Tonight, walking along Serangoon Road
Had dinner at 9 p.m. at the newly renovated Tekka market. Most of the stalls were closed, and I was looking for something healthier and cheap (a.k.a. fish soup) but no luck so I settled for roti prata (or more accurately, roti canai but you know the Singaporeans ah...) and a cup of masala tea (my first!). Masala tea is a kind of milk tea with a lot of spices (cinnamon and I don't know what the others were) and it tastes... different, not sure whether I like it or not.
Then I walked along Serangoon Road back to my place. The road is lined up with small Indian grocery stores selling different wares like Hindi DVDs (original one, don't play play), flower garlands, fruits, vegetables, jewelry, and Indian food. Nothing fancy really, it is like things you get from pasar malams. The street is pretty lively with Indians (duh), some Chinese like me, and tourists (with their typical tourist attire, map, and MCC look). True, this ain't Orchard road, but walking among these people and humble shophouses presents you with a different perspective of the highly urbanized Singapore. This place feel more like India (who am I kidding, I've never even been to India) than Singapore - a bit like when you go to Quebec from other parts of Canada and everything changes and you are wondering if you are still in Canada.
Anyway this place has a small-townish feel to it, and people feel more down to earth. And often you can see Indians sitting by the roadside or fields enjoying simple pleasures like the company of friends and a cheap but hearty meal heavy with Indian spices. Indeed this is a refreshing change from the sight of expensive-looking shopping malls and the self-conscious cosmopolitans.
More than anything else, I was enjoying my short walk back home, feeling free from the backbreaking workload from school and the weight of academic aspiration on my shoulders. Bah, to hell with university (at least for now)! Nowadays I occupy myself with food and travel.
Soon enough, I arrived at the 24-hour mart below where I stay. The durian seller, as always, was eating his rice with mixed vegetables (dripping with oil) from the brown parchment paper. Walked up the stairs, the walls decorated with brown stains from sources unknown, one or two dead cockcroaches, an old man gasping for air, and a baby barely able to breath. And I thought to myself, "This land is so rich. Why should we suffer like this?"
Inserting my key into its rightful slot, I gave it a slight twist. The door opened, the dog poked out his head, wagging his tail. I found out that my housemate is leaving for Beijing tonight (Oh, homeland of my forefathers! How I long to be in thy embrace!) and down with flu (ah, the irony). I sat my fat ass on the pitiable chair and started typing out this post, while at the same time looking for a place for dinner tomorrow at Clementi*
* Named after Sir Cecil Clementi, governor of Negeri-negeri Selat. Remember your Sejarah, guys? I don't. I saw this on Wikipedia.
Then I walked along Serangoon Road back to my place. The road is lined up with small Indian grocery stores selling different wares like Hindi DVDs (original one, don't play play), flower garlands, fruits, vegetables, jewelry, and Indian food. Nothing fancy really, it is like things you get from pasar malams. The street is pretty lively with Indians (duh), some Chinese like me, and tourists (with their typical tourist attire, map, and MCC look). True, this ain't Orchard road, but walking among these people and humble shophouses presents you with a different perspective of the highly urbanized Singapore. This place feel more like India (who am I kidding, I've never even been to India) than Singapore - a bit like when you go to Quebec from other parts of Canada and everything changes and you are wondering if you are still in Canada.
Anyway this place has a small-townish feel to it, and people feel more down to earth. And often you can see Indians sitting by the roadside or fields enjoying simple pleasures like the company of friends and a cheap but hearty meal heavy with Indian spices. Indeed this is a refreshing change from the sight of expensive-looking shopping malls and the self-conscious cosmopolitans.
More than anything else, I was enjoying my short walk back home, feeling free from the backbreaking workload from school and the weight of academic aspiration on my shoulders. Bah, to hell with university (at least for now)! Nowadays I occupy myself with food and travel.
Soon enough, I arrived at the 24-hour mart below where I stay. The durian seller, as always, was eating his rice with mixed vegetables (dripping with oil) from the brown parchment paper. Walked up the stairs, the walls decorated with brown stains from sources unknown, one or two dead cockcroaches, an old man gasping for air, and a baby barely able to breath. And I thought to myself, "This land is so rich. Why should we suffer like this?"
Inserting my key into its rightful slot, I gave it a slight twist. The door opened, the dog poked out his head, wagging his tail. I found out that my housemate is leaving for Beijing tonight (Oh, homeland of my forefathers! How I long to be in thy embrace!) and down with flu (ah, the irony). I sat my fat ass on the pitiable chair and started typing out this post, while at the same time looking for a place for dinner tomorrow at Clementi*
* Named after Sir Cecil Clementi, governor of Negeri-negeri Selat. Remember your Sejarah, guys? I don't. I saw this on Wikipedia.