The joy of being caged in the courthouse

There was a time when I would always look forward to a visit to the old Supreme Court building that stands majestically on St. Andrew’s Road. Together with the former City Hall, the imposing grey stone buildings that face the Padang are very much what we have always seemed to identify immediately with Singapore and the heart of Singapore, and had been among the buildings that were my favourites when I was growing up.

The former Supreme Court building along St. Andrew's Road.

A postcard of the Supreme Court and City Hall seen from the Padang (c. 1950).

The view of the former Supreme Court and City Hall today. Both buildings will be converted into the National Art Gallery which will open in 2012.

My mother was fond of shopping either at High Street or at Raffles Place, and those being close to the Supreme Court, she would sometimes call on a friend of hers who had for a while worked at the court as a verbatim reporter on her way to doing an external law degree. Her office was on one of the upper floors and to get to that would always mean that we had to use a side entrance to get to a lift lobby and get into what was my favourite lift in Singapore – an old cage lift with a collapsible gate that was surrounded by a staircase. It fascinated me being in that cage lift, one that seemed like none other in Singapore, opened and airy and offering a view other than that of a closed lift cabin that I was used to being in. If not for my mother, I might have taken a ride in the lift all day.

It would have been through one of the side entrances that my mother would have taken me through to visit her friend who was a verbatim reporter at her office.

The Supreme Court building, one of the landmarks that immediately catches the attention of audiences of the Formula One night race along the illuminated street circuit, hadn’t always there as I had imagined it had been in my childhood. It was in fact, one of the more recent additions to the magnificent set of buildings to the set of buildings planned for the area, having being completed in 1939. Said to be the finest work of Frank Dorrington Ward and described as “undoubtedly the finest Malayan building” when it was built, the chief architect with the Public Works Department who was also responsible for designing Clifford Pier, construction or at least the preparation work for construction started on the site on which the Hotel de L’Europe, owned by Nassim Nassim Adis, the owner of Adis Lodge, had stood, in 1935. The majestic hotel had faced financial difficulties and closed in 1933 and the municipal had purchased the land which was in Ward’s plan to be part of the new Empress Place.

The old Supreme Court is one of the instantly recognisable landmarks that feature along the F1 night race circuit.

The Hotel de L'Europe stood where the old Supreme Court now stands at the corner of High Street and St. Andrew's Road. The Hotel closed in 1933 and the land acquired in 1935 to build the Supreme Court (source: Ray Tyers Singapore Then and Now).

Built at a cost of $1.75 million, it was designed in the classical style and features a copper topped dome that stands out even in the backdrop of the altered skyline of Singapore. Its imposing façade features Corinthian columns in the centre and Ionic columns on the flanks. Designed to match the height of the neighbouring City Hall which was then the Municipal Offices, it also features a cornice that is higher than that of the City Hall building to give the relatively smaller building more dignity. The building was to have been followed up with the construction of another imposing building similar to the Municipal Offices next to it. This would have involved the demolition of the Cricket Club and Victoria Memorial Hall – but it proved to be the last to be built as further work was stopped due to the steel famine with the outbreak of war in Europe.

Built in the Classical style, the building's façade features Corinthian and Ionic columns.

The centre façade of the building also features a pediment with sculptures made by a Milanese sculptor Cavalieri Rudolfo Nolli. As a child the sculptures were something that always caught my attention, particularly the central figure of Justice. Justice on the pediment is flanked by a group of sculptures which include figures representing deceit and violence to the left and another group representing prosperity through law, peace and plenty to the right.

The central section of the building's façade features a Corinthian colonnade over a carriage porch which served as the main entrance, topped by a pediment decorated with sculptures by a Milanese sculptor, Cavalieri Rudolfo Nolli.

The pediment and the green oxidised copper roof of the dome.

Justice, the central figure in the group of pediment sculptures.

Justice is flanked on the left by figures representing violence and deceit and two legislators.

On the right of Justice is a group of sculptures representing prosperity through law, peace and plenty.

An interesting fact about the way the building had been designed was that there was a central domed library around which four courts had been arranged. The design also took into account the traffic noise from High Street, with rooms on the ground and upper floor laid out so as not to face High Street and such that there would be a covered walkway on that side of the building. The building was opened by the governor, Sir Shenton Thomas on 3 August 1939 and used as the Supreme Court until 2005 when the new Supreme Court building was completed. The building, along with the City Hall would soon see a new lease of life, as the National Art Gallery – and when it opens, I for one will make a beeline for it … just to see if that cage lift that I once so loved, is still there for me to say hello to.

An archway leading to the walkway on the High Street (now Parliament Place) side.

A window that offers a peek into the courthouse?

The living streets of Shanghai and the less Singaporean Singapore that we have become

One of the things that struck me when I was wandering through some of the streets of Shanghai was that many of the streets were “living”, despite the modernisation that has engulfed much of the city. It is much the same in many of the cities of Asia where there is an interesting mix of old and new, of tradition and modernity, where old trades are often found amidst the office blocks and shopping malls that have sprouted up alongside the older buildings where people are living as well as making a living very much in the same way they may have done half a century ago. It is always nice to see that in a city, it is the living streets, each one different from the other, that often give a city its character.

Singapore has an absence of street life which can still be found in many of the modern Asian cities.

It's always nice to see vendors on the streets that cater to the day-to-day needs of the people who live in the cities rather than to the tourists.

In Singapore, we have unfortunately lost all that. Wandering around the streets of Chinatown one morning, it felt as if I was in an empty amusement park before opening time. It was empty, devoid of all life. Not the Chinatown that made Chinatown, Chinatown. This is a sad reflection of what we have become. We had wonderful living streets, some that never slept, where people lived their lives on, where colourful food stalls lined the streets, stalls selling produce in the mornings, dried sundries, clothes and whatever one needed all day, and brightly lit food stalls serving a delicious choice of street fare that somehow seemed to taste that much better off the streets. There would be the crowds that throng the streets all day, housewives doing their marketing in the mornings, shoppers looking for a bargain in the afternoons and the multitudes out on the streets in search for a sumptuous feast. We now have lost all that to the glitzy shopping malls, office blocks and the giant amusement park that Singapore has become. A reader Greg, lamented about our lost buildings around the Raffles Place and Collyer Quay area – yes there were certainly some magnificent examples of colonial architecture that we have lost, replaced by towering masses of glass and steel. Not only we have lost that, we have lost the soul of what Singapore was. Even in areas where attempts are made to conserve some of the beautiful edifices, the structures stand without a heart and soul, as it is in Chinatown. Where we once saw people going about their day to day lives, we now see hordes of tourists fooled into thinking it is the genuine Chinatown they have been brought to. Where traditional trades supporting the day-to-day needs of people living around had once thrived, the buildings now are saturated with businesses that give the tourists what they think they want at a price that is set by the profits that the landlords and business owners so crave.

An already somewhat sanitised Chinatown in 1984, with some semblance of street life. The corner of Smith and Trengganu Streets is seen here.

The same corner today ... where tourist shops being rented at high prices have replaced what were shops catering to the day-to-day needs of the people around.

The streets of Chinatown today are quiet and without the soul that made Chinatown what it once was.

The streets of Chinatown are no longer coloured by life on the streets, but by symbols that fool people into thinking that the Chinatown they see is authentic.

Where traditional businesses once thrived, shops selling expensive suggestions of what we would like tourists to see Chinatown as.

Street markets of the tourist kind - nothing like the atmosphere found in the street markets of old.

Much of the effort to modernise Singapore took place when I was growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, when many were moved out of the streets of the city and the villages in the rural areas into the housing estates that lack the character that the older streets and villages had. I suppose some may argue that that is the price of progress that we must pay and that we should be thankful for improved conditions in which many of us now live in with comfortable housing units, clean water and proper sanitisation. But, we have paid a price in that we have in sanitising Singapore, also sanitised the richness and diversity that could only be found in Singapore. In modernising Singapore and in attempting to selectively retain what makes us Asian, we have also discarded not just the street life, but also the many unique sub-cultures that were very much a part of what made Singapore, Singapore. We have become less of the unique Singapore that the tourist board might have many believe, but a Singapore that bears very little of the microcosm of Asia it once was.

The streets of Shanghai each have a unique character that is lacking in much of Singapore.

Where you can still find people plying trades that were once a common sight on the streets of Singapore.

The streets of Singapore used to be filled with vendors selling wares and produce that cater to the needs of the ordinary folk on the street.

All that Jazz: New Orleans and the Preservation Hall

There is nothing that can describe sitting in the humid air of the dusty floor of a packed hall in an old Spanish colonial building set in the main square in the Vieux Carré and listening to feet tapping strains of the brass, woodwind, bass, piano, and percussion instruments that could only be associated with the fabulous sounds of the southern brand of jazz, all for a sum of two U.S. dollars. I suppose there is nothing that can aptly describe New Orleans as well, where the Preservation Hall Jazz Band performs every evening since 1961 to packed audiences in a setting that could only be that of the temple of southern jazz. New Orleans is a city that is unique in many ways, atypical as North American cities go, a collection of the influences of her former French and Spanish masters, before becoming coming under control of the U.S. with the Louisiana Purchase from Napoleon for a sum of $15 million. In New Orleans, we see architecture that is inherited from the Spanish, a joie de vivre inherited from the French, in a setting that perhaps feels more like the Caribbean that a city on the North American mainland should.

The Preservation Hall Jazz Band performing to a packed hall.

The Preservation Hall on St. Peter Street (off Jackson Square) was founded in 1961 and is the temple of southern jazz.

Wandering around the streets of the French Quarter or Vieux Carré filled with buildings that date back to the era of Spanish rule in the late 18th Century with the characteristic wrought iron balconies and inner courtyards, one can’t escape from the sound of music that constantly fills the air. In and around the Vieux Carré which is centered on Jackson Square, the former Place d’Armes, one often sees a piano or two being wheeled around. Music is very much a part of street life in a city that is synonymous with hearty celebration and cuisine: the Mardi Gras and Jambalaya. It is a city that is both magical as well as being mysterious, being associated with practices such as Voodoo, where walks around the old cemetery is a must for the visitor as much as sitting on the floor of the Preservation Hall is. It is a city that continues to fascinate me and one that I would love the opportunity to visit again.

Music is everywhere in New Orleans.

The wrought iron balconies of the Spanish influenced buildings that line the streets of New Orleans.

A trip back in time to the Singapore of the sixties

For anyone looking to take a trip down memory lane, or perhaps a trip back in time to catch a glimpse of what life might have been like in the Singapore of the 1960s, the Singapore 1960 exhibition at the National Museum of Singapore offers a chance to do just that. The exhibition which opened on 3 June, the anniversary of self-government, runs up to 22 August and features a display of more than 300 items from the 1960s. The exhibits include items which were commonly found in the 1960s as well as scenes of the life replayed in black and white providing a view into the vibrant cultural and entertainment scene of Singapore in the 1960s, including a view of the different “worlds”: Gay World, Great World, and New World, which played a big role in keeping Singaporeans amused and entertained.

The Singapore 1960 exhibition offers the visitor a glimpse into life in the different world that was Singapore back in the 1960s.

Scenes from the 1960s including a glimpse into the different "worlds" are replayed in black and white.

It was a trip back in time for me as well, as I browsed through the exhibits. Some were familiar to me, transporting me back to the Singapore of my childhood, to a Singapore that was a very different place from the one we know of today. There were many reminders of the era, as well as the place, in which I had spent my early years in. One such reminder was in the form of a cigarette tin. I remember tins such as the one on display particularly well. This was from being sent regularly to the provision shop to buy a couple of sticks of cigarettes by my father. Cigarettes could then be purchased individually over the counter and this would be taken out of a tin. At that time, my father was trying then to curb his smoking habit and decided not to have a packet at his disposal at home, and so I would invariably be sent to the shops below whenever he felt like a cigarette (something that was possible then as there were no restrictions on minors buying cigarettes, and something I never enjoyed doing) to buy two sticks at a time.

The very familiar cigarette tin with which I was well acquainted with.

There were many of the other exhibits that were familiar to me: a metal Player’s Navy Cut ashtray commonly found on the marble topped tables of coffee shops which brought with it memories of the coffee shops of old and spittoons that I never seemed to avoid kicking below the marble topped tables. There were two Magnolia soft drink bottles which brought memories of the Magnolia Grape soft drink that was one of my favourites once upon a time, as well reminded me of how Magnolia Milk was sold in similar bottles. A Smith Corona typewriter displayed on a desk brought back memories of how offices were once like when the constant sound of the clickaty-clack of the typewriters would always be heard in the background.

A Player's Navy Cut ashtray which was a common sight on the marble top coffee shop tables in the 1960s and 1970s.

A Smith Corona typewriter - commonly found in the offices of the 1960s and 1970s.

There are also pages from the newspapers of the era to browse through, providing an insight into a turbulent and violent decade in Singapore’s history, as well as images of a time some half a century ago, which provides an appreciation of how it once had been before Singapore became the clean and sanitised world that is the Singapore that we now know.

Pages from the newspapers provide an insight into a turbulent and violent decade in Singapore's history.

The Magnolia soft drink bottle - my favourite was Magnolia Grape! Magnolia also sold milk, normal, strawberry and chocolate flavoured ones in similar bottles.

Images of life in the 1960s are also captured in the photographs on display. A close-up of a photograph of a satay seller by Lee Sow Kim taken in the 1950s.

The Neptune - a popular cabaret along Collyer Quay in the 1960s and 1970s.

Fashion on display: colourful sarong kebayas commonly seen in the 1960s.

The cover of an issue of Her World from 1962.

A reminder of a forgotten fact: the National Language of Singapore.

Words from the National Anthem of Singapore.

Close up of a record sleeve. The music recording industry had its heyday in the 1960s in Singapore.

Also on display are pieces from the Aw Boon Haw jade collection which were donated to the National Museum of Singapore in 1979 and contain pieces from the late Qing period.

Moments in space: Changzhou, China

There is nothing I enjoy more than seeing and being able to immerse myself in the sights, smells, tastes and sounds of a new place. I enjy being able to do so, especially in much of Asia, where the streets are very much alive with people living their daily lives. There are times, however, when passing through a place, or on a working trip, when the situation does not permit me to do that, and I have to contend with looking from a distance, from a vantage point that provided me with some wonderful childhood memories – the backseat of a car.

Looking at the streets of Changzhou, Jiangsu Province, from the backseat of a car.

Finding myself in Changzhou for a two day visit, and without much of an opportunity to do what I would like to have done, I could but only have an experience of the city through the windows of the backseat of the car, which was a pity as there is a lot more to see and feel of the sprawling industrial city in Jiangsu, with a bit of history and what is also the world’s tallest Pagoda. So it was that I became that child again, looking at wide avenues of Changzhou from a distance, looking at what I see around me with the curiousity of a child. It is wonderful these days to be able to so easily capture the images that I see, as I look at the world, even if it is difficult to manage a good photograph through the tinted, dust covered window of a moving vehicle. It doesn’t matter I suppose, as it provides me with the opportunity to freeze not just a moment in time, but to capture what I see in time and in space – what is to me that moment in space. Space and what we do see at any moment in space being very much influenced by the passage of time.

Looking from the backseat provides me with a reflection of how life is in a world other than my own.

Watching the world pass him by through the window of a bus.

A glimpse of life can be seen on the streets anywhere in the world, even from the vehicles parked on the streets.

Getting home to watch the World Cup?

The scene of a minor accident.

A two dimensional balancing act.

What's that doing up there?

Plastic pipes.

Anywhere is a good place for a shut-eye.

Including on a motorcycle!

Crossing the wide intersections in Changzhou can prove to be a challenge.

... especially if you need to text.

Public transport blues.

but ... there's an alternative waiting!

... or you could rely on the good old method of getting about ...

... or you could hitch a ride ...

The curved buildings at the end of Collyer Quay and the Straits Steamship Company

Many of us these days would probably have forgotten about the Straits Steamship Company and the significant role that the company played in Singapore’s development as a maritime nation. The company, when it was incorporated in 1890, was perhaps a reflection of what Singapore had become – a mix of east and west, with both investors of European origin as well as several of Asian origin. The fleet of ships that the company operated, numbered as many as 53 at its height, linking ports in much of the Malayan Peninsula and British Borneo, facilitating the development of many of the more remote parts of the region. The company had its headquarters at the curve of Collyer Quay, where it meets Cecil Street, and for a while was housed in a beautiful five storey example of colonial architecture, not the original, but the second Ocean Building (the first was built on the site in 1864). The building, construction of which was started in 1919 and completed in 1923, was designed by a British architect, Somers H. Ellis.  It featured overhanging balconies on the second and fifth levels and verandahs on the third and fourth levels. The building was topped with a tower that rose some 49 metres above ground, making it the tallest building in Singapore back when it was built.

Ocean Building in the 1920s (Source: W. A. Laxton, The Straits Steamship Fleets).

That glorious Ocean Building stood for some 47 years until 1970, when it was demolished to make way for yet another Ocean Building – this time a 28 storey tower block which was built on an expanded site that included Prince Street which once linked Collyer Quay with Raffles Place and Prince Building across from the older Ocean Building. The new building was completed in 1974 and housed the offices of many shipping companies as well as that of the Straits Steamship Company. It also housed the Mercantile Bank, which had prior to that, operated from Raffles Place since 1861. During the time the third building stood, the Straits Steamship Company disappeared, a victim of the rapid growth in containerisation and the growing irrelevance of conventional regional shipping. The company was sold to Keppel in 1983 and a shift in focus to land development saw a change of name to Straits Steamship Land Ltd, before it became Keppel Land in 1997. The company finally withdrew totally from shipping in 2004.

The third Ocean Building (seen on the left of the picture) in 1974 (Photo courtesy of Peter Chan).

The third 28 storey Ocean Building is now gone as well, having stood for some 33 years. On its site and what was the neighbouring Ocean Towers, the new 43 storey Ocean Financial Towers which is scheduled for completion in 2011, is being built. With this, we would probably find it harder to remember that beautiful curved building that stood at the corner of Collyer Quay and the Straits Steamship Company which had a long association with the buildings of the name.

The fourth "Ocean Building", the Ocean Financial Tower is scheduled to be completed in 2011. It is being erected on the site of the 28 storey Ocean Building which was demolished in 2007.

Through the eyes of the child that I still am

Watching a boy of maybe four, as he stood and watched enthralled by an exterior lift in a shopping mall one day, it struck me that as children, we often have a curiousity about almost everything that we see, and we could have a fascination with the simplest of objects that we in our later life take for granted. As a child, the world around me was certainly an endless source of fascination, and there was little out there that escaped my eyes. There were some objects that I would hold a particular fascination for, objects that I would always look out for. Some were more common things that I would see almost everyday and the others perhaps less so.

Fire hydrants were (and still are) a source of fascination for me. The more common twin outlet hydrant is seen here

I liked to look out for the older less common "taller" hydrants like this one seen in Empress Place.

One of the more common ones that I never failed to stop and stare at, or when I was looking out from the back seat of my father’s car was the fire hydrant. I would always try to look out for them, and particularly for the “taller” ones, the older hydrants, a few of which could still be found. That fascination has somehow been carried into adulthood, and hydrants still somehow catch my attention, wherever I am. In Singapore these days, we can still see the “taller” hydrant, there is one that stands alone, that I have noticed in Empress Place. Besides the twin outlet hydrants that we commonly see along the streets,there are also the triple outlet ones, with a ball-shaped head, which can be found in the Central Business District. The triple outlet ones were introduced in the early 1980s together with higher capacity water mains to cope with the increased demands envisaged in fighting fires in the CBD due to the high density of high-rise buildings.

The triple outlet hydrants with a ball shaped head were introduced in the CBD in the early 1980s to meet the demands of fighting fires in areas where there is a high density of high-rise buildings.

Another thing that I remember having a particular interest in was the roller – anything that had a long cylinder with an axle fitted to it. It could be the steam rollers that I would sometime encounter on the road, the sight of which I would have most certainly exclaimed at. It could also be the humble rolling pin which frequently featured as a means by which the wife, Maggie, of the main character, Jiggs, often got her wishes fulfilled in the comic strip “Bringing Up Father”, and also in the preparation of the wonderful pineapple tarts that my my never lacked a reason for baking. There was one particular roller that interested me more than the others – one that sat in the corner of my Godmother’s lawn. The heavy concrete grass roller wasn’t remarkable by any measure in terms of its appearance, with a sandy coloured sun drenched cylinder and a metal axle attached to a frame which was used by the gardener to move it. I would often sit and watch the gardener at work, taken by the how the roller could be used to level the lawn. I did often harbour the thought of moving it by myself everytime I saw it at rest – trying to do it once when my mother wasn’t looking and finding that I couldn’t move it an inch, despite summoning all my strength. It was were I would often sit on to watch the older children play on the lawn. It has been years since I have seen a lawn roller – it is another object that if I see once again, I would most certainly stop and stare at, through the eyes of that child I was.

The grass roller that I had a fascination for.

A walk down the Bund

The Bund in Shanghai has been a place that I have, for a long time, wanted to visit. It wasn’t because of reading so much about it and its association with two unpleasant chapters in the history of China, or beacuse of watching the Steven Spielberg movie based on the semi-autobiographical novel written by J. G. Ballard, “Empire of the Sun”, but strange as it may sound, because of its rather odd sounding name, which seems out of place for a city in China. That the Bund features many magnificent and excellent examples of European styled architecture over the one mile stretch of Shanghai on the west bank of the Huangpo River, is in itself, a reflection of the strangeness of this. There are reasons for this oddity, one of historical significance, one that had for many years, been a sore point for many Chinese. It is an oddity that speaks of the attempts by the European powers to dominate a once weak China. The name is derived from the Hindi word for an embankment, and was said to have been brought over by the family of the very successful Baghdadi Jewish hotel owner and businessman, Victor Sasson. Sasson once owned one of the buildings that dominates the Bund, the copper roofed Cathay, now the Peace Hotel.

The Bund by night offers a breathtaking view of the mile long stretch of buildings and the contrast that Shanghai offers

The buildings which feature styles of architecture providing a glimpse into a Shanghai of a time when European powers attempted to dominate China, are beautifully illuminated at night.

I can now say that I have finally done what I had longed to do, managing to take a stroll down the Bund, as many in the crowd that one can never escape from on the streets of Shanghai had gathered to do on the cool and foggy midsummer’s evening, and taking in the magnificence of the view on offer. The view of the mile stretch is even more breathtaking by night, the glowing green roof of the Peace Hotel featuring prominently in the row of beautifully illuminated buildings that revel in the attention that a wealthy China can now give, that having been built in the lavish styles that only money made from the exploitation of the concessions that were made by a once crumbling China, they could only have only previously begged for. It is a sight that having for so long wanted to see, will certainly long remember.

Architecture that speaks of the money that the business that thrived from the concessions.

The former McBain Building at No. 1 marks the beginning of the one mile stretch.

No. 2, the former Shanghai Club.

No.3 (left), the former Union Assurance Building, and No. 5, the former NKK Building.

No. 6, the former Commercial Bank of China Building.

No. 7, the former Great Northern Telegramme Company Building (now Bangkok Bank).

No. 9, the former China Merchants Steam Navigation Company Building.

No. 12, the former HSBC Building, now the Pudong Development Bank.

No 13 (far right), the Customs House.

No 14, The former Bank of Communications Building.

No 15, the former Russo-Asiatic Bank Building.

No. 16, the former Bank of Taiwan Building.

No. 17, the former North China Daily News Building (now AIA Building).

No. 18, the former Chartered Bank Building.

No. 19 (left), the former Palace Hotel, now the Swatch Peace Hotel.

No. 20, the green roofed former Cathay Hotel owned by Victor Sasson, now the Fairmont Peace Hotel.

Another view of the former Cathay Hotel.

No. 23, the Bank of China Building.

No. 24, the former Yokohama Specie Bank Building, now the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China Building.

No. 27, the former Jardine Matheson and Company Building, now the Foreign Trade Corporation Building.

No. 28, the former Glen Line Steamship Building, now the People's Broadcasting Station.

No. 29, the former Banque de l'Indochine Building, now the Everbright Bank Building.

European high fashion on the former European High Street of the Far East.

The Signal Tower on the Bund.

Another view of the Bund by night.

They don’t build schools like they used to

I just love old school buildings in Singapore. There are many built by the various missions which still survive in some form like the magnificent building that was my alma mater, now the Singapore Art Museum, and there are the many more that were built at various periods in  Singapore’s history, reflected in the architectural style (or absence of), each with a charm and character of its own. I particularly love the single storey schools, which I suppose were liked by both teachers and students: teachers as there would not be the need to trudge up and down the stairs with the heavy pile of books before and after each class, and students, as it allowed a quick dash to the expansive playing field that were usually found by the clusters of classrooms, or to the tuck shop. One such school was Anthony Road Girls’ School which my mother taught at in the 1960s. She did mention that this was her favourite school for the very reasons that I mention, and for the airy widely spaced classrooms housed in rows of single storey buildings spaced relatively widely apart, providing the classrooms with very generous ventilation.

Anthony Road Girls' School in the 1960s.

During her posting there, I had a few opportunities to accompany her, mostly on the Saturdays when classes were conducted (classes were conducted every other Saturday at one time in Singapore), when I would wait for her in the airy staff room while classes were going on. Walking around the school with her, I always caught the smell of exercise books that somehow always accompanied visits to the schools. What I remember the most was the wonderful field which ran along Clemenceau Avenue where sports days would be conducted.

The dressed up buildings that were once Anthony Road Girls' School.

It’s nice to see that the buildings are still there – although they have been disfigured somewhat for use by the Ascott Group, for what appears to be a training centre. It had previously housed the Chao Yang Special School for special needs pupils, and was before that, the temporary home for St. Margaret’s Primary School while the premises at Mount Sophia were being rebuilt soon after the Girls’ School closed its doors. It would however, really be nice to see it as it was, plain and unassuming, built as a functional and practical solution to solve a growing problem in post war Singapore.

The field and the cluster of single storey buildings gave the old school a certain charm.

The school was one of the first four “emergency” schools that were built in 1950, under the supplementary education scheme launched to provide schools to absorb the growing population of school going age children, who had had no schools to go to. Many had ended up working as juvenile hawkers which was creating a potential social problem and with the realisation of this, the then colonial government put forward the scheme which involved building “emergency” schools and also the training of more teachers to cope with the tens of thousands of school children that the schools were being built to house. The other of these first four schools were Monk’s Hill Boys’ School, and schools at Duchess Road and McNair Road. These days, schools are no longer what they used to be like, simple in form and in execution. It would be good to see some of the old schools such as this one at Anthony Road, kept as they were built to be, as a reminder of how it once was in Singapore.

Roof structures that have been added that overdress the old school buildings. It would be nice to see the buildings in their original form.

So, it wasn’t the cat after all!

So it wasn’t really the cat after all, or the dog for that matter. The PUB confirmed this in a statement issued late this afternoon. Quoting a Channel NewsAsia report, “in its statement the PUB said the drain’s capacity is adequate as it has handled previous rains of similar intensity”. In the statement, the PUB blamed the flooding on the build up of debris which were trapped in a culvert near Delfi Orchard. The culvert which diverts water from Nassim and Cuscaden Road into two sections of Stamford Canal, runs along Orchard Road. As a result of the heavy build-up of debris the rainwater from the heavy rainfall was diverted to only one the sections of the canal.

High and dry ... this cat certainly wasn't the culprit, nor the dogs that were said to have fallen with the cats!

The PUB did say in the statement that it would be increasing the frequency of maintenance and inspections of critical closed drains as a result. While this does help to prevent future repeat occurrences of Wednesday’s flood, it would certainly be more effective if we were to tackle the problem at its source. Walking around Singapore these days, there is certainly a lot of litter that can be seen strewn around: plastic cups, plastic bags, plastic bottles, styrofoam food containers etc. Many of these do eventually find their way into the drains and canals when it rains. The recent launch of the new anti-littering drive which was announced last week and the associated measures to curb littering now takes on a greater degree of importance. Let’s hope the recent flooding helps to bring the message to everyone that the consequences of littering can be a lot more far reaching than many of us would like to believe.

The heavy downpour caused debris to be trapped diverting water into only one of two sections of the canal. An open section of the canal is seen here behind Tanglin Shopping Centre.

Walking around Singapore these days, litter such as plastic cups, styrofoam containers, plastic bottles and bags, etc. can be found everywhere.

Much of the litter eventually ends up in the drains and canals, not just choking them, but also diverting them into our rivers and reservoirs.

When parts of Singapore were under 2 metres of water

The flooding that occurred yesterday morning brings to mind some massive floods that hit Singapore previously which had resulted in much devastation and damage. Looking back in time, yesterday’s flooding pales in comparison to the monster flood that affected much of the island some 40 years ago on 10 December 1969. Some 12 inches or 300 millimetres of rain fell in a 24 hour period leaving many parts of Singapore submerged up to chest levels, with waters in the worst hit areas rising over 2 metres, in the worst flooding in some 35 years. Some 3000 people were left homeless as a result and five people were killed. Potong Pasir would usually be one of the worst hit areas and I remember being able to see only the attap and zinc roofs of houses from the vantage of the block of flats I lived in in Toa Payoh, which overlooked the area. Vegetable farms were destroyed and much of the livestock kept in the pig and poultry farms would have drowned – another thing I remember seeing is the clean pink carcasses of pigs floating in the flood waters.

Flooding at Newton Circus 10 December 1969. 300 mm of rain fell over a 24 hour period causing massive flooding all over Singapore. Water rose to chest levels in many parts of Singapore, and over 2 metres in some of the worst hit areas.

Another big  flood I recall was the one that hit on 2 December 1978, when six people died. Most of the deaths associated with that flood and the many others before it, were due to people falling into monsoon drains and being swept away by the fast moving water. This led to the installation of guard rails along monsoon drains, as it was often hard to tell where the monsoon drains were during a flood. I recall an incident when going to school in Essex Road off Thomson Road, one of the areas prone to flooding. During one flood, waters rose to knee deep levels and a schoolmate lost his footing, falling into the drain near the school gate – fortunately for him, he was able to hold on to something and pull himself out of the drain. It is comforting to know that much has been done to improve drainage on the island. If not for that, the 100 millimetres of rain that we saw yesterday might have resulted in something that could have matched the monster floods of 1969 and 1978.

Singapore underwater

Oopsie, I guess I may have been a little premature in celebrating the rain this morning – the rain does provide a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that has seemed to engulf us of late, but today, there was some serious flooding that occurred in parts of Singapore. Channel NewsAsia reported that the areas affected included Bukit Timah, Newton Circus and Scotts Road. It does seem that the junction of Scotts and Orchard Roads were hit pretty badly with stalled vehicles causing chaos at the junction which resulted in a friend of mine being stuck for 3 hours! There were some pretty amazing scenes looking at the pictures he took.

The thing about today’s flash floods was that it coincided with the low tide. What we may also recall were the floods which occurred in Bukit Timah last November which were said to be a once in 50 year event. It would be interesting to see what the authorities say over the next few days.

Flooding was quite a regular occurrence in Singapore at one time and I recall that the area where the primary school that I attended was, had been quite flood prone and we regularly had to wade through flood waters. The home of a classmate staying opposite the school in Lincoln Road was regularly affected. Keng Lee Road and Cambridge Road nearby, where I went to kindergarten was also prone to the Rochor Canal that ran along Kampong Java Road overflowing, and there were occasions when I had to be carried over the flood waters. Whatever it is, I am thankful that the drainage system has improved to the extent that flooding isn’t what one expects whenever there is a downpour.

Photos of the Scotts Road and Orchard Road junctions on 16 June 2010 (courtesy of James Tan):

Raindrops keep falling on my head

I suppose that some may not agree with me, but the rain this morning is a reason to celebrate. I have always been fond of the rain as I find that there is nothing that compares to the freshness that rain can bring to otherwise angry day. Walking in the rain this morning, as I have always been inclined to do, I was reminded of my days in school, when I never resisted the opportunity to play in the rain and splash in the puddles of water. My white canvas school shoes could never stay white in the rain and my feet were never dry. I guess I was one of the more fortunate, having two pairs of school shoes, allowing me the luxury of washing one pair at any time during the week and leaving them to dry under the refrigerator. This brings to mind a common sight back then when school children in raincoats could be seen walking with bags of plastic over their shoes, with some in flip-flops – all done to protect their only pair of shoes from getting wet.

The rain this morning.

The rain this morning also brings to mind a Hal David and Burt Bacharach song popularised by B. J. Thomas that was popular in the 1970s – one that as school children, we would sing on rainy days:

Raindrops keep falling on my head,
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed,
nothing seems to fit.
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling.

So I just did me some talking to the sun.
And I said I didn’t like the way, he got things done…
sleeping on the job…
those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling.

But there’s one thing I know:
The blues they send to meet me won’t defeat me.
It won’t be long till happiness sleps up to greet me.

Raindrops keep falling on my head,
but that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turning red.
Crying’s not for me
cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complaining.
Because I’m free.
Nothing’s worrying me.

Sights and smells of a forgotten past

Isn’t it just wonderful that smells can sometimes evoke a memory that has been stashed away in the corner of your mind? It was the case for me, wondering around the beach at Jimbaran where in the midst of the boats and nets that littered the beach, I was greeted by a smell that I had known from the many night catching crabs at the Mata Jetty or in my wanderings through some of the coastal villages of Singapore. It was a smell that came from rotting fish mixed with the salt from the sea, which, together with the scene before my eyes, brought a sense of déjà vu. Surveying the scene: the splash of colours that the boats brought to the white of the sand of the beach, as well as the grey and brown of newer nets sitting next to those yellowed by through use, it did seem indeed that it was one that I had once been familiar with. It is probably a scene that is typical of the many fishing villages that can be found all over the Malay Archipelago, typical of Singapore once, but out of place in the modern metropolis much of Singapore has become.

The sight and smell of the fishing nets at Jimbaran, brought with it a reminiscence of a forgotten Singapore.

Baskets on the beach.

For a brief moment, I did forget where I was, as I weaved my way through nets and baskets, gratefully drawing in with each breath, a smell which I would otherwise not have found too pleasing. I had imagined that I was back where I might have once been, watching the boats as they came ashore to be greeted by the small crowd which had gathered in anticipation of having the first pick of the slippery silvery harvest that came with each boat. For that brief moment, I felt that I was home again, home amongst the sights and smells I had once taken for granted.

Fishing Boats at East Coast Beach, 1976. For a brief moment I was transported to a scene from the Singapore of old, similar to this.

Around the beach at Jimbaran:

Fisherman tending to their equipment on Jimbaran Beach. Sights similar to this would have been common in the coastal fishing villages of Singapore.

Fisherman at Jimbaran, Bali.

An outrigger stabilised fishing boat.

A close up of the baskets.

The beach at Jimbaran, Bali. The sight of colourful fishing boats on the beach somehow makes me feel at home. A common sight in much of the Malay Archipelago, it was once common on the beaches of Singapore as well.

Grown men prancing on cardboard horses: Kuda Kepang

It may have been just a coincidence, but it was really uncanny that having just got back from a break, just before which some recollections of the first Kuda Kepang performance I had witnessed some forty years back came back to me, that I stumbled upon one that was taking place below a block of flats in a part of Woodlands that I had not until yesterday visited. It was as if the spirits that are said to possess the performers had led me there to feed the memories I was starting to recall of that first moment that I had seen a Kuda Kepang dance. Kuda Kepang is a traditional dance that is performed by members of the Malay community in Singapore using painted cut-outs in the shape of horses. The dance is believed to have some of its origins in the retelling of stories from the Hindu epics of the Ramayana and Mahabharata in Java, is performed accompanied by the dizzying strains of a Gamelan orchestra. It was at one time, a popular feature at Malay weddings, especially in the kampongs, and it seemed to me to have disappeared from Singapore together with the kampongs that had once been a feature of Singapore life – or so I had thought …

A Kuda Kepang performance seen in Woodlands - my first experience of Kuda Kepang was more than forty years ago in the setting of a coastal Malay kampong that has long disappeared.

Masks that are used in the later part of the performance.

The very first time I had come across the dance was when I was maybe three, in a part of Singapore that we have long lost – the Tanah Merah area, on which I was trying to piece some memories together on. It was a part of the world that I would on occasion pass through – my parents were fond of taking holidays in the government bungalows that were available in the area. What had defined the Tanah Merah area was the hilly ground which overlooked the sea and besides the Malay kampongs present, there were also some magnificent villas, including one owned by David Marshall. It was, passing through one of the kampongs, Kampong Ayer Gemuruh, that, while peering out of the open window of my father’s Austin 1100, what seemed to be grown men playing on what would have appeared to be toy horses caught my eye. My father pulled the car over so that we were able to get out and observe the performance from the side of the road from where we could glance down towards the sandy clearing where there were indeed grown men on painted white horses that seemed to be made of cardboard or plywood. We could see them prancing and twisting around to the strains of the Gamelan that we could faintly hear, each astride a cardboard horse of which my first impression was that they were like the stick horses I had seen at the Robinson’s toy department.

My first impression of Kuda Kepang was that it was grown men engaging in child's play.

I had, through much of my childhood, been intrigued by the Kuda Kepang. My maternal grandmother, who I was very close to and had originally come from Java, had herself held a fascination for the dance and there were several occasions when we stopped to watch a performance when we did see one in passing by a Malay wedding. That was despite a friend of hers warning us that we shouldn’t watch it. The friend, who we referred to as “Bibik Boyan”, “Bibik” being a term used to address a senior lady, much like the term “auntie” is used in Singapore, and “Boyan” due to her ancestry being traced to the Boyanese as folks from Bawean Island off east Java were referred to, would drop in a few times each week to keep my grandmother company as well as to help her out with the laundry. It was through her warnings that I first heard of the association of spirit possession with Kuda Kepang. This somehow only served to heighten the sense of intrigue that I had for the dance, and it was only when going to school kept me busy that I stopped taking notice of it, and slowly over the years, the memories I had of it had been stored away until the recent recollection that I had.

Dancers are seen to go into a trance like state and make movements that seem to be guided by another force.

Watching a performance of the dance, it isn’t difficult to imagine it having a spirit possession dimension. The dance involves movements that have symbolic values that would have originated from the animistic practices of the people of pre-Hindu Java. Throughout the dance, the performers seem to move in a trance like state, their movements guided seemingly by a force other than their own. It is said that in some of the forms that Kuda Kepang takes, dancers are fed with pieces of broken glass, grass and other objects which do them no harm. In some cases, the dance is said to even be able to heal the sick. Whether or not this is true, the dance is certainly mysterious as it is captivating and watching a little portion of it yesterday, I felt like that three year old boy again, staring down at the fascinating scene before my eyes.

The movements of the dancers is guided by the dizzying strains of the accompanying gamelan.

A few more photographs of the Kuda Kepang performance that were hastily taken in the rain:

An adventure on the “high seas”

In today’s age of air travel, it would probably be difficult for many of us to want to embark on a journey between continents that might have taken weeks, or even a journey between cities in the region taking at least a few days, other than when one is perhaps considering going on a leisurely cruise. There was a time however, when such a journey would have had to be made out of necessity and not to indulge oneself in leisure as we would be inclined to these day. It was perhaps in the 1970s when air travel became accessible (and affordable) to many, and up to that point, travel between the regional ports would have probably been made aboard a cargo liner on which passengers were allowed to be carried on.

The M.V. Kimanis and several other cargo liners owned by the Straits Steamship Company plied the route between Borneo and the Malayan Peninsula (Source: W.A. Laxon, The Straits Steamship Fleets).

This was a time when just the thought of a voyage by sea might have evoked the romantic notion of travelling in style and luxury that is associated with the ocean liners of the North Atlantic. Indeed, for the well heeled, the leisurely journey might have been taken in lavishly decorated cabins, whilst being waited on by a steward dressed in all whites, in a setting, as I was told, could be compared to one in a Joseph Conrad novel. For the less well off, there would have been a choice of a more modest second class cabin which would have been comfortable enough for the journey; or, in a less than comfortable third class dormitory like cabin (if there were any – many of the ships coming from India had this), or perhaps as a deck passenger. A passage as a deck passenger would be unheard of these days, especially with the adoption of the International Ship and Port Security (ISPS) Code – one of a slew of measures implemented in the wake of the 9-11 attacks. Back then, it would have been a cheap and practical means of getting about, with deck passengers having to brave the elements during the passage on the open deck or perhaps, where the situation might have allowed it, in the cargo holds.

The M.V. Kimanis was a 90 metre long, 3189 ton, cargo liner built in Dundee in 1951 and was in the Straits Steamship fleet up to 1982.

One of the local shipping companies that ran a passenger service was the now defunct Straits Steamship Company. The Singapore based company was founded in 1890 and at its height, operated a fleet of 53 vessels, plying routes that connected ports in the Malayan peninsula, including Singapore with ports in the far flung corners of British Borneo. Many of the ports in Borneo would have had names steeped in the history of the rule of the British and the White Rajahs (in Sarawak), such as Jesselton (now Kota Kinabalu). Many of the ships that the company operated had themselves been named after the ports which the company served.

A subsidiary of Straits Steamship Company started Malayan Airways, which later became MSA and was split into two entities, Singapore Airlines and Malaysian Airline System.

By the time the 1970s had arrived, air travel had taken root and demand for passenger travel by sea had diminished (incidentally, it was a subsidiary of the Straits Steamship Company, that started Malayan Airways, the predecessor to Malaysia-Singapore Airlines (MSA), from which both Malaysian Airline System (MAS) and Singapore Airlines (SIA) were born). The Straits Steamship Company thus promoted passenger travel on the ships they operated for leisure (as a cheaper alternative to the one offered on the M.V. Rasa Sayang which was then offering cruises on the Malacca Straits and around the Indonesian Islands before being sold off a year or so after a tragic fire killed a few crew members in 1977), offering a window into a world of a forgotten age of sea travel. The cost of was a very affordable $80 for the three day return trip to Port Swettenham (or Port Klang as the port had just been renamed as), and it was on such a voyage, aboard one of the Straits Steamship’s vessels, the M.V. Kimanis, that I had an opportunity to have that experience, not once, but twice in 1975.

On the main deck of the Kimanis.

The first voyage that I had on the Kimanis would best be described as an adventure of a lifetime. It had been my very first experience on board a ship and one in which provided me with a view, not just into what life was on board, but also a first hand experience of the stories that I had heard of a voyage on what seemed to me, the “high seas”. It was a voyage that began one evening from Clifford Pier, and via a launch that took us out from the Inner Roads to the Outer Roads and the Eastern Anchorage, where the M.V. Kimanis was anchored. Arriving at the accommodation ladder of the davit rigged black vessel, which featured three white deckhouses, it was with some difficulty that we got onto the ladder having to contend with the violent rolling and heaving of the launch, needing the assistance of the receiving crew members of the Kimanis. I still remember being quite afraid of falling in – even as I was ascending the ladder to the main deck of the vessel.

Wandering around the main deck of the Kimanis was an adventure in itself.

Once onboard, we were greeted by the Chief Steward, a Hainanese man with a greying head of hair, decked in a starched white shirt with epaulettes that seemed to extend up from his shoulders, and brought to our cabins by a steward. The second class cabins we were to stay in were on the next deck above, located along the ship’s side, and had tiny portholes from which we could have a view of the numerous ships that lay at anchor. The cabins were modestly furnished, two single bunks, a rattan chair and dresser, a wardrobe and a wash basin. Showers were to be taken and visits to the toilet were to be made in the communal washrooms arranged on the centreline at the aft end of the alleyway. A door at this end on the aft bulkhead opened to an open deck which also provided access to the main deck below and the deck above. Right at the after end of the next deck was an open deck with an awning that offered partial shelter from the elements on which a bar counter was located, with tables and chairs that formed an open air lounge area. That was where passengers would sit and exchange stories and I remember a man who had started his journey in Tawau with quite a few interesting stories to tell. I can’t remember any of them, but what I do remember very vividly was how he looked – he wore the scars of burns to his face very prominently. We had also on that voyage, met a very friendly and talkative Australian man, from whom I had first heard of what we call the papaya being referred to as a “paw-paw”. He also introduced to a gourd to us which he said was delicious, which he referred to as a choko – which we would later discover was also planted in the Cameron Highlands.

The bar area where passengers exchanged stories.

Besides lounging around at the bar, the day long voyage to Port Klang provided an opportunity for my sister and me to roam the main deck – I was fascinated by the vents that seemed to rise like trumpets out onto the main deck. Somehow, I had imagined them to be sound pipes through which the men working below decks could communicate with crew on the main deck. Meal times were particularly interesting and a steward would alert passengers to meal times by walking through the accommodation area ringing a bell, which would trigger a procession of children following the steward around as if he was the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Meals were served very formally and besides having to dress appropriately for meals, we had to pay careful attention to table etiquette. That was also the first occasion in which I was to be confronted by the intimidating array of cutlery on the table. I quickly learnt the trick for navigating through the cutlery, starting from the outside in as each course was served.

Meal times were particularly interesting on board the Kimanis. A typical menu (Source: W.A. Laxon, The Straits Steamship Fleets).

Arriving at Port Klang, we were greeted by the sight of the wharf side container cranes, which I imagined to be chairs of giants, half expecting to meet a giant on the passage into port. Tugs boats appeared as the ship was guided into port, and went alongside, as I looked forward in anticipation of being able to go ashore. It was on this particular trip that we first visited Genting Highlands, taking a bus into Kuala Lumpur where we could catch a taxi to Genting. I remembered the journey down quite well for the way the taxi driver negotiated the hairpin bends at a seemingly high speed, and as a result, my mother swore never to take a taxi to Genting again! The stay in Port Klang which had been scheduled for one day, spilled over into a second day. We were told that there was always a slowdown for one reason or another at the port – and so we were to have a four day stay on board for the price of three days!

Up on the Bridge - the children on board were given a treat by the Scottish Captain who allowed each of us to handle the helm for about a minute or so.

Little did I know it then, it was on the return voyage to Singapore that the children on board were in for a treat. The ship’s Captain, a Scotsman, invited us children up to view the Bridge, and provided each of us with the chance to be at the helm where we could have a hand in steering the ship. While this experience lasted maybe only for a minute or so, it was certainly a big treat leaving a big impression on me, and at that moment, I decided that I did not want to be a pilot that I seemed to always have wanted to be, and instead thought that it would be more my cup of tea to sail the seven seas and see the world at the same time. I was to have a second experience on the Kimanis later that same year, one which perhaps, I would devote another post to. However, it was this first experience that was to be the one that I would most remember.

A change of view in the glow of pink

Pole dancing is perhaps finding it difficult to gain social acceptance and the respect it deserves as a dance form and as a great workout, given the negative connotations that are associated with it. The perception we have of pole dancing is very much influenced by how the mass media has chosen to portray it. Much of what we see of pole dancing in the movies, immediately gives us the impression of gyrating scantily clad women taking off their clothes on a dimly lit bar top or floor, such as was the case in the 1996 movie Striptease starring Demi Moore. More recently, the recent exposé stirring the controversy surrounding this year’s Miss USA, Rima Fakih, revolves around the perception that is created by such movies, however innocent it may have been.

Defying gravity around a pole: Pole dancing as a dnace form suffers from the negative portrayal of it in the mass media.

Pole dancing routines require dancers a great deal of strength and dexterity.

I recently had an opportunity to have my own perceptions changed of the dance form, having been invited to do a photo shoot of a group of graduating pole dancers. So, armed with my trusty camera, I braved my way around the swirling mass of women who seemed to defy gravity with their every move in the pink glow of the studio. On another day, the pink glow may have masked the blush that would have been brought about by the embarrassment of being in the company of women with muscles in places where I did not seem to have any, but the distraction offered by the sight of the fluid and graceful movements around the pole was enough to make me forget about my embarrassment. While there is an element of sexiness in some of the moves that were made by the women, much of the routines they did would certainly require a great deal of skill and strength, as is evident in the well toned bodies of the pole dancers that would be the envy of many. I was told that many who do join in the classes, do it for the great workout pole dancing provides – especially for the abs and upper body.

Pole dancing does wonders for your abs and upper body.

Interestingly, pole dancing has been growing in popularity in Singapore, something that was quite ignorant about, and featured in last year’s National Day Parade (not without controversy)! There certainly isn’t much I can find wrong with men (yes men do it too!) and women in figure hugging and what some would say, skimpy outfits, dancing around a pole. If we are to see this as a sleazy activity that should be confined to adults only bars, then I guess we shouldn’t be watching sports such as diving, gymnastics and even beach volleyball as well. There would be those who would be inspired by the great bodies that you see in the photographs, and if you are, you can certainly work your way towards it too! You can sign up for lessons at Bobbi’s Pole Studio, which is at the former Catholic High School building in Queen Street. Do visit their website for further information: www.bobbispolestudio.com.sg. For those who are need a little convincing, one hour trial lessons are also offered at the studio.

Bobbi's Pole Studio at 222 Oueen Street offers pole dancing classes.

Poetry in motion at Bobbi's.

More photographs from the pole dancing classes at Bobbi’s …

Warming up for a pole dancing revolution?

Listening to the song of the sea

Sitting by a beach over the past week and listening to the sound of the waves lapping up the shore, took me back to that wonderful part of my childhood spent by the sea. It was not that I lived by the sea, but it did seem that I was never far from it, having had many wonderous moments in my early childhood along the eastern shores of Singapore. Besides the sandy Changi shoreline, to which I was introduced to at a very early age, there was another part of Singapore close to Changi, in which I had some wonderful experiences. That was where we would sometimes holiday at, a picturesque and idyllic part of Singapore that has since been lost to the massive land reclamation project that has altered much of the eastern coastline. In those days, holidays were rarely taken out of Singapore, and the government bungalows located amongst the coastal fishing villages that dotted the then shoreline running up from around where the southern boundary of Changi Airport is today up to what was the Tanah Merah area which is today right smack in the middle of Changi Ariport, were popular with many, as it was with my parents.

Spending a week by the beach brought me back in time to the wonderful moments I had by a seaside in Singapore that has long been forgotten.

The times we spent by the sea were magical ones, and somehow it was where I never seemed to be bored, which may have been reason enough for my parents to make the regular visits to the seaside that they did, given the restless soul that I was. But, my parents were themselves very fond of the seaside, and by day, the seaside was where we would often go to splash around in the sea. The sand was where I often ended up on, building sandcastles or digging pits in the sand with my spade and pail, which when close to the water’s edge, would fill up with water in which I could spend hours sitting in. Those were the days when sun block was unheard of and the most I would have on to protect myself from the sun was a hat or cap, and the hours spent in the sun always resulted in a painful sunburn, a week after which would be followed by a peeling of skin on the face, arms and back – areas which would have been most exposed to the sun. Somehow, getting sunburnt seemed to be part of the fun, although, I had a fair skinned friend who had it so bad that he had painful blisters on his back, following which his mother never allowed him into the sun again without a tee-shirt on. Playing by the sea did have other dangers besides getting sunburnt – on one occasion, a storm had been brewing and a few friends I was with had resisted many attempts by our parents to persuade us to take shelter. Somehow, we did heed the call and took shelter in one of the wooden huts which beachgoers could rent for the day, and it wasn’t a moment too soon that we did that, for the very moment we had huddled in the safety of the huts, there was a flash of light accompanied by a loud bang! Lightning had struck the very spot that my friends and I had been playing at.

Changi Beach, 1965. I had an early introduction to the Sun, the Sand and the Sea.

The evenings by the sea had a magic of its own, and sitting around a fire built on twigs and leaves picked from the shore and fanned by the stiff cool land breeze. It would be where stories were exchanged by the older folks as the delicious aroma of the fruits harvested from the sea being singed by the flames rose from the fire. It was were we would stt for hours on the straw mats that we would have bought from the many vendors that we would have met on the beach, watching the flames reduced to ambers, and staring at the starry night sky from where Orion would cast his spell on me, accompanied by the soothing song of the sea.

I have always since the early introduction I had, been drawn to the seaside.

Much of what had given me that experience is lost today. Much of Changi Beach, which was by far was the best sandy stretch of beach in Singapore, has also disappeared, with only a short natural stretch of it left near the Teluk Paku area. Where we could once sit and listen to the sound of lapping waves in the shade of katapang trees to a view of tall coconut trees leaning to the sea, and rows of casurina trees that lined the shoreline, we now have to contend with the overly crowded man made beaches that over time are eaten up by the sea, listening not to lapping waves but to the rattle of the hoardes of people that descend onto the shoreline at the unnaturally landscaped East Coast Park.

The seaside is a wonderful place to start or end the day with.

As I grew up, I would always be drawn to the seaside, not so much to the ones we have here, but to places further afield. There are some, which from time to time I have the chance to see, where I could sit and listen as I always would to the song of the sea, that would bring me back to the wonderous days at a lost seaside that was much closer to home, back to a time and a place that can only be but a distant memory.

There is nothing more relaxing than listening to the sound of the lapping of waves against the shore.

The coconut fringed seaside at San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. I have been drawn to the seaside, wherever I find myself in. There are some like this one, that would bring me back in time and to a place that is only a distant memory.

The cicak sandwich that I almost had

Reading Derek Tait’s post on the subject of “Chit-chats”, I was reminded of my own childhood experiences with the gecko or cicak, as I was used to calling them. Amazed by their ability to remain stuck high on the walls and ceilings, cicaks captured my imagination as a child. I could lie, sometimes on my bed, sometimes on the sofa, or mostly on the floor, and spend a lot of time watching them darting across the walls and ceilings of my home. I had often wished that I had the ability to do what cicaks were capable of doing so that I could avoid taking the dreaded ride in the less than reliable lift that served the block of flats that I lived in. It was something that I was keen to avoid, having once been stuck in it, albeit only for that brief moment before the lift decided on its own to move again. The half a minute of total darkness, was one that I would not forget, it was a moment when in the darkness that had engulfed the lift car I felt a sense of total helplessness, one that I had not experienced before. Subsequent lift journeys were always accompanied by a sense of trepidation at the possibility of the experience repeating itself. Living next to the lift landing not help matters as hearing the all too frequent sound of the lift alarm only heightened the dread that I had for taking the lift. If only, I had thought, I could be like a cicak, I could be spared that journey to get up to my flat on the nineteenth floor that I so dreaded.

Geckos provided my with quite a fair bit of fun in my childhood.

Another thing  that fascinated me about cicaks was their ability to leave a wriggling tail behind at the merest hint of trouble. Despite my mother’s efforts to remind me not to chase the resident geckos around and risk them moving to a safer place (they did help in keeping the population of insects in check), I never failed later in my childhood to be able to resist the  fun I derived from running around with a wad of newspapers or a stick, which I did to persuade the poor cicaks to part with their tails that the ants would later carry away.

For all the encounters I had with cicaks in my early childhood, it was one that I had later in life that I would remember the most. I had, by the time I was in upper primary school, developed a habit of eating a slice of bread straight out of its wrapper, folding it in half before taking a bite out of it. On one occasion when in doing just that, I had a shock of my life – a cicak wriggled free from in between the folded slice of bread that I held in my hand, landing on my arm, just as I had bit into the slice of bread. I must have been millimetres away from taking a bite out of the terrified cicak and having a cicak sandwich for my breakfast!

My swinging sixties

As with all children, one of my favourite places as a child was the playground. It was nice that I had access to a very large and interesting one that was right at my doorstep – so to speak Right at the foot of the block of flats in Toa Payoh that I lived in, there was a playground like no other in Singapore. It was large (in terms of the space it occupied) for a playground, especially one that was in a HDB estate. Set in a large oval shaped area that was bounded by a wide red brick path that for me later doubled up as the cycling track on which I made my first shaky attempts at riding a bicycle, the playground had all a child of those days could have wished for in a playground. There were the set of swings which had very long chains that allowed me to swing up to a height that many fear to go to, a very tall slide (and a shorter one for the faint hearted), three see-saws, two wonderful climbers made of steel, a merry-go-round, and a set of monkey bars, all of which seemed to be able to keep a five year old occupied for hours.

The climbers and slides were lots of fun!

The playground was were I could escape the confines of the small three-room flat that I lived in, at a time when we as chlldren, did not have access to the distractions that occupy the children of today. Television only came on in the late afternoons and evenings and there was only so much fun that one could have with the toys we had in those days. So, the playground was wonderland for me, as it was for the children of my day, where I could expand my energy and pass the otherwise long boring hours away.

The wide red brick path around the playground and the merry-go-round.

The swings for me were particularly enjoyable. High and fast I could go, especially standing on the wooden seat of the swing, or maybe induce a dizzying spell of nausea by twisting the chains for that rush of adrenaline that came from sitting on the seat as the chains untwisted really fast. I had many hours of fun that I always ranked the swing as my favourite item in any playground. The climbers that were there were a whole lot of fun too. I had not seen anything like them before I moved into Toa Payoh – there was a really high one in the shape of a globe, the summit of which many dared not venture to, and there was another shaped like a wave. It was perched at the top of them where I could imagine that I had scaled Mount Everest, as one of the heroes I had in my boyhood, Sir Edmund Hilary had done. It was where I could sometimes sit and dream the hours away.

Then and now. The photo on the left shows part of the playground in 1969. The one on the right is how the area looks today.

The playgrounds were certainly a very different experience from the ones we see today. Plastic and synthetic materials have replaced the wood and concrete we had back then. Our children hit the safer and softer flooring where we landed hard on concrete or a pit of sand sliding down a metal or wooden slide that always gave a familiar smell of rust on our clothes and the occasional splinter in our shorts. Who could forget the rust stained hands we got holding on to the chains of the swings, standing on the wooden see-saws that thought us much about the principle of levers and balances. The playground at Block 53 that holds so many memories for me is now gone, along with the many things I identified with growing up, replaced by the modular plastic ones that are so common today. The wonderful space at which I found some much to do in, has also gone, only a small part of that large play area that I looked forward to visiting everyday in my pre-school days used to house that modular playground. The rest is sadly occupied by structures that seem to be of little value or use that have somehow risen in the wonderful open spaces that no longer seem to be of value to the modern country that we live in.

The playground with Lorong 4, the Lorong 4 market, and Lorong 3 in the background (scan of a postcard courtesy of David Jess James - On a Little Street in Singapore).