All The Food From Soi47

My favorite go-to Thai restaurant Soi 47 has closed down.

Literally.

Gone.

All around the island. 

No more. 

Am I devastated?

No.

Am I quietly sad, quietly disappointed? 

Yes. 

Soi 47 has had a very special presence in my life since the first time I had her food at Temple Street. I don't know how it is we found the restaurant right near the corner of Temple Street and South Bridge Road, but she offered a wide selection of favorite Thai street food at gorgeous downtown prices, and the food was authentically good.

So lovely this restaurant was for us that we patronized them a good long while, relishing in their green curry beef, green curry chicken, fried spring rolls, Pad Thai, and their variety of soups, including the spicy tom yum and the spicy but mellower coconut milk cream soup tom kha. 

It was a joy to eat there during the season of Chinese New Year

Which year, in particular, now I can't quite remember, but I think it were the Year of the Ox because I had bought a most adorable stuffed toy ox from one of the bazaar stalls nearby and brought it to lunch with me. 

What's funny is that I might not remember the year, but I certainly do remember us having- on account of the occasion- a bowl of their fish maw soup, and a platter of their steamed fish in soy sauce. 

When the outlet at Temple Street closed down, we began frequenting the outlet at Clarke Quay. There too are memories that I have with this particular outlet here. Many a time it has just been between my friend and I, but I have, too, met up with others at this one outlet, where, if I'm not wrong, we ordered a steamed fish, a plate of fried chicken, spring rolls, a plate of vegetables, and some other dishes that I now cannot remember. 

Between my friend and I, much of our meals centered around the omelets (fried Thai style), the fried chicken skin, the roast pork, and the Pad Thai. 

I can't find a picture of the Pad Thai even though I'm pretty sure I must have taken one. 

It wasn't just the Clarke Quay outlet we went to.

There was the Soi 47 at Orchard Central, a very sunny airconditioned place on one of the upper floors and where I think we have had lots of Moo Ping, green curry beef, tom kha, and other dishes. 

Think this was the first place I had Pad See Ew, or what they call as Beef Kuay Teow Fried.  

I haven't forgotten the delight I felt the first time I had it.

Was it the texture of the noodle? 

Was it the taste, or the way it was fried?

I can't remember now. 

But Pad See Ew remains one of my favorite dishes, and I try to have it whenever I can, whether here, or in Thailand. 

Perhaps what makes Soi 47 isn't merely the meals that we have had there, but also the memories that come associated with it. 

My friend's father said their noodles (I think it were Pad Thai, or maybe Pad See Ew) were one of the best he'd ever had. My friend had bought them from the outlet at St. George's, near Lavender. His father liked them so much that he texted his son to bring back the same noodles when he next came to visit at the nursing home. Sadly, only just a day before visiting day, my friend's father died. The old man never got to eat again the beef fried kuay teow that he'd tried for the first time, and said he liked. 

If it were already, as it was, sad, there are, thankfully, happier moments that come along with extended memories. 

An elderly lady I know stays at a nursing home in Toa Payoh. What's interesting is that- out of all the gorgeous locations they could have had in the Toa Payoh estate- Soi 47 would choose to be at a block just a short 3 minute walk away on Lorong 6.

So that's where a good number of weekend meals went. 

I'm pretty sure over here altogether I had at least a plate of Pad See Ew, a plate of Pad Thai, several bowls of green curry beef, tom yum soup, tom kha soup, lots of Moo Ping, a few plates of pandan chicken, several plates of fried spring rolls, a few platters of steamed fish, and, yes, I won't be forgetting the bowl of Red Ruby dessert that the staff offered us one time- in exchange of a Google review. 

A little pensive here, but I will miss the presence of Soi47. 

It don't matter whether she transforms as another brand. 

It is the name of Soi47 that holds importance to me.

So many memories. 

Sad that she won't be around anymore, but hey, Soi47, whatever s*** it might have been keeping things as they were, thanks for the time, thanks for the memories, thanks for the food. 

You kept the presence of Thailand close to my heart during the very long season when I wasn't yet able to visit there. 

A Block at Toa Payoh

Hardly is it, I tell you, that I get writers' block whilst trying to write something about a housing estate. 

Yet here I am, on this day, with two deleted posts, now trying to make a third attempt to write a new one whilst nursing a brain fog that for such and such a topic I have never, not once, had before.

Truth be told, I have no idea how this post should go on.

How do I begin? 

What do I start writing about?

Should I begin with the gorgeous, and surprising view from the upper floors of the block?

Should I begin with the void deck and the community space on the ground floor of the block? 

What do I do?

Maybe in recent days I haven't dropped into as many blocks as I should, but, really, what can be so hard? 

Basics of basics, this is a housing block on a street called Lorong 6 in a mature residential town of Singapore called Toa Payoh. 

For those who don't know Toa Payoh, well, she's a residential estate in the Northern part of the Central region of the country. 

What makes this estate significant is that she holds the title of being Singapore's second oldest satellite town, and Singapore's first to be built under the (then) (newly set up) Housing and Development Board. 

Not just that, she also holds the title of being an estate visited by dignitaries, important Persons of State, and Royalty. 

Queen Elizabeth II visited Toa Payoh twice- once in 1972, once again in 2006.

So this is a block along Toa Payoh Lorong 6.

What makes this block so unique?

I don't know. 

But that don't mean she's cookie cutter.

That also don't mean that there's nothing special about her. 

Nope, every block in every housing estate is unique. 

Not merely because of their aesthetics or the color of their external walls, but because of the life, the living, and the stories they hold inside. 

When it comes to HDB flats, there's so much to be told.

Whether it be behind each door, whether it be at the void decks or the community spaces or the shops, or even, along the corridors. 

It doesn't matter whether it be a clean, empty corridor devoid of belongings, or if it be a corridor with shoes and umbrellas and shelves and small cupboards or other paraphernalia, it's a story.

There're some corridors that have lots and lots of stuff all tossed and turned in such a way that you know they've been used not too long before. 

However there're also some corridors that have lots and lots of stuff neatly stacked, neatly placed, and you won't know if the owner has just used them, or used them some time before. 

I was, admittedly a little intrigued by the corridors I had the opportunity to see on this afternoon. 

I had thought, like many other a HDB, that there would be semblances of living here and there along the corridors. 

But no, some corridors here were almost empty, even, clean. 

I was a little surprised. 

But once I got past that, I loved how the late afternoon shadows fell so symmetrically on the concrete floor of the block, I loved how the light, filtered through the leaves of the trees, lighting up the neat, sturdy-looking corridor with its bright, calming glow, and I loved how personal, how intimate it made the corridor feel.

For once it didn't feel like the concrete of the corridor was glaring at me. 

The corridors of this block offered me a variety of views. 

If the view outside this particular floor had been gently filtered by the presence of trees right outside the walled concrete, other corridors gave me contrasting, even polarizing views. 

So disparate were they that you wouldn't think they were of the same block facing the same side. 

No (publicly planted) trees there to block out the light and filter the view out the corridor parapet here. 

No horticulture (municipal) plants too, to double up as a natural barrier between the light outside, the light inside, or enhance the scenery with a tinge of green. 

From the highest floors one looked out across the road of Lorong 6 into the blocks- and hawker center- of Lorong 7, more blocks on the other side of Lorong 7, then those of Lorong 8 behind, with a glimpse of Lorong Chuan and maybe even the tiniest sight of Serangoon estate in the distance beyond. 

Such height also meant you got a glimpse of the schools, including Pei Chun Public School and Madrasah Al-Arabiah Al Islamiah side by side.

The view of them blocks on Lorong 7 and 8 were the northeast side. 

But there was the northwest side too, where the closest, nearest landmark was that of the nursing home with its logo gazing across at you. It wasn't very overwhelming, I'd say, because there were also view of the blocks close by, and, if I'm not wrong, slightly further, those of Lorong 4.

If from the highest floors the corridor view was unblocked, the view on the lower floors was specially, deliberately, beautifully filtered. 

Not with chunky metal add-ons that sometimes detract rather than enhance, but with plants- all of which made me think a little of camouflage. 

At first glance one might wonder if it were a bit messy, but then the sunlight broke through, and all of a sudden I saw the shadows on the tiled floor, and I felt the immersion in a sort of garden suspended nine storeys in the air where the flowers glowed and the leaves shone.

It weren't just the plants that caught my eye.

It were how aesthetically they had all been arranged.

Someone had placed very careful thought into this garden. 

And the same someone had also put plenty of effort into making sure the plants were all prettily pruned and taken care of.

I don't think I'd ever seen such a gorgeous garden on a staircase landing before.

In any case, this block here at Toa Payoh might seem non-descript like any other block in any other random housing estate, but she does have features that make her distinctly her own.

Like the lift landing.

Which, I have to say, was one of the largest lift landings I had ever seen.

It would have been lovely had I been able to take more pictures but there seemed to be a lot of people going up and down the lift that afternoon and I didn't want to get seen with Chonkycam in hand.

Not so good lar.

So all I have are these.

It's not obvious, but you can tell that these aren't the smallest lift landings at HDB blocks in the country. 

So large are they that I think they're literally gathering points for the residents on those floors. 

As in, you can almost see a child's birthday party taking place, balloons, all, or even a catering set-up being arranged there. There's more than enough space for all them trays of food, plus the drinks corner, plus the dessert corner, plus the random tables and stools and chairs. There's enough space even for games. 

Yes, I might be overstepping here but hey, who knows, maybe at one time that's what this landing might have intended to be. 

Sometimes it makes one wonder what the 'hood was like back when this block was still new, when the water tank with its signature design was still new.

Was it the same as it were today? 

Seeing the block right now, it is a little hard to tell, and I don't want to read too much either.

What's important is what's there right now, who's there right now, and how important the home means to them. 

This afternoon I didn't wander very much around the entire block- I decided not to- so went back down to the ground floor where there is a sheltered walkway, a very well paved outdoor path, and a sort of small community garden with pots and plants that I know not what, but was being taken care of by an elderly man who was diligently watering them with a watering can.

Shopping @ Velocity

It is very, very seldom that I take pictures when I'm in Novena's Velocity. 

Not because there's nothing to shop, nothing to look at, or nothing worthy to see, but because my hands are normally occupied pushing the wheelchair of an elderly lady heading for a late breakfast or an early lunch, and god forbid I stop the chair midway to snap a picture of the shops or booths in the shopping mall. 

But someone had taken over the chair this afternoon.

And so there're these. 

It is a rare time that I get a chance to really look at the booths, and can I say it was a very pleasant surprise? 

I had thought, that what with Velocity being literally next door to the public hospital, the booths would have stuff like health supplements, holistic healthcare treatments, health related services, hand-held self care equipment- the kind so favored by the elderly, or even orthopedic shoes, insurance sales and so on. 

But one thing i had forgotten.

Outpatients making their way out of the hospital clinics to the shopping mall for lunch or to the MRT downstairs don't want more health related stuff shoved in their face the moment they step through the doors. 

On the other hand, what they need is something to make this d*** hospital trip worthwhile. 

What they need is something to cheer themselves up with, that (after forking out precious money for medication- after subsidy) they can buy and look forward to have, either right away, or when they get back home.

So, no tins of oats or probiotics or goat milk or fish oil or any kind of supplements there were on the makeshift shelves of these booths.  

Instead there were chilled fruit juice drinks, and there were these small little bites ranging from muffins to Nyonya kuehs to round pandan chiffon cakes all neatly arranged on display. 

The muffins weren't from a random non-descript brand. 

They were from well known muffin stall SL Muffins, which, although have been popping up here and there in shopping malls, has their main stall at Hong Lim Complex Hawker Center, and which, during lunch time in particular, sees long queues from office workers who buy them back to the office for afternoon tea, or boxes, for meeting boosts. 

I'm not sure what flavors they have, but those here included (I think) chocolate, chocolate chip, banana, blueberry, and a host of other flavors that are just as appetizing and good.

I was intrigued by the cakes and the kueh on display. 

So many varieties, all so colorful! 

What they were, exactly, I'm afraid it has been a long time now and I don't quite remember, but definitely amongst the chiffon cakes there was pandan, and if I'm not wrong, possibly coffee, and orange too. 

So round and soft and appetizing they seemed that I might just have bought one. 

I like the skin of the cake.

The kuehs were just as lovely too.

You'd think they'd have just the nine-layer rice cake in the red theme, but no, they had blues and greens too. They might be same flavor as the red ones, but it might also be that the blues were of butterfly pea and the greens from pandan. 

Very colorful when placed on the dining table, if you ask me! 

What's lovely about the chiffon cakes and kuehs is just how senior-friendly they were. There's hardly an elderly who will say no to chiffon cake right after visiting the doctor. There's also hardly an elderly who will refuse traditional glutinous rice kuehs when making a doctor's visit at the hospital. 

It's a youngish feeling.

One that makes them feel like their years and time are worth living too. 

The surprise for me, however, was the presence of savory snacks, and dim sum.

Deep fried.

Now I wouldn't be surprised if there had been hot steamed paus for sale- always for a good snack they make- but here there were what looked like fried char siew puffs (char siew sous), chewy sesame balls with sweet sesame filling inside, some sort of little pies, then, I think, deep fried prawn puffs, and finally, those traditional savory baked piahs that have either salted mung bean, sweet mung bean, red bean or other fillings inside. 

Pretty on the dining table they would be too, I say, and perfect for just about anyone- caregiver included- to buy, munch, or keep, and bring back home. 

Zichar @ Toa Payoh Lorong 7

We've begun eating at KKP, Kim Keat Palm, or Toa Payoh Lorong 7 (as I like to call it) a bit more often these days. 

I'm glad for it. 

Especially since for a while now I had been wondering just what it was about this place that made people miss it, and what it was that remained in their memories there.

It's like there was something about this place that kept people coming back, never mind that they had moved away from the 'hood to another place elsewhere.

Whether it was a dude who wanted to go there at 1am just to drink a bout of beer, whether it was another dude who got all nostalgic at the thought of having fishball noodles in the hawker there, the excitement in their voices was unmistakable. 

And it made me curious. 

But life be such that I didn't have much of a time to make a deliberate foodie trip there, and it wasn't until this time of life, when, thankfully, I have reason to come this zone on a regular basis through the weekly visits to Miss Brown, whom, let me say, I am so glad. 

Mind, it's not merely because I now get to try the food of Toa Payoh Lorong 7 market, but because Miss Brown herself has become more alert, more responsive, and, most importantly, increased her appetite and put on weight. 

Maybe it is the atmosphere.

I don't know.

But the food here is good.

Several weeks ago we were at one of the coffee shops- the one nearest the road- and decided to have zichar. The place was crowded- there were people at the tables, there were people in the queue, and the phone kept ringing with new phone-in orders even as we queued up to order our food. 

A part of me had wanted noodles. 

So that's what we got. 

And because the rest of the dishes also seemed rather good, we got ourselves another plate of la zi ji, or mala (fried) chicken Sichuan style. 

I was delighted by the Fried Hor Fun Seafood.

Not very sure if it were beef or seafood, actually- I have forgotten- but the hor fun was thick, the whole dish was very well fried, and even though it didn't seem to have as much wok hei as I thought it might have had, the balanced flavors made up for it, and I liked that it wasn't too salty. 

Might have been better had it been less oily, though, if I may say, the addition of shredded cabbage and leeks on top of the hor fun eased a bit of the feels, and it is probably just my personal preference anyway. 

The surprise lay in the la zi ji.

I had expected the chicken pieces to be very small and the dish to be very oily.

But, nope, it was neither.

Yes, bite sized they were, but each piece wasn't as tiny as I thought it might be, and easy it was to pick up with chopsticks. Plus, there was enough for the chew, and best of all, the chicken pieces weren't dry or hard. 

I tend to be a little cautious when it comes to this dish.

Some places make it super oily so much so that you can see the glint and taste the oil in the chicken.

Others put more of the pepper than the chicken so that you get the spice but you don't get as much chicken as you want to. 

Always a bit of hit and miss.

But this one- it was as if they had stirred the pieces in some oil deep frying it with dry wok heat so much so that whilst each small chonk of a piece got crisp on the outside, it remained soft and tender on the inside. 

You know what's the best part?

For someone who doesn't take spice very well, I actually enjoyed eating this.

I thought it more worth than the hor fun, really. 

Great fun it was for me to search through the heap of dried red peppers with my chopsticks and pick out the cute little chonks of chicken. 

And no sooner had I popped one inside my mouth that my chopsticks got busy searching for another.

Between the hor fun and the la zi ji, we finished dinner rather quick this way. 

But I didn't leave the veggies at there.

I ate the shredded cabbage, and I chomped through the leeks too. 

Hey, they helped ease the numb of mala, and made me feel like I was eating healthier with at least some greens. 

CNY Dinner @ Beng Hiang

It was with a sense of nostalgia that we came back here this evening for a dinner.

We had, after all, been to their place at Amoy Street years and years before. 

How the place has changed, whether or not even if the place has changed, I won't know- my memories of them back there on the outskirts of Chinatown are somewhat vague- but what with Beng Hiang being one of the (more) traditional restaurants serving up authentic Hokkien Chinese food, my guess is it wouldn't have changed much. 

We were here for some of the foods which we used to have.

So on the table this evening there were two kinds of soup, a huge dish of braised duck, a dish of pork belly with buns, and hei zhor prawn rolls. 

It's a little interesting but out of all these dishes- besides the sweet corn soup and the fish maw soup- it is the hei zhor that I recollect the most. 

In English they call it the Spiced Sausage and Fried Prawn Ball. 

Maybe because there aren't many places where they do this good, so any place that does it to their standards, well, I like. 

For someone it might be the crisp of the deep fried bean curd wrap that speaks to them.

For me, it is the filling that does it for me. 

Prawns, minced meat, Chinese parsley, water chestnut marinated with Five Spice Powder, everything's wrapped inside the bean curd skin, deep fried, then cut into bite sized rolls easy to pick up with chopsticks. 

The faintly fresh taste of the water chestnut and its distinctive crunch, is what makes it special, and then there's the tiny little roll from the pieces of prawn mixed with the bits of minced meat. 

But if it be the hei zhor that I like, it is the signature dish of 

Yet, even as the deep fried hei zhor is what I remember, it is the signature dish of Braised Duck with Sea Cucumber that Beng Hiang does very well.

I wish I could tell you exactly what it is that makes this dish so unique and so good. 

But other than saying that the meat's so tender it (literally) falls off the bone, I don't know what else. 

Maybe it were the sea cucumbers.

Maybe it were the mushrooms. 

Not merely because I take a fancy to the shiitake kind of mushroom, but also because it reminded me of other dishes that I used to have during Lunar New Year and now no more. 

The star of this braised duck dish, is of course, has to be the gravy.

Rich, thick, full of flavor, almost like a thick broth that I wanted to drink, it reminded me of those specially prepared homecooked meals for those who needed a boost to their constitution.

That being said, liking this braised duck dish didn't mean that the Kong Bak Pao took second place. 

Of course not. 

It's not often that one gets to make a meal out of Five-Spice marinated braised pork belly chonks stuffed into steamed willowy white buns shaped like a cute puppet's mouth. 

I wish I knew more of what this Five Spice is made of. 

It's Chinese cooking magic, I tell you. 

Because whether it be in the hei zhor or in the braised pork belly, the burst of flavors that exploded out with each bite was so good. 

If it didn't bring back a sense of nostalgia, it created a new one. 

This evening I decided that Kong Bak Pao was really best eaten warm. 

A warm bun let the Bak melt smoothly away, let the warm heat of the Pao drift out of the bun, and let it all mush up like a comforting blend of textures and flavors in your mouth. 

So addictive was it that I wish we could have had another order to bring home. 

But Kong Bak Paos are one of those dishes that (whilst edible) don't taste as good once they're packed in a box and heated in a microwave. 

So we decided to dabao the gravy back instead, and a wise choice it turned out to be.

There was, after all, a senior lady in a nursing home who a long time ago used to enjoy the food in this restaurant and we knew would love the taste of (carefully pureed) gravy from both the Braised Duck and the Kong Bak which my friend planned to give her.  

Peace of Mind

To be honest, I don't know if I should be writing about this and I don't know (I'm afraid actually) that it may bring about a consequence which I don't wish to have, but there's perhaps something about this place being the very first picture that I snapped in the year of 2024. 

We were there for what I call a maintenance appointment. 

Not for me, but for an elderly who, due to very unfortunate circumstances several years ago, went through a bout of depression and so came here to see a Professor whom, thankfully, after all these years, continues to see her elderly patients here at the clinic in the Institute of Mental Health. 

Today everything was good, thank God- just the usual round of maintenance medicine required. 

However, coming to this place so early in the year made me think about myself, about the year past, and how it had been. 

I'm just going to say it as it is.

It wasn't good. 

Now I'm not going to say that it was completely bad- that wouldn't be fair to those who love me, those who look after me, those who have helped me and who continue to help me- but I have to admit that not for one day since early January of 2023 have I woken up feeling free and filled with zest to face the day. 

I mean, let's start with the fact that Night Owl me who used to sleep at 2am (waking up at 9) now wakes up at 630-645am no matter how late the previous night I've gone to bed. 

It's been like this for a whole year, now even more. 

I long for a day where I can sleep past 830am. 

I long for a day where I can not have to waste a precious hour in the evening speaking to persons whom I don't wish to speak to except for the sake of keeping the person happy (when there was never that much of a need to).

I'm tired of doing things for persons who take up so much of my time that I can't do anything else or have to factor those persons' s*** in.

And I'm tired of wasting a day getting stuff for persons who actually can jolly well do it themselves. 

What hurts isn't merely the time and the effort and the hassle. 

What hurts is that the appreciation given is just another tool to keep doing.

Still that's something one can try to cope with.

But what makes it impossible is the toxicity.

What makes it difficult to breathe is the level of control administered where subjugation (as a renowned psychiatrist told me) is a way of life. 

This is beyond mere control. 

This is a situation where persons tell you to do what to do, exactly how to do it, and hell become yours if you do it any other way. 

I've not been able to shut out the toxicity that sweeps upon me (in my head!) every time I have to do something for the persons. 

Neither have I been able to be comfortable and trusting because whatever interaction carries deep within it deceit, evil, self-centeredness, domination, and malice. 

There was a time I stopped the smile in the interactions.

Later I realized it got worse for me when I stopped the smile. 

So now I continue the lie to smile.

But tenterhooks and stomach churns do s*** to you. 

Perhaps all I long for is to have peace of mind. 

Peace of mind to truly be myself without having to 'devote' time to this and that and this and that. 

Peace of mind to live without having to balance two lives of which they must never, never, never intertwine. 

Tell you honestly?

I want to sleep.

I want to sleep and sleep and sleep.

I won't do it deliberately. 

There're visuals that I have that prevent me from trying to fall asleep.

It's not fair to those who love me and those who have helped me if I go through day on day with a black, sourpuss face. 

It's also not fair to those who have chosen to help me and solve s*** for me as much as one can. 

So even though I'm very, very, very tired, I try to heal.

This battle needs to be won. 

And I need to rest, I need to really, really heal.

Bench near the Nursing Home

There will come a time very soon- I anticipate- where I won't have such and such a view anymore. 

Does it matter to me? 

Do I feel sentimental about it? 

If I think carefully, well, the answer's yes, and no.

Yes, because whether I like it or not, there has been such a view in my life, and in any case, those times didn't feel so bad. 

Yet at the same time, there's also a No, because, well, it would have been well to not have such and such a view in the first place. 

Life is such where most of the time we can only afford to roll with whatever we have. Questions like why we're there, why we're doing what we doing, what it is we're doing, and what the purpose of it all- we want to ask, we wish to ask, but we can't- the answers after all help little to our life and don't always bring the assurance we seek anyway. 

But they have happened, they did happen, and that's all we can think when attempting to cope with regards to it. 

Perhaps one day the view of this HDB void deck near Serangoon Central won't matter so much to me anymore. 

Perhaps one day the memory of myself sitting at the bench that granted me this view will also no longer be relevant.

I'm not sure when the relevance will disappear.

It has, after all, been three years over since Covid began, and visitor restrictions set in where instead of two visitors now there could only be one. 

So I decided to sit out. 

We didn't need two people to kit up in plastic aprons and mask up clinical style. One person- the more important one whom the elderly wanted to see- was enough. The other person got relegated to look after the backpack and other stuff.

Here's the funny thing though.

When it was I actually started sitting there, I can't recall.

Perhaps it was a few months after the restrictions set in. 

Perhaps it was after a while when I realized I didn't want to sit waiting for 30 minutes on the ledge at the Home's Garden under the hot afternoon sun. 

It was more comfortable sitting here in any case.

At least there was better wind. 

Most of the time I armed myself with paper and pen writing through a page. Sometimes, though, I put my heart to Youtube videos, online manga, or conversations with people on the messaging platforms. 

Great way to pass the time. 

There'll be some memories of this place that hold unique, of course. 

Not just of myself doing what I'm doing, but others, too. 

Like that of a boy, around 8 or 9, playing with a ball all by himself in the open courtyard, kicking it, chasing it, kicking it, chasing it again.

Like that of a lady whom, having seen me there writing diligently on my page, paused to ask if I were a teacher. 

And like that of a senior citizen, with his walking cane, taking a slow stroll around the courtyard with his cute, slow-lumbering, busily sniffing dog. 

Story of a BATA Bag

Couple of weeks ago whilst in the midst of packing my stuff, I decided that this bag, like the other one, too had to go. 

At first I wasn't sure.

It still was in quite a good condition, it still could be used, and more importantly, this bag, actually, wasn't mine.

No doubt I had been using it for almost 6 years, even hanging a little lion stuffie on it, but in fact it was on a borrowed status, and this bag originally belonged to a lady who bought it 9 years ago during a very trying season when she was rehabilitating from a stroke and going through physiotherapy to recover the use of her affected left leg and arm. 

In a season like that one tends to buy a lot of things. 

So at the BATA store in Peninsula Plaza one day she picked out this bag from the shelf, fished inside her old bag for a 50 dollar note, and paid for it. 

How long she carried this blue handbag for, I cannot remember now- probably a year give and take- but one day she decided that there wasn't any much of a point carrying this bag out anymore, so aside the bag went. 

There it sat unused for a season of time- probably about two years or so- until one day I was desperately looking around for a handbag to carry to a last minute professional meeting, and (with permission from her family) I borrowed it.

Time passed and the bag (sort of) became mine after a while. 

But a few years after I had to stop carrying it. 

Not because I felt like I shouldn't borrow it or use it but because the bag somehow seemed very heavy after my day to day belongings were placed in it, and despite my best efforts I found it hard to brush away the uncomfortable ache spreading over my shoulders.

Eventually other bags came into place and this one became left behind.

I haven't used this bag in probably over two years. 

It's just been sitting there. 

You know, one of the questions I asked myself before tossing this bag away into the bin was whether I would use this bag again in the future.

The answer was no. 

It wasn't the only question I asked. 

I asked myself too whether it was something the original owner still cherished. 

The answer too was, in all likelihood, no. 

Maybe she might recognize it, maybe she might not. 

I don't know. 

I'm not sure whether she still remembers it. 

And even if she does, I'm not sure whether she wants to be reminded of a time where she tried so hard to be strong, carrying all the things she thought she might need, every day, to CART at Tan Tock Seng Hospital, even though the design of the bag probably tired her out and made her commute more challenging than she assumed it would be.