Chinese New Year Shopping

For some reasons, one's Chinese New Year preparations is not complete until one visits Chinatown. At least thought a number, judging from the congestion in the multistorey carpark where I park my car. This spells good news to the vendors in Chinatown.

Taking the opportunity to find out what's new, especially in the makan (food) goodies and the flowers, I went on my prowl. I was too early, then, for the makan goodies. But they certainly got me on my memory trail of the days when neighbours and relatives would be making their own kueh-kueh (cakes) and sharing them, or selling them. One would start keeping the used tins, like the big Milo tins (a favourite) and the plastic containers too.


While the nyonyas (the Peranakans) fancied more complicated kueh2, the others, depending on the dialect groups, might opt for their own. I think the Cantonese loved to make kok-jai (a mini curry puff lookalike with grounded peanuts and sugar inside). One of the more popular ones could be the "love letters". I still wonder if anyone had inserted love-letters in these thin crust. In the old days, I remember watching, and well helping out in making these thin pancake-like crust-like kueh. In Hokkien, I think it is called kuey-nern-gern (meaning rolled eggs). One spreaded a thin layer of flour dough onto the circular plated and then closing it with a similar plate, it is placed on a charcoal fire. It gets cooked easily and with a flip, it is done. The tricky part is using your hands to roll them when they are hot and still soft.

As kids we love to put these rolled love-letters as if they were cigars.

These days, less and less people are indulging in the making of these kueh-kueh. And there are dozens of them available in the market. Definitely cheaper that what one would have spent in making them. But maybe, they lack the loving touch.


For those who can afford, especially those in business, getting potted plants with fruits and flowers are a must. Each year, the florists try to bring in more varieties. If there is anything that links the Chinese of Singapore to that of China, the plants could well be one of the links. Pussy willows are only endemic to China. The plum-blossoms - the plum blooms in late winter - are amongst one of the popular ones. One puts them in a giant vase and watch the flowers bloom and possibly the leaves sprouting. And that's it. There are also the narcissus - shui xian - that the Chinese have a way of carving the bulbs to make them bloom earlier, especially in the hot climate in Singapore.

The kumquat - kumkat or kajai in Cantonese - is an all time favourite with businesses and temples. Possibly because of the word "kum" which is synonymous with Gold in Cantonese. There was one belief that if one wants to have a baby boy, one should steal a kumquat fruit from someone's plant. But in modern day Singapore, it could well be an offence! (^^)

To many Cantonese at home, they would start early, probably a month or so before the Chinese New Year, to buy a few chi-ku 慈姑 (in Cantonese for arrowhead) and plant them in a shallow bowl of water and pebbles. Anyone knows its significance? Chi-ku is a favourite bulb cooked in soups by the Cantonese.

Probably all Chinese would hang the red banner across the main front of the house. More religiously so in doing it were the Peranakans. But with flats these days, it is getting rare and the red banners could be shrunk to just cover the doorway. In the old days, it would be red banners, red clothings, yes, red packets, and plenty of red in the fire-crackers. Red date tea was also served. So, you can imagine the "old fashion" elders seeing red when they saw the kids wearing black!

Metropole Cinema, Kum Wah, Kim Hua 金華

Thanks to the memory jots from Algae and Moon, I decided to run down my little memory lane about Kum Wah (in Cantonese) or Kim Hua (in Hokkien). And in English, Metropole Cinema (you can see a picture of it in LaoKokok's blog).

I vaguely remember wandering around that area when they were building this almost circular building. I was curious, but not as curious as with the fish tanks in the nearby open-air fish-shop. It was still beyond my means to buy fishes from the fish shop, I was still in the primary school then. But I could spend hours watching them. And I would gaze at the building with the pole scaffording.

It was a new cinema in Chinatown! I suppose the first could be Majestic (Dai Hua in Hokkien), and then, Oriental (Tong Hong in Hokkien) at the corner of Kreta Ayer St with New Bridge Rd. If my memories did not fail me, a worker during the building of the Metropole Cinema fell and died. It was hearsay as I was still too young and poor to have access to the newspapers. And soon, there was rumour of ghosts. (^^)

But that did not deter the cinema goers from going to watch great Cantonese movies like "Yi Lai Shang Cheong" (The Buddha Hand - a famous gongfu force then) and Mu Lam Sap Sam Keen (The thirteen swordsmen?).

As we grew older and moved to another part of Chinatown, and getting more immersed in the English speaking world, our world was cinemas like Globe (Great World), Orchard (now the Orchard Cinemaplex), Odean and Cathay.

And without realising it, one day I walked by and saw Metropole Cinema being replaced by Fairfield Methodist Church. At one point in my life, my house was very close to the original Fairfield Methodist Church and Girls' School. Until this day, the uniform of Fairfield Girls' School, now Fairfield School (for boys and girls), has been and is still, I think, unique in colour. I couldn't help thinking if this is Methodist churches' colour. (^^)

When our kids came of age, our natural consideration was to get them to attend the kindergarten in Fairfield Church. Ah, and so, we got the opportunity to sit in what was once a cinema. But this time, it was more of a theatre, and well, a chapel, where we got to see our children performed in their graduation night.

And so, in various ways, for people like us who lived in this part of Chinatown, that building - be it Metropole Cinema or Fairfield Methodist Church - it has a part in our lives. And for some, it's still to come. (^^)

Chinatown prepares to welcome the Year of the Rat

Or should it be the Year of the Mouse, the Mickey Mouse to be more accurate? (^^) Yes, Chinatown is decorated with the likes of Mickey Mouse in welcoming yet another new year. The year of the Rat starts another new cycle, and from what we know about rats - there were plenty in Chinatown - it would be tough to romanticise the rats. And so Mickey Mouse came to the rescue. A friend was wondering aloud, why not Mighty Mouse?

To many Singaporeans, and even Malaysians, visiting Chinatown just before the Chinese New Year seem to be a must. Despite the availability of anything Chinese in all the satellite towns, Chinatown has its special draw. The rows of old shophouses, despite their changing uses, give that aura of the Chinatown that most older Singaporeans would remember. To the young, it might be something different, maybe akin to the Universal Studios. I was jokingly telling my fella Chinatown residents that perhaps we should have some gongfu hustle kind of shows in the midst of the festivities, to add to the touch of the "real" Chinatown. (^^) Imagine someone flying out of the third floor landing onto a basket of, no, not durians. (^^) It would be a delight to the MICE tourists. Ah, there is a mouse connection here.

It is the time when grandpa and grandma would love to bring the kids, especially, the grandchildren to show what they must buy for the Chinese New Year. Alas, this year, the wet market could not return on time. So, a separate trip has to be made to its temporary place at Outram Park. But, there's still the waxed ducks and all kinds of sausages. To the Cantonese, these are some of the prerequisites for Chinese New Year. But wait, this year, there seems to be something missing. At least when I did my last recce, I missed seeing the man sawing the Yunnan Ham!

What's left of the core Chinatown - at the heart where most of the businesses are being held - is probably the ares served by Pagoda St, Temple St, Trengganu St, Smith St and Sago Lane/Rd. The Giao-Keng-Kau (Outside the Gambling Den(?) in Hokkien) is a shade of its past, where the current China St and Nankin St are. The Teochiu Kuay (Teochiu St) is now Central.


In this small area, the vendors compete for their business, some for the tourists and the rest for the locals. At this time, those who are preparing for the Chinese New Year. Flowers and fruits - the very important Mandarin Oranges - Kum in Cantonese, with similar sound as Gold, are beginning to appear. Tidbits to keep the mouths of visitors to the homes busy are in full display - red and black melon seeds, groundnuts, mua-chee (mochi or dafuku in Japanese) and all sorts of sweets. Chinese New Year songs - in Mandarin and in Hokkien - blare from the loudspeakers beckoning the shoppers to get some home.

Chinese New Year must be noisy and red - have you read or heard about the story of how the word Nian came about? And how fire-crackers were used to frighten the Nian away? It hates Red. And the Chinese congratulate each other "Kiong Hee, Kiong Hee" (in Hokkien and Kong Hee in Cantonese), meaning to congratulate each other for not being eaten by Nian. And so the story went.

What was not so visible in Chinatown these days must be the clothing and shoes. These were the essentials that Mum used to drag us kids, each holding the hand of the other tightly, in the claustophobic crowd (remember we were tiny then) to try out and buy, often the last few days before Chinese New Year. And that is if Pa has brought back the "Huay-Ang" (Bonus). Was it a way to force us to at least do something, apart from being poor? Chinese New Year, to us kids, was the time when we got to wear new cloths! Each having his or her own. The rest of the time would be "hand me downs". And yes, shoes too! That would also be the time when we could have bottled drinks - the bigger and rounder Fraser & Neave Orange and Sarsi. To the adults, again, Orange drink (Kum ma) is a must. To the kids, we would fancy the Cherry, which is red and Sarsi was a sensation.

And so, in a couple of days, Chinese New Year will arrive (7 Feb 08). Until then, shopping will get into a frenzy state, no matter how bad the stock exchange graphs might look. (^^) New Year will bring new luck and prosperity!

Nihon Ryori Ikaga desuka?

A couple of weeks ago, after what seemed like an endless loop or was it getting into a time zone, we arrived at the carpark of Central. Our target, the Waraku Japanese Restaurant. It is a hip place with the younger people.

Entering the restaurant and looking at the young people chatting away and enjoying the traditional and modern Japanese dishes, it reminded me of Japan. This restaurant was no different from any of a similar restaurant in Shibuya, Tokyo or Shinjuku. But what got me thinking was that these days, there are many Japanese eateries all over Singapore, practically at least one in every shopping centre, and probably in every food court too. When I did an informal count in 1989, we could count some 40 Sushi restaurants.

In the old days, let's see, maybe in the 60s, Japanese restaurants were rare. I could always remember the picture of Mount Fuji outside this little Japanese Restaurant along New Bridge Road, somewhere near to Bukit Pasoh. Each time as I walked towards the inner Chinatown (the likes of Smith Street and Trengganu Street), I would pass this little restaurant. I was curious but never dared to go near. One could hardly see what was inside. But I vividly remember this restaurant as Sakura Restaurant. I wonder if the owners have moved their restaurant elsewhere in the 70s. Maybe some of the older folks might know a little more about this restaurant.

My first Sashimi - ah, Maguro as I learnt much later - was indeed in the Japanese Association Restaurant. It was in 1973 or thereabout, my first encounter working with a Japanese engineer, when he invited me and my colleague to a Japanese dinner. Wah, Sukiyaki and Maguro. It was an experience trying to down the raw tuna, and eating cooked beef with raw eggs. Ask my kids now, and they would go for them without a second thought. But of course, it was Papa's fault. (^^)

My only regret was not being able to know a little more about this little Japanese restaurant in Chinatown. Anyone knows?

Tim Sum at Red Star

Two Sundays ago, looking for something more Chinese, or rather, more Cantonese for breakfast with a visiting Chinese, a friend suggested Red Star Restaurant. It was ages - decades - since the last time I was there. The last time could well be a wedding dinner, and that must be more than 20 years ago!

To my (ignorant) surprise, when I went to the restaurant on this fateful Sunday, there was a long queue for a table, at 10.30am! I thought the trend of Tim Sum (Dian Xin) since the day of the Mayflower Restaurant (and the like) was gone. In this quiet multi-storey carpark along Chin Swee Road, next to Manhattan House, one could never imagine the buzz of what's happening inside the restaurant. You could well be in a restaurant in HongKong or even the Chinatown restaurant of San Francisco - the commonality of Chinatowns around the world?

There were trolleys of yummy Tim Sum being pushed by the waitresses, pushing their wares - I mean food. Before we knew, our table was laden with all kinds of Tim Sum. Ah, my favourite Chilli YongTauFu (Niang Dou Fu) was still there. I remember them as not spicy in the Tim Sum restaurants and I still wonder what was the secret. The Pei-Tang-Chok (Pitan - century egg - Porridge) was still as delicious!

What might have been just Poh Lei or Luk Poh (in Cantonese) in the old days, on that Sunday, the waitress asked if we want Pu Erh tea.

As I ate, my thoughts strayed in the midst of the din of clashing of cups, plates, bowls and the calling out of various dishes - Lo oi wu-gok moi? (you want the deep fried taro?) Ha-kau? Siew-Mai? Fong-Chao? Gosh, it must have been in the 1960s when the dirty backlanes off Smith Street was still clogged with tables and chairs, placed in any way that could fit in the limited space. They were practically there the whole day and possibly night.

In those days, with friends in the neighbourhood, we tried saving from our pocket money. Once we have thirty cents, we were ready for our food adventure. The language of communication in the restaurant then was mostly Cantonese. And so, we learnt the key words. We looked for a spare table and chairs, and before we could sit, the for-kei (waiter) came upon us, with a no-nonsense look (and not too friendly nor courteous) - remember we were kids - asking what we wanted. He had brought along a small enamel bowl filled with boiling water, tea cups and chopsticks in them, and a pot of Chinese tea. "Law-Ma-Kai leong kor," we ordered, asking for two glutinous rice. We got free Chinese tea.

Looking back, we often gazed at the noisy orders that the for-kei would bark across the lane. And there could be a few of them shouting orders back to the "command-post". They have colourful ways of giving the numbers so as to avoid distortion or data loss due to the noisy environment. Seven could well be spoken as "leh-pai", which is Sunday. It could be even more hilarious if you hear them describe the customers to be served. (^^)

Efforts are being made to bring back the scene in the lanes, but I still cherished the wonderful dirty days when the boiling water was the guarantee of a safe meal. Traces of such practice are still present to these days.

And if you want to enjoy the great Tim Sum in Red Star on a Sunday morning, go early. I understand that they don't accept reservations. By the way, the carpark is free.

The Old Playground

Each time I took a short cut, which is rather rare these days, walking from the Oriental Theatre to Yan Kit Swimming Pool, using the old railway line turned into park, I could not help remembering the young days.

This has been the route for me to go to school and back, and to play with friends in the "Tng Tiam Hung" kampung. There were always the dogs to be fearful of. We kids were oblivious to the steady streams of trishaws making their trips to and from Keong Saik St. (^^)

Ah, the story would be too long to tell in one blog posting. I was just passing by the bridge over the old railway line when I noticed that the sign board on the Chin Woo Athletic Association was still there. Ah, my French friend is still practising his Taiji there with the master from this Association although he does not speak any Cantonese or Mandarin.

In my younger days, I was living at 29 Craig Rd (ah for posterity, I have better put my address here less later I can no longer remember and I missed the bid to get the road name from LTA!) and that was the side of the street that only have bucket system!

Cooped up in a tiny room and not allowed to make noise - you can imagine those noisy floor planks that creaked all the time - by our fierce Bibik, we only had the open air to scream our lungs out. And so, we went to this park. I could still remember the days when they screen movies open air. And there even a performance by Anita Sarawak!

Somehow, we kids got to know the kids along the street. Particularly one opposite to our house, where they made wooden swords for gungfu practice. Talk about child labour, we would gladly volunteer to polish the cut swords with sandpaper! Well, for our hard work, we got to read the "ko-chek" (old Chinese comics which was condemned by the teachers as not good, alas, we know now that they could have improved our kids' Chinese!).

At the park, there were many things to do. We would climb the Madras Thorn (tree) to try to get the fruit before the birds beat us to it. And yes, there was the Basketball court. Whenever anyone is playing, we would just walk near. It is almost always that the owner of the ball would throw to us to give it a try. And before long. we would be teaming up to play - half court. At times, it was more "professional" and we small kids backed off when the Tng Tiam Hung gang played against the Kong Saik Kai gang. When we kids played, there were no fancy stuff, like basketball shoes. We could only eye at them with envy. We played barefooted! Wearing the Japanese flipflops would run the risk of tearing the rubberout.

In the evening, the men and women in white tops and black baggy pants took over. It's the Chin Woo Athletic Association. We kids would sit by the slope or even on the Aw Boon Haw jaga's Charpoi (rope bed) to watch. The older people would be doing the "ghost catching" according to the master's call of "yet, yi, sam .." (one, two, three). Ah, I was to learn years later that it was Taiji.

And there were the younger ones who would do the unarmed gungfu or with the weapons of all sorts - spear, nan-tao, qian .. toys that my son now plays. Hmm, something that I wanted to learn, but never got to doing it because, I had no money.

The fun time must be when the Association was rehearsing for a performance. That's when the woolly Northern Lions would appear in their full form. In those days, that was probably the only Northern Lions that I have seen. Others, as seen during Chinese New Year, were the Southern Lions, as you would have seen in the Wong-Fei-Hong movies.

The whole streets of Tng Tiam Hung (Pawn Shop Alley in Hokkien) and Kong Saik Kai (as pronounced in Cantonese) are now quiet. No noisy boys. And so, what's left of the basketball court was also quiet. But to my surprise, the activities of Chin Woo Athletic Association goes on.

postscript: As days draw longer, it would have to take an occasion like a funeral wake to reminisce about the young days. This guy, about my age, but one generation higher because he happens to be the brother of my aunt, came from Indonesia (where he has since taken up residence and became a towkay) for the wake of his nephew, my cousin. We talked about the days when we were both about 12 years old .. and playing in this old playground. Ah, memories.

Singapore River and the Tua Kow

A couple of weeks ago, I watched a VCD of the China TV documentary series on Cheng Ho's (Admiral Zheng He) voyage to the western seas. Marvelling at how the Chinese built the huge wooden boats, I could not help remembering the days before I went to school. (My daughter was asking me how come I did not go to kindergarten) Yes, I must have been only 4-5 years old when Grandpa (my mum's adopted father - that's another story tied to the World War II) used to bring my brother and me on a trishaw to Siong Peck Kuay (I found out that this was Nankin St), where his coolie-keng (the coolie's clubhouse) was. We were alway looking forward to go to the kopi-tua (the Chinese version of the Sarabat Stall, or coffeeshop on wheels) where we will have kopi (thats coffee with condensed milk) on a plate. Ah, with a big surface, the kopi got cooler faster. (^^)

Grandpa was working in one of the huge Tua Kow (lighter?), one of the numerous that used to clog almost the entire Singapore River near to the place facing the landing place of Sir Stamford Raffles. He would from time to time bring us to his Tua Kow. While it was fun, it was also frightening. We had to jump from Tua Kow to Tua Kow from the river side. If we fell outside the Tua Kow, it would be into the murky, dirty and foul smelling river. If we fell into the Tua Kow, we were to have broken bones, as what my uncle did.

The unladen Tua Kow must be some two storey high, or higher? In those days, these huge Tua Kows are unpowered. Often, like the barges of what you see today, one small powered bumboat would be pulling a line of many Tua Kows from the Singapore River to the outer roads (the sea outside the breakwaters off Clifford Pier), where the cargo ships would be waiting. And the cargo? It could be rice, flour or copra. Ah, sometimes, we got the leftovers (what was spilled into the bottom of the Tua Kow) and so at home, it could be rice, flour or even copra for our stove. In those days, it was either wood, charcoal or copra as fuel. Try cooking rice in those different heating ingredients!

Imagine the coolies, balancing on long narrow planks, carrying heavy sacks of rice or flour from the lorries or the warehouse along the river bank to the Tua Kow. When they carried flour, you would see white-powdered men with a cloth over their shoulder and head as they carried the sacks. For rice sacks, there would be the rounded hook to help them carry, the hooks that the kids of today might be familiar with Captain Hook.

Further up the Singapore River, passing Char-Chun-Tau (in Teochew as the Teochew community dominated this place) where Clarke Quay is now on one side, further into almost where boats could not go, at Kim Seng Road, there were a couple of boat yards, where these huge Tua Kows were built. Brown, very tanned, bare-bodied men worked on the rotten-looking logs floating on the low waters. Two persons with long saws (almost similar to what I saw in the Zheng He documentary) were patiently sawing through the length of the log. Using clamps to make a space, they continued to saw, horizontally.

There was no sign of any blueprint. As my secondary school was by this part of the river, next to Kim Seng Rd, each day as I walked or cycled home, I would watch for the progress of the boat building. And slowly it took shape, from the skeleton, each plank was placed against them. I never got to see how they launched the boat into the water and towed to the river mouth, known to the locals as Chap-Puay-Kuay-Gi. Ah, they must have waited for the extreme high tide, since Singapore River is a tidal River.

Singapore River was the life of Singapore's early days, playing an important role in her entreport trade. Goods from Indonesia and Singapore come through Singapore River, and vice versa. The river bank was a busy place in the day, and a quiet one in the night. There were warehouses made from the shop houses, there were people living there, there were temples and there were hawkers.

Playing in the Tua Kow was part of our childhood fun .. catching those what we called "Hai Ka Chuah" (literally translated as sea-cockroaches). Alas, one day, in 1960, some came to inform Grandma that Grandpa could not be found. The night before, he was on his mission with his Tua Kow in a convoy to bring the goods to the ships on the outer-roads. A storm was brewing. What we knew then was, according to witnesses there, he was trying to cover the goods from the rain. The strong wind blew the cover backwards, knocking him cold, throwing him into the water.

Grandma went to consult a medium as no one seemed to be able to find his body. The medium advised that he would be found that afternoon. That afternoon, police reported spotting his body at Katong, some distance away from the Outer Roads. I was only into my Primary 2 class. From then on, the excitement and memories of the Tua Kow slowly faded.

And some four decades again, in my quest to look back at my younger days, I was surprised to discover that Grandpa's ancestral deities - Sam Tiong Ong (San Zhong Wang) - were still being worshipped. The original temple at the coolie-keng at Nankin Road is now in Toa Payoh.

It was a long journey from Grandpa's home village in Tang-Wha (Tong An) in China to Singapore, enduring poverty and a hard life during the World War II, working towards a better life with the Tua Kow .. and ending with it.

[Ack: Thanks to Ai Lin for the B&W photos from her grandfather's album]

Yan Kit Swimming Pool

Yesterday, I had a short opportunity to walk up memory lane.

I saw the Kim Lan Hng (Jin Lan Yuan) that was all that is left of the place where once stood temples, one being the Jin Lan Miao (which is now at Kim Tian Road). Across the road is the only temple that is still standing, the Phor Tor Jee, an interesting syncretic temple that must have seen much of the transformation of this corner known to the local residents as the "Chye Chi Ya", meaning market. In the old days, to reach the temple from "Tua Beh Lor" (big horse road or Tanjong Pagar Rd), one had to wade through the often wet and dirty street up Narcisus St where the wet market once stood.

That was the place where I accompanied my Mum marketing. I learnt how to select a piece of sting-ray by smelling (you know why?), got the cheapest offer, such as cockle shells at 5 cents a kati or the chicken hearts that were frozen (and often frown by the well off) - only to learn that they are high in cholesterol! Ah, chicken hearts fried with thinly sliced ginger and a touch of sesame oil was sedap (delicious). During festive days, we would be selecting the most alive chicken to buy to bring back and fatten it up for the actual day.

I was to take over the marketing when my Mum went to work to bring in extra income. For S$10 a week, I was to market and cook for a family of 8 people. But I digress as this would be a long story on how I started cooking at the ripe old age of 10! (^^)

Ah, the Yan Kit Swimming Pool brought back memories when with a neighbour, we would sneak off for a swim. If my memories hold, the entrance was like 30 cents and because Mum would not allow us to swim (the fear of us kids drowning), we would keep the swimming trunks at our neighbour's place.

It was also a time when apart of the fear of drowning, we had to contend with territorial wars of the local gangsters or secret societies. Of course, staying in Term Tiam Hung (Alley of Pawn Shops - although I remembered only seeing one) helps since we were the residents, but then, there were so many gangs operating there. "Li chi to si mi?" (what do you play?) a small boy would accost us in the swimming pool, expecting us to give the password, the two-digit number of the local gang/secret society. It was dangerous to try to give a number. We would say, "Gua bo chi toh" (I don't play) and try to look behind him, as often, there would be some bigger guys waiting. (^^)

Apart from such occasional encounters, we enjoyed our childhood in this neighbourhood with a swimming pool that was so near, and probably one of the very few in the 1960s.

When I tried peeking into the pool, I saw big recesses .. what were the pools were now dry. While Farrer Park Swimming Pool had reinvented itself, Yan Kit Swimming Pool did not seem to go that way. I could remember the three pools, the biggest being nearest to the entrance, often used for water polo and diving. The middle pool was probably the most congested, since it ranged from about 4 feet to 6 feet. And the further end was the wading pool, where we started, learning to swim on our own. From time to time, we would be adventurous enough to venture into the second pool. And when we tried to go at it in the first pool, the ever attentive life guard would blow his whistle and got us out of the pool.

At times, when we were lucky to have that extra 5 cents or 10 cents, after a swim, we would go to the small canteen to enjoy a piece of chye-tau-kueh (Chinese deepfried radish cake) coated with plenty of chilli sauce. Often, we would share between three persons, the neighbour and my younger brother. Happy, with skin and hair smelling of the chlorinated water, we would stroll back home.

Chinatown prepares for Mid-Autumn Festival

We are still in the midst of the popularly known as "Hungry Ghost Festival", more appropriately known as Zhong Yuan Jie 中元节, but this does not prevent the shops and traditional Chinese pastry shops from preparing for the Mid-Autumn Festival, Zhong Qiu Jie 中秋节.

While in the past, the streets of Chinatown, the part which is the focal point of shoppers - Gu Chia Chwee in Hokkien or Gnau Chei Shui in Cantonese or better known to the younger folks as Niu Che Shui 牛车水 - would be lined with paper lanterns of all shapes, colour and sizes, hanging from above, with the assortments of moon cakes laid on the tables as days got nearer towards the 15th of the 8th Lunar Month, these days, celebrations take on a grander scale.

Props and pillars were almost in place, to prepare for the banners and lightings, transforming Chinatown (mainly along New Bridge Rd and Eu Tong Sen St) into a fairy land at night. We await to see what's in store from the creative designers for a Chinatown in Mid-Autumn.

While the newer restaurants and hotels started work through their outlets, pamphlets and credit cards, offering all kinds of moon cake, very active in their marketing, the lao jiao pai (the old signage) Chinese pastry shops like Dai Tong (Da Tong 大同) and Dai Zhong Kok (Da Zhong Guo 大中国) continued with their preparations, almost quietly. They know and most of us oldies know, when the time comes, we would still want to have that piece of good 'ol mooncake that we are used to. The older men and womenfolk would still be queuing up to buy their share.

A quick run of a part of Chinatown got me the pictures here to share with you. Ah, there's quite an assortment of different moon cakes and cakes for the occasion, and each dialect group has its own specialty.

Xin Sheng Poets Society 新聲詩社

This evening, I was fortunate to be introduced to the Xin Sheng Poets Society 新聲詩社which now has its premise in Chinatown. After "wandering" for years, it has finally find a home in the right place! Chinatown. From what I understand, the Society should be 50 years old this year, having been in the current premise for the past 6-7 years.

I have been walking up and down the food street (Smith St) umteenth times but never paid attention to the occupants of the shophouses other than the restaurants. And what a pleasant surprise it was, when Liu laoshi 劉老師 showed me this place. Reminded me of James Bond show, from the hustle and bustle of a busy food street, we came up this serene place at 13A where folks (mainly with a median age of 50?) gathered to learn Chinese poems, read them, and sing them!



For the first time in my five decades of existence, I was actually excited by a Chinese poem! The way, Chen laoshi 陳老師 read it as one would probably see from the ancient movies of scholars reciting the poems, and then, sang it! Suddenly, the Ai Lian Shuo 愛蓮說, that I learnt some four decades ago sprang up in front of me, fresh and fragrant, very different from the miserable days of mo xie 默寫 (writing from memory) and bei shu 背書 (reciting from memory). Hmm, I thought to myself, why couldn't my Chinese teacher be like Chen laoshi. I suppose there is only one Chen laoshi, and probably there could be many undiscovered talented ones that the schools are in need of. (^^)

Oblivious to the noise, smells and smokes from the street downstairs - luckily, there is this technology called air-conditiongin - this little crowd, learnt, read and sang. And they just came, class after class.

Tonight is but one of the many classes that this society organises, much to the delight of a probably diminishing but dedicated crowd. But I could be wrong.