's theatre, to grasp a little about the business of it, and to understand what it took to be a drama teacher.

It was a place that I got to value the importance of drama for children. 

It was also a place where  I realized my strengths, my weaknesses, and how sometimes even though you want to use a million and one ways to communicate with sales prospects, old-school cold-call works best with the friggin' phone.

For someone who is a natural introvert, it takes persistence and determination.

And a lot of discipline.

But that's the beauty of roles that you do. You figure out what works best for you and you grow. You accept who you are, you challenge your own status quo, and then you move on from there. Maybe it works for you, maybe it doesn't, but you just keep doing it and working on it until you get it right.

I sometimes think of the Schwan Stabilo pens that were in the stationery cupboard. I liked them- even though some of them didn't work at times and it was frustrating trying to jot down the dates and times when a successful call came in.

I sometimes wonder what happened to the files that I meticulously kept and if they were of use to the person who came after.

I wonder what happened to the dressing room at the back of the building where you could find all sorts of fabrics and sewing apparatus and where all the costumes and props (sometimes) were made. It was also where the technical team, the performance team and yes, the office team, would go and chill. The environment was casual, and you could yammer as much (and as loud) as you wanted without having to worry about the ringing phones and chuckling laughter drifting through the mouthpiece to the business caller on the other side. (Few external calls went to the dressing room.)

And then I wonder if the person who came after me did get a computer after all. 

The Company occupied- more or less- the entire first floor. There were practice rooms. There were teaching rooms. There was the Academy Office and the Company Office and then there was the dressing room. They too had a Black Box Theatre down the slope, and there was a lot of running up and down whenever there were performances. I didn't get to visit it much, save for maybe once or twice when they were running a festival, and one of the performances was in the theatre. (The Potato People, I think?)

My daily place, however, was in the Company office where I had a desk right in front of the boss- gasp- and where I literally worked the phone. 

And because there were lots of school shows, I ended up being very familiar with the work schedules of school teachers, whom I must say, lead very busy lives and very harried schedules. I left plenty of messages for the teachers, and I'm glad that more often that not, I got a call back. Because no matter what time I called, they were either in class, at recess, in class, at lunch, at meetings, not at their desk, or gone home.

I think it is still the same these days for teachers.

Some systems don't change.

Still, others do.

How the Company has been thus far I don't know- time passes and I haven't kept up with the scene as much as I wish to- but I'm sure it's there, I'm sure they're going on well, and perhaps one day I may drop in and say hi again.  

Kebabs with Love

 

This makes a colourful palette, does it not?

 

Undoubtedly the cuisines of the Middle East have to be one of the most colourful ones in the world. Yes, it is true, every country has their distinctive flavors, and thereby their distinctive palette, but it is difficult to ignore the fact that the foods of this region make for a cheerful (and naturally colored) sight on any plate.

 

It's all in the spices, I should say. 

 

But it could also well be that, other than pork, they do have plenty of meats in the form of beef, chicken, mutton, lamb and fish served alongside a boggling array of very colourful vegetables, root vegetables and greens, which then all add to the array of colors.

 

Why, even their soup- their lentil soup- seen here with a heart shaped drawn upon its surface, is a bright, lively looking saffron orange!

 

We were at this place in the Arab Street enclave on what I think must have been Valentine's Day. It was a late hour by the time we got there, and although I wouldn't have minded what we ate- Persian, Lebanese, Moroccan  or Turkish- I was hungry- this was the place we finally settled upon..

 

It didn't take us long to peruse the menu- we knew what we wanted- and so we ordered a bowl of lentil soup to share, and a platter of kebabs that had lamb, chicken and fish.

 

If there's one thing about eating kebabs, it is that the meal encourages cordial conversation, generates lots of laughter and grants you a game of "Guess the Food". 

 

Because the fish doesn't look like fish, the chicken doesn't look like chicken, and the lamb doesn't look like lamb. There're no chunks of fish in front of you that you can easily tell, nor is there a piece of chicken leg or chicken breast, and there's nothing that looks like lamb either.

 

You just have to eat whatever and figure out what it is you are eating.

 

Or you can ask the waiter.

 

But we decided not to, so what we did was to cut off the tip of each kebab and try to taste which was which. The darkest looking one was lamb- that wasn't hard- but we spent some time trying to determine if the yellow looking one was fish, or chicken.

 

I said fish.  "Fish is lighter colored than chicken! You see the meat inside? It's whiter!"

 

My dining companion said chicken. "No lah. This other one is orange and they always do fish kebabs until this color! Remember (this place) where we had fish kebabs and they were all orange?"

 

So we sliced off some more, tasted some more, rolled it around our tongues for the texture, and finally figured it out.

 

Turns out my dining companion was right.

 

The yellow colored one was chicken.

 

The saffron colored one was fish.

 

Now we know.

 

The meats went well with the sauce, which, by the way, is not Thousand Island salad cream but rather, a modified sort of Thousand Island mixed with a bit of spice and a little something else, but it tasted good, and we liked it so much we asked for more.

 

All in all, I loved the experience. There's something charming about having a bowl of lentil soup in the cool of the day, a very solid meal of three different kinds of meats that you can have a tasting game with, refresh yourself with lots of cool lettuce , green peppers and tomatoes thereafter, whilst soaking in the cultural vibes of the area as you lounge against bright silky cushions on a surprisingly comfortable wooden bench, amidst the distinctive sapphire blue décor of the cafe.

round and round Mountbatten

Headed out for a bike ride the other night, and because it was night, and I was alone- on the roads- I decided that I didn't want to travel very far, so I decided to explore a route that I'd always had been curious about, but hadn't done before. 

From the east side I headed up Dunman Road, passed Haig Road and Tanjong Katong Road, then turned into this road that I (now) know to be Crescent Road. Straight ahead I went, cycling past lovely terrace houses and large bungalows, before turning right into Goodman Road.

It was Goodman Road that I particularly wanted to cycle on. Because it is an interesting road this side of town that begins from Tanjong Katong Road and ends at Mountbatten Road. Along the way there are pretty bungalows (some dark, some lit up this time of day), there is Chung Cheng High School in the middle, and then Goodman Arts Centre at the end where it connects to Mountbatten.

At the entrance of Chung  Cheng High School that I braked.

Just to gape upon the stone arch guarding the entrance of the school with her name carved upon it in Chinese calligraphic style.

I didn't take pictures, and neither did I hang around long. No one wants to answer questions from the school jaga at that hour of night.
So I continued on Goodman Road and turned into Arthur Road. From there I found myself at the junction of Mountbatten, but there was a small gap right in front of me, so through it I zipped across to the other side of Arthur Road, then went straight all the way until I turned onto Meyer Road.

It was here I got (sort of) lost.

Because I didn't have my phone, I didn't know where exactly on Meyer Road I was. The only thing I was certain was that I could go back the way I came from, so I made a left, then made another left and turned back into Broadrick Road.  

Finding myself back on Mountbatten, I turned left towards the public housing estate of Jalan Batu. Here I knew- it had been a frequent route we used to take to get to the Marina Barrage- so I followed the road. But tonight, instead of turning into the carpark that would lead me to the river which would eventually see me at Kallang Stadium, I followed the road that led me past Performance Motors and then into Kampong Arang Road, which I hadn't travelled before and had no idea where it ended but there was nothing for it, so along I went, going past the back of Dunman High School, and then finally out to Tanjong Rhu.

I knew it was Tanjong Rhu because the Singapore Swimming Club was on my right.

With a rough sense of direction, I kept on Tanjong Rhu. Where it would lead me I really didn't know but I convinced myself that I was at least heading in the right direction.

Guess what, I ended up crossing Fort Road (of which in the dark of night I had absolutely no clue) and hey, I was back onto Meyer Road- again.

Meyer Road is also another interesting road this part of town, and one day I think I'm just going to do a daytime ride of both roads for the fun of it. If you think Goodman Road has some history, Meyer Road has a wee bit more. The holiday bungalow that once belonged to the Manasseh Meyer family is somewhere there, I'm sure, but I didn't stop to look around. 

One thing though, I hadn't realized that Meyer Road was sooo long. I mean, I'd always thought of it as a short road, but no, it was remarkably long- so much so that I began to wonder if I'd crossed another (unknown) road and was heading to goodness knows where, but the sign PP was not in sight, so I kept on anyway. The road felt a little winding too. It's not a straight road. I guess the land reclamation that took place all those years ago was somewhere around here.

Meyer Road turns out onto the junction where it connects to Tanjong Katong Road South, so up I went, zipping past a bus stop, and finding myself at the junction of Katong Shopping Centre.

From there I got my bearings (thank God!) and headed back to my original starting point.

the Lotus Thai

It is no secret, I should say, that I am a fan of Thai street food. Whether it is the herbs, the soups, the rice noodles, the pineapple fried rice, the massaman curry or just about anything within the realms of chicken, pork, fish, seafood and beef, I am fine.

This place, located at Jalan Besar, has quickly become one of my favorite places for Thai street food. It sits at the corner of a shophouse somewhere between Veerasamy Road and Kitchener Road and directly opposite from Jalan Berseh Food Centre.

The menu here is quite extensive.

You have the larger offerings of whole steamed fish, meats, vegetables, curries and seafood, and you have the staples of rice, noodles, appetizers and desserts, and although I can say that everything looks good, I'll have to say that I haven't tried most of their offerings (yet). Maybe because I prefer to stick to the favorites at each place I go to, and thus far it has been Green Curry Beef, Tom Yum Soup and the omelette.

There's a certain sweetness to their dishes, and where elsewhere one might consider it an attempt to overwhelm the palate, here it wraps around your tongue well and complements the dish overall.

I like the alternative of beef with green curry. The places I frequent tend to offer chicken as the only choice of meat for this dish, so to have tender, well-boiled, almost shabu shabu like slices of beef swimming in the curry is lovely. And the curry is thick, which I love, for it goes well like a soup on its own (yes I drink the gravy- I don't care) and mixes perfectly well with their fluffy steamed rice.

When we do order the tom yum soup and the green curry together, the chicken pieces from the soup make their way across the table to the green curry bowl and that's how we double up and get to have green curry beef and chicken in a single go. 

We choose prawn as the filling for the omelette most of the time (coz we've already got been and chicken), and here they've got mid-sized prawns cocooned in a just-right portion of tasty, fluffy, pan fried beaten egg.

But besides these orders, maybe one day I should shake the pattern a bit and opt for a few appetizers to share and maybe substitute the main meal with desserts sometime. They've got mango sticky rice, chendol, the red ruby with coconut milk thing, and I think in the menu there's also tapioca with coconut cream.

I'd go for the mango sticky rice- after all, what with a portion of glutinous rice, juicy mango and coconut cream, I think it makes almost a full (vegetarian/vegan) meal too!

Holiday Inn Express @ Jln Besar

 

A deliberate choice it was that I should come at this newly opened hotel under the Holiday Inn Express brand of the IHG Group- simply because I had visited this property before it was an Express, and now I dearly wanted to see how the transformation was. 

 

I say 'transformation' because this property had, at one time, whilst under the management of another hotel brand, been functional at best, but outdated, heavy and aesthetically poor at worst. It was a place that you could shower and crash, but it wasn't necessarily a place which you would want to.

 

Holiday Inn Express changed all that.

 

No more did the lobby/dining area have old, heavy wooden tables with scratches on its surface, chunky carved hard-seated chairs made out of dark wood and dull, heavy furnishings on the walls. Now the place looked modern, bright, welcoming and comfortable. The wall décor was bright, the light fixtures were neat, and the furniture was now colourful, easy, and minimalist.

 

And of course, no where was the change more distinct than the rooms themselves.

 

The floor area is large, yes, but where once by the window there stood a dark wood dressing table with elaborate carved legs, an old fashioned mirror mounted on the wall, and a heavy, impossible-to-pull-out chair, now there was a desk with the very, very important electrical power points above.

 

No more was there just a plain hard mattress with thin linen, half flat pillows and a thin blanket, now the bed was (I think) higher, with a thicker mattress, two types of pillows soft and firm, and the fold-down bedspread that doubled as the blanket. Above your head now was a blue patterned design instead of faded white wall paint.

 

There were hangers on the open-concept wardrobe, and although you might think is not so big a deal, but hey, there didn't even use to be hangers at all.

 

Of course, the largest transformation (and what I really wanted to see) was the bathroom. The bathroom used to be this plain, ugly place with (clinical) white tiles on the walls, white fluorescent lighting and large blue tiles on the floor. It was built with a single washbasin, a turn tap, and absolutely no where to put the mug or the toothbrush. The shower area was, well, functional at best, with a large, old-school, rough-looking shower head that was screwed to the ceiling, sprayed harsh, needle-like jets everywhere and which took twenty minutes for the water to heat up.

 

I was so glad to see that the cold, blue, harsh, almost prison-like atmosphere was gone, replaced instead with warm lights, patterned tiles on the wall, a small, square shaped washbasin with a little bit of space at the side for the handtowels and toothbrushes, and best of all, shower heads that released powerful, but comfortable streams of water. 

 

But one does not come to this property and stay all day in the room (unless you so wish) for the reason that it sits snugly in the middle of everything.

 

To begin with, Jalan Besar is one of the most interesting neighborhoods on the outskirts of town. It is a place that mixes a bit of heritage, a bit of sport, industrial feels (I found a marine industry company here once), industrial-chic vibes, and down-to-earth (read: uncle aunty type) coffee shops that stand in proud contrast with hipster cafes.

 

Just to grasp a feel of the location, directly behind this property is Tyrwhitt Road, which some might recognize as the place for good coffee, waffles and smoked salmon croissants at Chye Seng Huat, and maybe the Broadway coffee shop. Antoinette (yah, that Antoinette at Mandarin Gallery) also has a spot somewhere around here. And then further on is the Jalan Besar Stadium and Lavender, beyond which leads you to North Bridge Road and Beach Road.

 

In front of the property, however, down Jalan Besar will head you towards Downtown, the city center, Orchard, Clarke Quay, Boat Quay and Chinatown.

 

And across the road, a five minute walk will land you in the vicinity of City Square Mall- for the retail joys of Decathlon, Daiso and Don Don Donki, Mustafa Shopping Center (no need to explain) and of course, the Farrer Park stretch of Little India.

She called Her By Name

She had an appointment at the hospital today.

Not the same hospital that she'd gone to weeks ago, but another one- one that she was more familiar with and still remembered.

Today the doctor examined her limbs, pushed a bit on the joints, spoke to her, asked her questions, spoke to her caregivers, told her that the next time they met would be after the Lunar New Year next year, and then prescribed her bottles of lactulose (just in case...)

Miss Brown didn't care how many bottles they prescribed her. The quantity didn't matter. What mattered was that she was here- in the Clinic- in an environment that seemed vaguely familiar, and yet one that didn't completely fade from memory.

How to??
 This was where she had memories both pleasant and unpleasant. This was where they first taught her to climb up stairs and climb down stairs right after her stroke. This was also where they taught her to regain some strength in her left arm by playing some computer game. And this was where she used to sit and do her arm and leg exercises with her dedicated therapist whilst other patients hovered about doing different exercises with their own dedicated therapists.

They remembered her- the therapists.

Well, at least one- the lady- whom she had once thought was rather fierce but soon realized that she was merely firm. This lady came over, plonked herself down on the sofa n front of her, and greeted her BY NAME. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. She didn't think she mattered that much to the therapists here.

Apparently she did, and even though she didn't call out her name or smile or say hi (she couldn't recall her name, actually), when the therapist wore her glasses and pulled up her hair in a ponytail, she recognized her too- and acknowledged it with a subtle nod.

It was encouraging- it really was- that even though there might have been people in this world who threw away their own mothers- there were others who didn't throw away those whom they interacted with- even for a very short time.

It made her wonder if she should take a look at the gym again.

So when her caregiver asked her if she wanted to take a quick look, she agreed.

They didn't go in- the place was empty and there was no one inside, but although she couldn't quite remember how exactly it used to look like, one look at the rugged practice floor, the practice couch, the equipment, and those mornings that she spent here all came rushing back to her.