I have not seen him for days, actually weeks. In our busy lives, the chance meeting is always at the lift landing or inside the lift. There's no common gathering place like the local kopi-tiam. Yes, there are kopi-tiams but these are more commercials than for the local residents for the sitting together to "liao-tian" (chat).
We are living in a vertical village, if you like. A late friend, not from Singapore, once lamented about his days here. He said that his children tried going from floor to floor to inform them of their living in that block and trying to make contacts. It was a challenge. Chances of anyone noticing a new neighbour would be almost nil, save two doors away from each side if you live in those flats with common corridors.
The area where our postal mailboxes are is also linked to a little pavilion that was carved out in the last upgrading. This is the place where, sometimes, funeral wakes are held. To the Chinese, one should die in the house. In these days, it is difficult. For one, it is difficult to put anyone in a coffin and carry the coffin down from the apartment down the lift. Even in cases when one died in the apartment, carrying the body down the lift to a place downstairs was already a challenge.
While modern Singaporean Chinese might be less likely to worry about seeing people in mourning clothes, many still do not feel good. Traditionally, the bereaved family would make it a point to paste a square red paper on every lift landing. Kind of informing the neighbours and warding off the negative elements, I suppose.
In my apartment block, where most of the older residents were relocated from the Teochew area of Chinatown (from Ellenborough market to Teochew St) and Cantonese areas as well (around Taofu kai (Upper Chin Chew St) area), it is not uncommon to listen to the music and "singing" of funeral rituals based on Teochew and Cantonese Taoist rituals. To the older residents, who might understand the singing, and it being a "sad" rendition, reminding them that their time could well be soon, it was also soothing to hear such music that were not dissimilar to those of the Teochew and Cantonese operas. Occasionally, there were Buddhist chants.
These days, funeral wakes are mostly held for 3 days. In the small space, high costs, small families and everyone busy earning a living, 3 days are already a challenge for a funeral wake. But at least, it is long enough for relatives and old friends to make it to pay their last respect. The counting of the day starts from the day of the death (from midnight, it is counted as a day) and the funeral being the third day. So, in effect, there is only a full day.
Imagine to my shock when I learned that my neighbour - whom I only get to meet on the lift landing or inside the lift, and he trying to speak in this heavily Cantonese accented Mandarin, and I trying to speak in Hokkien-Cantonese) - had passed away. His funeral was at the little pavilion downstairs. I used to make it a point to check out the funeral when there is one and I was around there to pick up mail. But I missed this one.
And so, one less familiar face, someone to greet and chat in the lift amidst strangers. To him, I can only bid him farewell here. "Wherever you are, po-zhong!" (Po-zhong is take care in Cantonese).
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Recycling & a means to survive
Long long ago in Singapore, as one can see as well in many parts of the world, it was more a means of survival than recycling. But indeed, it was and is also recycling. Amongst many things that could be recycled, one is the cardboards used for cardboard boxes which are growing exponentially. To most shops, after taking out the contents from the boxes, they are of no use. And so they throw them away.
In the old days, it was cardboards, newspapers, magazines and any paper products that one could rummage from the garbage bins to put them together and sell to agents who bought them and resell them to the recycling companies. These people, mostly those who were illiterate and might not have the means to carry out normal work, could earn a small income using their strength and efforts as their investment. And there were also the karang-guni men who were more entrepreneur who would go from house to house crying out loudly (could well be one of the best baritone or bass!) "Kaaarrraaaang Guuu ni", followed by more offerings like they are buying all kinds of things from newspaper to spoilt TVs. They all knew where to resell what they bought from these households at a pittance. For us kids, we would be thrilled to be able to sell our read newspapers at 10 cents per kati. Somehow, the Chinese papers were bought at cheaper rate than the English papers. Almost anything can be sold, and so, we didn't throw them away.
Besides, certain bottles could be sold too. There were different prices for coloured bottles and no-coloured bottles. From the friendly neighbourhood sundry shop (we call Ket-Ai in Hokkien), they would offer something like 5 cents for a beer bottle returned. I still saw this practice in Europe some years ago. I have not come across this in Singapore these days. Karang-guni men are also becoming more selective and do not want to carry such heavy stuff that they could probably sell for a small amount. Interestingly, these days, there are people who want to buy very old liquor, of which we might have considered as too old to consume.
There are also active recycling movements which work with the big recycling companies to go from door to door to collect recyclable materials for free - either ways. To the residents these days, it was great for anyone to pick up from their doorsteps a particular day each week. To the volunteers or recycling companies, this is free and so, they probably have more to profit from. But what many might not know is that there are still people who survive through collecting such items to sell to the recycling company, bringing back some money to feed the family.
While it is rare these days, there still are such people who probably only know this trade and it keeps them alive, perhaps, on top of any aid that they might receive. In the old days, these people, doing such work could raise a family. I met an old man who would collect what was thrown away within the block of flats and patiently cart them to sell. Through such efforts he has raised his family. One day, he even proudly told me that he had a son who was doing his PhD. Alas, after I met him once with a domestic help after he had suffered a stroke (probably his children were already working and taking care of him, but then, old habits die hard), I never saw him again.
There was also another man, who probably is now in his late 70s or 80s, who still carry on this "trade". In his typical blue shirt and pants (like those one could remember seeing in the 50s of the Tng-Sua (Tang Shan) Ah Pek) and his hat (which was fashionable in the 50s and almost gone by now), he would walked the corridors of the flats to pick up what was thrown away. A few of us would offer him to come and collect our read newspapers. He was so grateful that each them he meets me, his first words would be "Kamsiah". And then, the typical Chinese greetings of yesteryears, "Jia Ba Buay?" (Have you eaten enough?). I still meet him in the lift, but his movements have been somewhat slow these days. He has become almost deaf. A full suntanned man - the skin showed - this man has seen the growing part of Singapore.
Today, there is another interesting trend in such "recycling". Collecting used cans from can-drinks became another "business". One could see locals and foreigners involved too. And another interesting demands seem to be the pulling tab of the cans. It is said that these tabs could be melted to make artificial limbs.
In Chinatown where there are various retail businesses, where the products come in cardboard boxes, the amount of such boxes being thrown away is big. There was a silent symbiosis being evolved where a few old men (and there was an old lady too, but I have not seen her for months) would wait patiently for the shops to throw the boxes away. You have thought that the shopkeepers would make a mess out of the common corridors. No, these old men would patiently clear whatever rubbish there were (such as plastic sheets) and put them into a rubbish bin, and then, flatten these boxes. One by one they worked. On a good day, there were loads. All neatly arranged, tied and packed. Waiting for the next morning to be carted to the "centre" somewhere in Chinatown to be sold.
As in business, there could be pilferage when the goods are left alone. And so, many months ago, I would find this old lady (who used to mumble to herself as she packed the cardboards) sleeping on the pile of cardboards. Each time, a quick thought would flash across my mind if she was still alive. I watched for sign of live, and then, walked on.
From time to time, one would see the old men or ladies pushing heavy make-shift carts to carry their collections to the "centre". Once I found one old lady who was fuming mad and scolding this young lady who was working in a pub. That old lady tried her best to speak in Cantonese with Mandarin while the young lady replied in Mandarin that the van that block her way (from a backlane) was not from her pub. A few of us passer-by tried to help but it did not bring her temper down. She kept complaing, "I need to bring this to the place and I have not had my meal!" It was already 1pm. And so, the few of us tried to check out the shops around there who had parked the van there, and well, illegally too. Finally, another young lady appeared and was apologising profusely in English. Ah, nothing is going to please this old lady until her cart could move on. Two of us helped her to push up a slight hump onto the road. The load on her cart was very heavy!
Muttering to herself, she moved painfully on. We stood, looked, probably sighing within ourselves, and parted.
In the old days, it was cardboards, newspapers, magazines and any paper products that one could rummage from the garbage bins to put them together and sell to agents who bought them and resell them to the recycling companies. These people, mostly those who were illiterate and might not have the means to carry out normal work, could earn a small income using their strength and efforts as their investment. And there were also the karang-guni men who were more entrepreneur who would go from house to house crying out loudly (could well be one of the best baritone or bass!) "Kaaarrraaaang Guuu ni", followed by more offerings like they are buying all kinds of things from newspaper to spoilt TVs. They all knew where to resell what they bought from these households at a pittance. For us kids, we would be thrilled to be able to sell our read newspapers at 10 cents per kati. Somehow, the Chinese papers were bought at cheaper rate than the English papers. Almost anything can be sold, and so, we didn't throw them away.
Besides, certain bottles could be sold too. There were different prices for coloured bottles and no-coloured bottles. From the friendly neighbourhood sundry shop (we call Ket-Ai in Hokkien), they would offer something like 5 cents for a beer bottle returned. I still saw this practice in Europe some years ago. I have not come across this in Singapore these days. Karang-guni men are also becoming more selective and do not want to carry such heavy stuff that they could probably sell for a small amount. Interestingly, these days, there are people who want to buy very old liquor, of which we might have considered as too old to consume.
There are also active recycling movements which work with the big recycling companies to go from door to door to collect recyclable materials for free - either ways. To the residents these days, it was great for anyone to pick up from their doorsteps a particular day each week. To the volunteers or recycling companies, this is free and so, they probably have more to profit from. But what many might not know is that there are still people who survive through collecting such items to sell to the recycling company, bringing back some money to feed the family.
While it is rare these days, there still are such people who probably only know this trade and it keeps them alive, perhaps, on top of any aid that they might receive. In the old days, these people, doing such work could raise a family. I met an old man who would collect what was thrown away within the block of flats and patiently cart them to sell. Through such efforts he has raised his family. One day, he even proudly told me that he had a son who was doing his PhD. Alas, after I met him once with a domestic help after he had suffered a stroke (probably his children were already working and taking care of him, but then, old habits die hard), I never saw him again.
There was also another man, who probably is now in his late 70s or 80s, who still carry on this "trade". In his typical blue shirt and pants (like those one could remember seeing in the 50s of the Tng-Sua (Tang Shan) Ah Pek) and his hat (which was fashionable in the 50s and almost gone by now), he would walked the corridors of the flats to pick up what was thrown away. A few of us would offer him to come and collect our read newspapers. He was so grateful that each them he meets me, his first words would be "Kamsiah". And then, the typical Chinese greetings of yesteryears, "Jia Ba Buay?" (Have you eaten enough?). I still meet him in the lift, but his movements have been somewhat slow these days. He has become almost deaf. A full suntanned man - the skin showed - this man has seen the growing part of Singapore.
Today, there is another interesting trend in such "recycling". Collecting used cans from can-drinks became another "business". One could see locals and foreigners involved too. And another interesting demands seem to be the pulling tab of the cans. It is said that these tabs could be melted to make artificial limbs.
In Chinatown where there are various retail businesses, where the products come in cardboard boxes, the amount of such boxes being thrown away is big. There was a silent symbiosis being evolved where a few old men (and there was an old lady too, but I have not seen her for months) would wait patiently for the shops to throw the boxes away. You have thought that the shopkeepers would make a mess out of the common corridors. No, these old men would patiently clear whatever rubbish there were (such as plastic sheets) and put them into a rubbish bin, and then, flatten these boxes. One by one they worked. On a good day, there were loads. All neatly arranged, tied and packed. Waiting for the next morning to be carted to the "centre" somewhere in Chinatown to be sold.
As in business, there could be pilferage when the goods are left alone. And so, many months ago, I would find this old lady (who used to mumble to herself as she packed the cardboards) sleeping on the pile of cardboards. Each time, a quick thought would flash across my mind if she was still alive. I watched for sign of live, and then, walked on.
From time to time, one would see the old men or ladies pushing heavy make-shift carts to carry their collections to the "centre". Once I found one old lady who was fuming mad and scolding this young lady who was working in a pub. That old lady tried her best to speak in Cantonese with Mandarin while the young lady replied in Mandarin that the van that block her way (from a backlane) was not from her pub. A few of us passer-by tried to help but it did not bring her temper down. She kept complaing, "I need to bring this to the place and I have not had my meal!" It was already 1pm. And so, the few of us tried to check out the shops around there who had parked the van there, and well, illegally too. Finally, another young lady appeared and was apologising profusely in English. Ah, nothing is going to please this old lady until her cart could move on. Two of us helped her to push up a slight hump onto the road. The load on her cart was very heavy!
Muttering to herself, she moved painfully on. We stood, looked, probably sighing within ourselves, and parted.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Coke with Salt, anyone?
Somehow I have already forgotten about this way of drinking the Coke or Sarsi. But, recently, a young friend (well in his 30s I think) joined me for lunch. And he asked for Coca Cola with salt on the ice. Huh? I thought this practice was extinct! But the fact that the kopi tiam (coffee shop) or kopi tua (coffee stall) could come up with a salt shaker (way more hygienic than the old salt in a Brands' Essence bottle with a small plastic spoon) shows that it is still very much alive, except that its users might have gone "underground". In the past, it would have been very usual to see a bottle of salt on every table.
Many people believe that Coca Cola or Sarsi with salt will "cool" down the body. If you believe or subscribe to the theory of yin and yang and what is "heaty" and what is "cooling" you might be able to follow this belief or practice. And so, on a hot and humid day, nothing beats a glass of Coke with salt in it!
In my young days, I love to watch the reactions of the glass of Coke or Sarsi as I started sprinkling the salt into it. Nothing like the bubbles and fountains of Coke or Sarsi hitting your face as you attempt to drink. If you have never tried this, go give it a try. Nothing great not serious, but could be a novelty, just like eating ice cream with salt in Okinawa.
What else is missing in the modern kopi tiam? Ever seen the old man dropping a slab of Cold Storage Butter (they would ask for "col-storee gu yew") into a cup of kopi-O? Kopi-O is coffee black.
Many people believe that Coca Cola or Sarsi with salt will "cool" down the body. If you believe or subscribe to the theory of yin and yang and what is "heaty" and what is "cooling" you might be able to follow this belief or practice. And so, on a hot and humid day, nothing beats a glass of Coke with salt in it!
In my young days, I love to watch the reactions of the glass of Coke or Sarsi as I started sprinkling the salt into it. Nothing like the bubbles and fountains of Coke or Sarsi hitting your face as you attempt to drink. If you have never tried this, go give it a try. Nothing great not serious, but could be a novelty, just like eating ice cream with salt in Okinawa.
What else is missing in the modern kopi tiam? Ever seen the old man dropping a slab of Cold Storage Butter (they would ask for "col-storee gu yew") into a cup of kopi-O? Kopi-O is coffee black.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Rickshaw Noodles aka "Kan Chia Mee" or La Che Mian 拉车面
In Hokkien, this is called the "Kan Chia Mee" which means the "pull-vehicle-noodles" or in Chinese La Che Mian 拉车面.
This is a very simple noodle soup prepared and served where ordered (not the usual cook upon order noodles) and hence has thicker gravy and a more tangy taste because of the contents of the yellow noodles.
I suppose it must have been the cheap and easy to eat meal for the rickshaw pullers in the old days. When I asked the lady of this stall at Maxwell Market Food Centre (I wonder if this could well be the only heritage foodstall selling a dish of this kind) how long her stall has been operating. She answered, "60+ years", and without much of a pause, "since 1943". As there was a steady (not heavy) flow of customers, I could not engage her with more questions. She is also selling the mee-sua, another Hokkien cuisine. And I was told that her fried beehoon (rice vermicelli) is very good. There are also other typical southern Chinese breakfast food such as the yam-cake.
I guess, in the 40s, a bowl of the kan-chia-mee must have costed less than 5 cents. (^^). In the 50s, it was in that range. I heard from wife that in the 80s, it was 50 cents a bowl (from this stall) and when I tried it yesterday, it was 80 cents. Not much but good to keep the tummy from growling.
I know that in some temples, where there is an event, the kan-chia-mee is still one of the dishes being served. For convenience, it could be cooked in a big pot and served throughout the day. For many of the older folks, it was a nostalgic trip and they ate with relish.
In Maxwell Market Food Centre, there are many foodstalls that started life in the old Hokkien part of Chinatown. This Kan-Chia-Mee stall was from China Street. During the urban renewal, many of the foodstall in the Hokkien part of Chinatown - China St, Nanjing St and Kiao-Keng-Kao (Outside the Gambler's Den as translated literally) moved to this vegetable market turned food centre. As part of its continuity, (in the old days, there were hardly any names for any of these stalls), the signage at Maxwell Market Food Centre would indicate that that particular stall was from China St or Nanking St. You can do a food heritage journey through these stalls here.
Would the kan-chia-mee be one of the soon-to-be-disappeared food? Like the rickshaw pullers? (^^) Take a look, take a taste ... and get the taste of the lives that some of our forefathers have gone through.
Postscript:
Thanks to James Seah for the lead and National Archives Singapore (NAS), here is a better image of what a kan-chia or rickshaw puller is like.
This is a very simple noodle soup prepared and served where ordered (not the usual cook upon order noodles) and hence has thicker gravy and a more tangy taste because of the contents of the yellow noodles.
I suppose it must have been the cheap and easy to eat meal for the rickshaw pullers in the old days. When I asked the lady of this stall at Maxwell Market Food Centre (I wonder if this could well be the only heritage foodstall selling a dish of this kind) how long her stall has been operating. She answered, "60+ years", and without much of a pause, "since 1943". As there was a steady (not heavy) flow of customers, I could not engage her with more questions. She is also selling the mee-sua, another Hokkien cuisine. And I was told that her fried beehoon (rice vermicelli) is very good. There are also other typical southern Chinese breakfast food such as the yam-cake.
I guess, in the 40s, a bowl of the kan-chia-mee must have costed less than 5 cents. (^^). In the 50s, it was in that range. I heard from wife that in the 80s, it was 50 cents a bowl (from this stall) and when I tried it yesterday, it was 80 cents. Not much but good to keep the tummy from growling.
I know that in some temples, where there is an event, the kan-chia-mee is still one of the dishes being served. For convenience, it could be cooked in a big pot and served throughout the day. For many of the older folks, it was a nostalgic trip and they ate with relish.
In Maxwell Market Food Centre, there are many foodstalls that started life in the old Hokkien part of Chinatown. This Kan-Chia-Mee stall was from China Street. During the urban renewal, many of the foodstall in the Hokkien part of Chinatown - China St, Nanjing St and Kiao-Keng-Kao (Outside the Gambler's Den as translated literally) moved to this vegetable market turned food centre. As part of its continuity, (in the old days, there were hardly any names for any of these stalls), the signage at Maxwell Market Food Centre would indicate that that particular stall was from China St or Nanking St. You can do a food heritage journey through these stalls here.
Would the kan-chia-mee be one of the soon-to-be-disappeared food? Like the rickshaw pullers? (^^) Take a look, take a taste ... and get the taste of the lives that some of our forefathers have gone through.
Postscript:
Thanks to James Seah for the lead and National Archives Singapore (NAS), here is a better image of what a kan-chia or rickshaw puller is like.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Those kerosene lamps
On this Sunday evening when wife and daughter decided on a meaty Bak Kut Teh, and well, there are Bak Kut Teh, and Bak Kut Teh, daughter decided on the "young" establishment of Song Fa Bak Kut Teh. This is another classical example of how a typical Bak Kut Teh stall has been transformed into a successful business by the next generation. OK la, the contents are almost the same, only the ambience is different. Well, it has the look and almost the feel, but not the smell. It was cool some more.
But it was the lamps on the wall that brought me back to my young days. It is now retro and hip infact for restaurants to make their places look retro. For me, and probably for those senior citizens, these lamps would bring back memories - fond or otherwise. And I am sure, it will trigger many a granny to share the tales to their grandchildren. Imagine the scholar who studied with the tiny light from this kerosene lamp.
When I was young, before I moved to an HDB flat, I was staying in a so-called pre-war house in this place known as Turn-Tiam-Hung. Compared to these days, the rent was, well, affordable. Our room (with the extended family all sleeping together) was reasonably big to take nine persons, unlike those smaller cubicles in the heart of Gnau-Chair-Sui. But the Bibik (whom we kids had to call her Ko-po - grandaunt) was a strict matriarch. We, the tenants were also like part of her extended family) was very much concerned about expenditure, since we only paid for the rent and that included light and water and well, the bucket system. And so, each night, at 11pm sharp, she or her eldest son would switch off the lights. Only a few tiny lights along the staircase were lit to allow us to find our way to our rooms.
When we were very young, we were terrified of the dark, not to mention the calls of the cats, fighting or mating on the tile roof which was just above our room. And so, we tried to get to sleep by 10pm. You can imagine the importance of the spittoon as many of us, especially kids, would not want to venture downstairs to the toilet. And so, each night, before 11pm struck, Grandma or Ma would light up the kerosene lamp.
The lamp would be hung on a wall. The light was just enough for us to figure out the forms lying on the floor so that we don't step on them if we need to use the spittoon. If anyone of us needs to find something, we would have to carry the lamp. And in the rare occasions when we had to study, well, that was our source of comfort.
In the days when we had to wake up early, like 5am, to get ready to go to school, it was the lamp that would help me to change and get into my school uniform.
Ah the days ... I could still remember the smell of the kerosene being burned as the light flickered in the occasional breeze. I wondered how I survived the hot dark nights.
But it was the lamps on the wall that brought me back to my young days. It is now retro and hip infact for restaurants to make their places look retro. For me, and probably for those senior citizens, these lamps would bring back memories - fond or otherwise. And I am sure, it will trigger many a granny to share the tales to their grandchildren. Imagine the scholar who studied with the tiny light from this kerosene lamp.
When I was young, before I moved to an HDB flat, I was staying in a so-called pre-war house in this place known as Turn-Tiam-Hung. Compared to these days, the rent was, well, affordable. Our room (with the extended family all sleeping together) was reasonably big to take nine persons, unlike those smaller cubicles in the heart of Gnau-Chair-Sui. But the Bibik (whom we kids had to call her Ko-po - grandaunt) was a strict matriarch. We, the tenants were also like part of her extended family) was very much concerned about expenditure, since we only paid for the rent and that included light and water and well, the bucket system. And so, each night, at 11pm sharp, she or her eldest son would switch off the lights. Only a few tiny lights along the staircase were lit to allow us to find our way to our rooms.
When we were very young, we were terrified of the dark, not to mention the calls of the cats, fighting or mating on the tile roof which was just above our room. And so, we tried to get to sleep by 10pm. You can imagine the importance of the spittoon as many of us, especially kids, would not want to venture downstairs to the toilet. And so, each night, before 11pm struck, Grandma or Ma would light up the kerosene lamp.
The lamp would be hung on a wall. The light was just enough for us to figure out the forms lying on the floor so that we don't step on them if we need to use the spittoon. If anyone of us needs to find something, we would have to carry the lamp. And in the rare occasions when we had to study, well, that was our source of comfort.
In the days when we had to wake up early, like 5am, to get ready to go to school, it was the lamp that would help me to change and get into my school uniform.
Ah the days ... I could still remember the smell of the kerosene being burned as the light flickered in the occasional breeze. I wondered how I survived the hot dark nights.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Chinatown Buskers
Long long ago, there were buskers, but not the type that we know today. Or maybe, they are not buskers that we know today. It was in 1959, when I was in Primary One, when my "driver" (you would have thought that this was like my chauffeur, but no) whom my Mum paid to fetch me to school - it was Tanglin Boys' School and I was living in Turn Tiam Hung (Pawnshop Alley, Craig Rd) and in those days, apart from trying to ride the wild wild east buses, getting a car that went round putting all the kids into one Morris Minor (like chickens in a coop) was the other option - brought me with other kids to the show on ice in Happy World (I think that was the name before it became Gay World and then, disappeared with the change of the meaning of the word) followed by supper in the open air People's Park. That was the time when I saw this lady, or was it girl, who would put some sweets and dried kanna (Chinese olives) on the table and proceeded to sing. I was not sure if anyone paid.
And there was the lonely old men, some were blind, sitting by the corner of a street playing his erhu producing mournful sounds and singing equally mournful songs.
Those were the pre-licensed days. These days, buskers have to be "licensed" to perform, as I understand.
Long gone were the singers of yesteryears. For a while, there were no street entertainers in the streets of Chinatown. Not even the koyok man (street pedlars and performers who would use drums and gongs to welcome the onlookers like Ah Hia, Ah Chek in Hokkien, followed quickly by his assistant in Cantonese like Ah Kor, Ah Jie, each accompanied with a hit on the gong). There might be one or two "medicine man" demonstrating his prowess in gongfu and selling the traditional Chinese oil for rubbing tired muscles in some of the fairs organised.
Interestingly, with the onslaught of Karaoke (Empty Orchestra in Japanese - my first encounter was in a fair in Tokyo in 1976), many people discovered their talents. No more bathroom singing. Many took to singing like fish to water. Be it the popular songs or even the Cantonese Opera. One could sing with just a tape or now, a DVD. While many youngsters in the western world or even in Japan might perform with their musical instruments, a number of the older folks started lugging their small Singapore made DVD player with a small amplier and a loudspeaker to a good spot to sing. Soon, like honey to bees, old folks gathered to sit and listen to the crooning of the songs sung in their young days.I was tempted to go by these folks to ask, "A penny for your thoughts." I am sure, many must be reminiscing about the old days, good or bad, happy or sad. Perhaps, I could scan with my video camera to catch the facial expressions that might have inadvertently been released as the person gets deep into thoughts with the journey in time.
While some old men, and even old ladies, would join in as a group singing, there is also another group that entertain the older folks. The ladies were singing to the delight of the old men, and they even invited them to come forward to do a duet. The bolder men would join in doing some dances that were probably their signature movements of the younger days.
And so, if you are feeling bored, on a not too hot and humid evening, you could park yourself by some of these spots in Chinatown to enjoy the songs of time gone by. Reminisce or explore, depending on your age and experience. (^^)
And there was the lonely old men, some were blind, sitting by the corner of a street playing his erhu producing mournful sounds and singing equally mournful songs.
Those were the pre-licensed days. These days, buskers have to be "licensed" to perform, as I understand.
Long gone were the singers of yesteryears. For a while, there were no street entertainers in the streets of Chinatown. Not even the koyok man (street pedlars and performers who would use drums and gongs to welcome the onlookers like Ah Hia, Ah Chek in Hokkien, followed quickly by his assistant in Cantonese like Ah Kor, Ah Jie, each accompanied with a hit on the gong). There might be one or two "medicine man" demonstrating his prowess in gongfu and selling the traditional Chinese oil for rubbing tired muscles in some of the fairs organised.
Interestingly, with the onslaught of Karaoke (Empty Orchestra in Japanese - my first encounter was in a fair in Tokyo in 1976), many people discovered their talents. No more bathroom singing. Many took to singing like fish to water. Be it the popular songs or even the Cantonese Opera. One could sing with just a tape or now, a DVD. While many youngsters in the western world or even in Japan might perform with their musical instruments, a number of the older folks started lugging their small Singapore made DVD player with a small amplier and a loudspeaker to a good spot to sing. Soon, like honey to bees, old folks gathered to sit and listen to the crooning of the songs sung in their young days.I was tempted to go by these folks to ask, "A penny for your thoughts." I am sure, many must be reminiscing about the old days, good or bad, happy or sad. Perhaps, I could scan with my video camera to catch the facial expressions that might have inadvertently been released as the person gets deep into thoughts with the journey in time.
While some old men, and even old ladies, would join in as a group singing, there is also another group that entertain the older folks. The ladies were singing to the delight of the old men, and they even invited them to come forward to do a duet. The bolder men would join in doing some dances that were probably their signature movements of the younger days.
And so, if you are feeling bored, on a not too hot and humid evening, you could park yourself by some of these spots in Chinatown to enjoy the songs of time gone by. Reminisce or explore, depending on your age and experience. (^^)
Thursday, March 31, 2011
A walk in Chinatown
After a morning errand today, I decided to have breakfast in Chinatown, on the way back. Instead of walking beeline home from Outram MRT Station, I started my zigzag tour of Chinatown. Maybe, the next time, I will make my walk live via ustream. (^^)
Walking through the walkway (I wondered if I could still call it the five-foot-way, a British specification?) of Pearl Centre, I saw changes since my last walk. That was months away. It is not often that I took a day off and having the luxury of a relaxed morning. More foodstalls were added, mainly of the northern Chinese cuisine. From the look of these stalls and other stalls in other parts of Chinatown, there must be many northerners in Singapore these days. Interestingly, I was introduced to northern Chinese food when I first went to Japan, some 35 years ago, and now, I am introduced to more (perhaps more authentic?) northern Chinese food in our very Chinatown, an apt place.
Looking at the "ugly" newer buildings dwarfing the older ones like the Kong Chow Wui Koon, it gave me a sense of weeds overgrowing the ancient plants. I crossed the road to Kreta Ayer Rd. I marveled at the Hindu Temple with its colourful sculptures. Set against the giant Pinnacle (where part of my childhood was in the two block of the old HDB flats with the Police Cantonment flats), it was picturesque. Would need a good photographer to capture it in perspective.
Ah, and there were the Cannonball trees. I first got to know them in the Botanic Gardens. And then, they lined up Cross St after the demise of the rows of shophouses. It was a delight to me and my kids (younger then) as we drove along Cross St on the way home. I stopped to capture some of its flowers against the hot sun shining down on it. I often wondered how the plants could take the fiery sun, and provide us the cool shades.
Crossing Keong Saik St, once renowned for its red light district activities, and Kreta Ayer Rd (ah, the Malay name for Bullockcartwater), I walked on the walkway of the point-block HDB flat. On the wall were murals depicting the Singapore that we strived for. The scenes of early day Bullockcart and the multi-religious Singapore. Mindful of that, I climbed up the stairs of the next HDB flat, my shortcut to the Chinatown Food Centre. As I turned around the corner of the second storey, at the corner of my eye, I saw a man writing on his blank paper book with a brush. I took a second look to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. How many people could write in Chinese using a brush these days? It was a great scene looking from outside. A missed opportunity to capture the picture.
An the next door was the Aquarium shop, where in my early days, I used to come here to replenish all the needs for my tiny aquarium at home. I remembered the days when I had to travel often, and months away in one stretch, that I had to enlist the help of my late father to help to "fish-sit". Each time when I returned, I thought I saw new "faces" in my aquarium. The heavy responsibilities of a "fish-sitter" (^^). I decided I should give up this hobby.
It was 11am. Many of the stalls in Chinatown FC were working hard getting all their food ready. At the soya-sauce stall, the Q was already 15 people deep! Inexpensive and delicious, there is always a Q until everything is sold out.
I walked along the rest of the empty row of tables - the transformation would come when the clock hits one - and found no Q at my favourite Vegetarian Beehoon Stall. An old man beat me to the Q. A little stooped, with a ear-plug to his ear (I guessed it must be a ear guide), he stood. The stallholder (I am still wondering if he is local or mainland Chinese as his Mandarin had a China accent) asked him in Mandarin if he was going to have his usual Beehoon. He nodded and replied in Cantonese, "Mei Fan". We sat by the same table, simply because it is the nearest. I noticed that he was given a red plate and I a polystyrene one. Hmm. And his plate seemed fuller than mine. I am not complaining but just wondering. He looked like a regular customer. For me, since the past 10 years, I have been getting to eat the beehoon (I always declare that this is the world's best beehoon to me, because of its style of cooking) through proxies, my wife or my domestic help would be buying them home. In fact my domestic help must have been more familiar with the stallholders in Chinatown FC and wetmarket than I am.
Yes, my wife and I used to come to this vegetarian beehoon stall for breakfast on the way to work. And when the kids came, we brought them along, starting with a few strands till now, a plate or two! We have outlasted most of the workers in this stall. Only the owner remains the same. (^^)
Had my fill, with four tah-pau (takeaway), I began my journey home. I thought I should take a more straightforward way home. And so across the overhead bridge, I went and on through the People's Park Complex.
As I entered the cool interior of People's Park Complex - probably Singapore's first big shopping mall (I could remember wandering the corridors gawking at the empty shops when it was first built) - I saw that the people were ready, waiting for customers. Plucking of eyebrows is now a big thing. Done to the full view of the passer-bys, the places were usually filled up when I walk through on weekends days and nights.
Crossing the open space between People's Park Complex (now filled with all kinds of foodstalls near to the open space) and People's Park (we call the old People's Park that used to house the shops selling cloth, resettled after the old people's park fire) as well as the former Majestic Theatre and OG, I walked into the corridor of the People's Park Food Centre (the descendant of the once-upon-a-time-in-the-1950s open air food park). Toh Kee appeared in front of me with rows of freshly grilled ducks. Flashes of the old days appeared, the days when a friend and I would try to save from our school allowance (which was hardly anything given that we had enough for bus fare and not enough for recess), and when we hit 30 cents, we would came here to get our favourite Loh-Mai-Kai (glutinous rice with chicken). Glad to know that it is still around.
Around the corner, almost home, I walked under the HDB flat where the 24-hour coffeeshop is and the row of shops. Ah, Ming Tai, the shop that sells the traditional Chinese herbs and dried stuff that makes wonderful soup - especially of the double-boiled kind. From father to son, the management of this shop evolved. And the little babies that cried and played in the shop, taken care of by the staff in the shop in between business, they have already traded their prams and strollers for bikes. Want to have a good bowl of birdnest but you have no time to prepare and cook? Ming Tai can prepare, cook and have it ready for you! That's the kind of service we get in the neighbourhood. Of course in small Singapore, anyone can order and bring home to enjoy.
It was a long walk, despite the short distance. Good for the muscles through the walking, and for the braincells as I raked them to look up the past.
Walking through the walkway (I wondered if I could still call it the five-foot-way, a British specification?) of Pearl Centre, I saw changes since my last walk. That was months away. It is not often that I took a day off and having the luxury of a relaxed morning. More foodstalls were added, mainly of the northern Chinese cuisine. From the look of these stalls and other stalls in other parts of Chinatown, there must be many northerners in Singapore these days. Interestingly, I was introduced to northern Chinese food when I first went to Japan, some 35 years ago, and now, I am introduced to more (perhaps more authentic?) northern Chinese food in our very Chinatown, an apt place.
Looking at the "ugly" newer buildings dwarfing the older ones like the Kong Chow Wui Koon, it gave me a sense of weeds overgrowing the ancient plants. I crossed the road to Kreta Ayer Rd. I marveled at the Hindu Temple with its colourful sculptures. Set against the giant Pinnacle (where part of my childhood was in the two block of the old HDB flats with the Police Cantonment flats), it was picturesque. Would need a good photographer to capture it in perspective.
Ah, and there were the Cannonball trees. I first got to know them in the Botanic Gardens. And then, they lined up Cross St after the demise of the rows of shophouses. It was a delight to me and my kids (younger then) as we drove along Cross St on the way home. I stopped to capture some of its flowers against the hot sun shining down on it. I often wondered how the plants could take the fiery sun, and provide us the cool shades.
Crossing Keong Saik St, once renowned for its red light district activities, and Kreta Ayer Rd (ah, the Malay name for Bullockcartwater), I walked on the walkway of the point-block HDB flat. On the wall were murals depicting the Singapore that we strived for. The scenes of early day Bullockcart and the multi-religious Singapore. Mindful of that, I climbed up the stairs of the next HDB flat, my shortcut to the Chinatown Food Centre. As I turned around the corner of the second storey, at the corner of my eye, I saw a man writing on his blank paper book with a brush. I took a second look to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. How many people could write in Chinese using a brush these days? It was a great scene looking from outside. A missed opportunity to capture the picture.
An the next door was the Aquarium shop, where in my early days, I used to come here to replenish all the needs for my tiny aquarium at home. I remembered the days when I had to travel often, and months away in one stretch, that I had to enlist the help of my late father to help to "fish-sit". Each time when I returned, I thought I saw new "faces" in my aquarium. The heavy responsibilities of a "fish-sitter" (^^). I decided I should give up this hobby.
It was 11am. Many of the stalls in Chinatown FC were working hard getting all their food ready. At the soya-sauce stall, the Q was already 15 people deep! Inexpensive and delicious, there is always a Q until everything is sold out.
I walked along the rest of the empty row of tables - the transformation would come when the clock hits one - and found no Q at my favourite Vegetarian Beehoon Stall. An old man beat me to the Q. A little stooped, with a ear-plug to his ear (I guessed it must be a ear guide), he stood. The stallholder (I am still wondering if he is local or mainland Chinese as his Mandarin had a China accent) asked him in Mandarin if he was going to have his usual Beehoon. He nodded and replied in Cantonese, "Mei Fan". We sat by the same table, simply because it is the nearest. I noticed that he was given a red plate and I a polystyrene one. Hmm. And his plate seemed fuller than mine. I am not complaining but just wondering. He looked like a regular customer. For me, since the past 10 years, I have been getting to eat the beehoon (I always declare that this is the world's best beehoon to me, because of its style of cooking) through proxies, my wife or my domestic help would be buying them home. In fact my domestic help must have been more familiar with the stallholders in Chinatown FC and wetmarket than I am.
Yes, my wife and I used to come to this vegetarian beehoon stall for breakfast on the way to work. And when the kids came, we brought them along, starting with a few strands till now, a plate or two! We have outlasted most of the workers in this stall. Only the owner remains the same. (^^)
Had my fill, with four tah-pau (takeaway), I began my journey home. I thought I should take a more straightforward way home. And so across the overhead bridge, I went and on through the People's Park Complex.
As I entered the cool interior of People's Park Complex - probably Singapore's first big shopping mall (I could remember wandering the corridors gawking at the empty shops when it was first built) - I saw that the people were ready, waiting for customers. Plucking of eyebrows is now a big thing. Done to the full view of the passer-bys, the places were usually filled up when I walk through on weekends days and nights.
Crossing the open space between People's Park Complex (now filled with all kinds of foodstalls near to the open space) and People's Park (we call the old People's Park that used to house the shops selling cloth, resettled after the old people's park fire) as well as the former Majestic Theatre and OG, I walked into the corridor of the People's Park Food Centre (the descendant of the once-upon-a-time-in-the-1950s open air food park). Toh Kee appeared in front of me with rows of freshly grilled ducks. Flashes of the old days appeared, the days when a friend and I would try to save from our school allowance (which was hardly anything given that we had enough for bus fare and not enough for recess), and when we hit 30 cents, we would came here to get our favourite Loh-Mai-Kai (glutinous rice with chicken). Glad to know that it is still around.
Around the corner, almost home, I walked under the HDB flat where the 24-hour coffeeshop is and the row of shops. Ah, Ming Tai, the shop that sells the traditional Chinese herbs and dried stuff that makes wonderful soup - especially of the double-boiled kind. From father to son, the management of this shop evolved. And the little babies that cried and played in the shop, taken care of by the staff in the shop in between business, they have already traded their prams and strollers for bikes. Want to have a good bowl of birdnest but you have no time to prepare and cook? Ming Tai can prepare, cook and have it ready for you! That's the kind of service we get in the neighbourhood. Of course in small Singapore, anyone can order and bring home to enjoy.
It was a long walk, despite the short distance. Good for the muscles through the walking, and for the braincells as I raked them to look up the past.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Thian Hock Keng celebrates Cap Go Meh 2011
On 17 Feb 11, Cap Go Meh as the Hokkien calls it (this term is used in Nanyang, from Malaysia through Singapore to Indonesia) is the grand finale to the Chinese New Year. In Singapore, Thian Hock Keng also rounded up the 15 days of Chinese New Year with a big bang. Not so much as in the fire crackers, but in the elaborate activities on this day with a grand street parade.
By 6pm on that evening, the crowd was already building up by the side of the road, in front of the temple. For many, it is as a tradition and custom to go and pay respects to the Goddess of the Sea, Mazu, and the other resident Gods before looking for a space by the roadside.
The "mee-koo" (bun made into the shape of a tortoise) - which is a symbol of longevity - was laid out as devotees made the offer to the Gods. In the courtyard, there were many sacks of rice, stacked into the shape of the tortoise. Devotees or anyone could seek to bring one back by using the divining blocks to seek permission from the Goddess of the Sea, Mazu.
As the sun set, the lights came on. At 8pm, with the Guest of Honour, the Minister for Manpower, Singapore, joining the crowd, the performance began. Many of the dances were performed by the schools affiliated to the Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, which also manages the Thian Hock Keng. On this night, it was a grand event organised by the Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, reminiscent of the old days when Thian Hock Keng was the community centre of the immigrant workers and the residents.
Strains of the Nanyin - Southern Sounds - brought back nostalgic memories to the senior citizens as they recalled the days when their elders would be sitting outside the temple, listening to Nan Yin and the songs that talked about the stories of old China. In a way, joss stick fumes, familiar sights of the Gods and Nanyin brought them the peace and comfort of home in China, which they hoped to return after making a decent earning. Many stayed on instead, and the temporary landscape became permanent. For the young, they were as "blur"as to what it is as the tourists and the new non-Chinese citizens who were invited to join in the Cap Go Meh. In a way, it was reminiscent to the old people and an eye opener to the young. Thanks to the dedicated few who carried on playing the Nanyin in Singapore, and put in efforts to train the young, it is making a comeback. If you have yet to watch or listen to Nanyin, come to Thian Hock Keng on 2M19 (23 Mar 11) at 7.30pm to watch Siong Leng Musical Association perform. This date is the celebrations in honour of Guan Yin in Thian Hock Keng.
When the Nanyin troupe strolled up the street, the whole place suddenly came to a standstill. No loudspeakers to blare the music. What could be heard was coaxed out of the musical instruments (that had been used since more than 2000 years ago). Everyone strained their ears.
And when they passed, the whole place was brought back to the present again with the roll of the drums. For the Chinese, noise is important as it is the yang energies that will chase away the yin (negative) energies. And so, on such an joyous occasion, the louder the noise the better. And yet despite the noise the lions pranced their way around. The full concentration of the lone lion jumping over the stilts in a noisy environment was certainly a feat to be admired!
The other show stealer must have been the bald headed tough and young performers from the Nan Shaolin group. They displayed their prowess with the somersault, twist and turn in mid air and defying the hits of the poles. It was gongfu live to the audience.
The LED-lighted dragons heightened the atmosphere one more notch. If only the place was darkened, it would have been fantastic. But I suppose for security reasons, it is not a good idea. (^^) The biggest lion where the head had to be held by 4 persons and the tail by 2 brought was also there. The Chinese believes that touching the lions would give them the positive energies and so, where possible, the parents would bring their kids to touch them. It is one way the kids are being introduced and brought nearer to them. And in most lion dance performance, during cai qing, the lion would also be giving away sweets, a delight to the kids.
Time passed by so quickly and all the fun and noise had to come to an end, marking the end of the first 15 days and getting further in the year of the Rabbit, with more festivities to come.
To the hardworking team at Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, a great job! I wonder what they are going to outdo themselves again next year. (^^)
By 6pm on that evening, the crowd was already building up by the side of the road, in front of the temple. For many, it is as a tradition and custom to go and pay respects to the Goddess of the Sea, Mazu, and the other resident Gods before looking for a space by the roadside.
The "mee-koo" (bun made into the shape of a tortoise) - which is a symbol of longevity - was laid out as devotees made the offer to the Gods. In the courtyard, there were many sacks of rice, stacked into the shape of the tortoise. Devotees or anyone could seek to bring one back by using the divining blocks to seek permission from the Goddess of the Sea, Mazu.
As the sun set, the lights came on. At 8pm, with the Guest of Honour, the Minister for Manpower, Singapore, joining the crowd, the performance began. Many of the dances were performed by the schools affiliated to the Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, which also manages the Thian Hock Keng. On this night, it was a grand event organised by the Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, reminiscent of the old days when Thian Hock Keng was the community centre of the immigrant workers and the residents.
Strains of the Nanyin - Southern Sounds - brought back nostalgic memories to the senior citizens as they recalled the days when their elders would be sitting outside the temple, listening to Nan Yin and the songs that talked about the stories of old China. In a way, joss stick fumes, familiar sights of the Gods and Nanyin brought them the peace and comfort of home in China, which they hoped to return after making a decent earning. Many stayed on instead, and the temporary landscape became permanent. For the young, they were as "blur"as to what it is as the tourists and the new non-Chinese citizens who were invited to join in the Cap Go Meh. In a way, it was reminiscent to the old people and an eye opener to the young. Thanks to the dedicated few who carried on playing the Nanyin in Singapore, and put in efforts to train the young, it is making a comeback. If you have yet to watch or listen to Nanyin, come to Thian Hock Keng on 2M19 (23 Mar 11) at 7.30pm to watch Siong Leng Musical Association perform. This date is the celebrations in honour of Guan Yin in Thian Hock Keng.
When the Nanyin troupe strolled up the street, the whole place suddenly came to a standstill. No loudspeakers to blare the music. What could be heard was coaxed out of the musical instruments (that had been used since more than 2000 years ago). Everyone strained their ears.
And when they passed, the whole place was brought back to the present again with the roll of the drums. For the Chinese, noise is important as it is the yang energies that will chase away the yin (negative) energies. And so, on such an joyous occasion, the louder the noise the better. And yet despite the noise the lions pranced their way around. The full concentration of the lone lion jumping over the stilts in a noisy environment was certainly a feat to be admired!
The other show stealer must have been the bald headed tough and young performers from the Nan Shaolin group. They displayed their prowess with the somersault, twist and turn in mid air and defying the hits of the poles. It was gongfu live to the audience.
Time passed by so quickly and all the fun and noise had to come to an end, marking the end of the first 15 days and getting further in the year of the Rabbit, with more festivities to come.
To the hardworking team at Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan, a great job! I wonder what they are going to outdo themselves again next year. (^^)
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
A new look at Chinatown
If you are not aware, go take a look at Chinatown before you reach there physically. Whether you are in Singapore or far away from Singapore, this website is certainly a must to visit when you are planning to visit the Chinatown in Singapore. The Chinatown in Singapore has a more colourful name but I will leave it to you to browse through the website to view and read. And yes, plan your trip too!
Some few years ago, IDA (Infocomm Development Authority) and STB (Singapore Tourism Board) were looking for state-of-the-art ideas and solutions to offer tourists and Singaporeans alike a more fun and handy way of discovering Singapore and bringing back memories. It was more of a proof of concept then, as gadgets were still very much in their infancy stage. PDA with bluetooth to handphones through GPRS to the mobile phone network was the idea. Today, iphone (with its 3G mobile data access and GPS) has taken the world by storm and so, for tourists, it would be fun to plan, record and even look for interesting places to see or eat.
Oh, am I talking about Chinatown and heritage? Yes, today, chinatown.sg has the ideas and services in place. I am sure in the months ahead, more gadgets could be added, be it physical or electronic. Thanks to internet and the repositories like youtube.com, many trigger-happy Singaporeans and tourists have recorded vast footage of Singapore, including Chinatown. And some even converted their 8mm movies into video clips. And so, today, we have Chinatown, yesterday, today, and perhaps, even a glimpse of tomorrow.
Like chinatown.sg be the centre of the (spider) web spinning and connecting all things Chinatown so that what you need you can get here. Just don't go astray. And yes, do leave some of your memories behind, I mean, sharing with us, perhaps, via youtube? or provide the links to your blog or photo repository.
Do I sound like I run the chinatown.sg web? Some friends thought so. (^^). No, I am just a fan. After all, this is my home ... (look for one of the popular songs that you will find sung, especially when Singapore's National Day (quiz - when is it?) is around.
Screen captured from the site: http://www.chinatown.sg
Some few years ago, IDA (Infocomm Development Authority) and STB (Singapore Tourism Board) were looking for state-of-the-art ideas and solutions to offer tourists and Singaporeans alike a more fun and handy way of discovering Singapore and bringing back memories. It was more of a proof of concept then, as gadgets were still very much in their infancy stage. PDA with bluetooth to handphones through GPRS to the mobile phone network was the idea. Today, iphone (with its 3G mobile data access and GPS) has taken the world by storm and so, for tourists, it would be fun to plan, record and even look for interesting places to see or eat.
Oh, am I talking about Chinatown and heritage? Yes, today, chinatown.sg has the ideas and services in place. I am sure in the months ahead, more gadgets could be added, be it physical or electronic. Thanks to internet and the repositories like youtube.com, many trigger-happy Singaporeans and tourists have recorded vast footage of Singapore, including Chinatown. And some even converted their 8mm movies into video clips. And so, today, we have Chinatown, yesterday, today, and perhaps, even a glimpse of tomorrow.
Like chinatown.sg be the centre of the (spider) web spinning and connecting all things Chinatown so that what you need you can get here. Just don't go astray. And yes, do leave some of your memories behind, I mean, sharing with us, perhaps, via youtube? or provide the links to your blog or photo repository.
Do I sound like I run the chinatown.sg web? Some friends thought so. (^^). No, I am just a fan. After all, this is my home ... (look for one of the popular songs that you will find sung, especially when Singapore's National Day (quiz - when is it?) is around.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Chinese New Year in the temples of Chinatown Singapore
There were just too many activities, even in a tiny place like the Chinatown in tiny Singapore. But since I have set myself a tradition of visiting Chinese Temples within the greater Chinatown and ending up in the Guan Yin Temple at Waterloo St, I continued to do so for this new year. The exception is that I got along a few more kakis (friends) to join in. So with some 5 cars led by one Frenchman on his trusty iron horse, we went "templing" a word coined by our famous heritage tour guide (also known as the oldest and longest street walker of Singapore) Geraldene Lowe.
The tour started in this little known hillock known to the locals as Ku Ah Sua 龟仔山 (or Ku Kia Sua) in Hokkien or Gui Zai Shan in Mandarin where there was a cluster of three temples. With a short drizzle of fine rain droplets, we went in a convoy (that left through different ways and parked at different locations) to Thian Hock Keng 天福宫. In Chinatown, Thian Hock Keng must be the grandest in ushering the Chinese New Year. It was moving towards what it was like some 50 years ago, when I went to the temple with my Mum in a sa-lian-chia (trishaw). Less smoky these days, thanks to the hard work put by the temple members in removing the joss sticks as the joss urns filled up (and there are less urns these days compared to 5 decades ago) and the acceptance of the people these days, there was more than devotees offering their first joss sticks. Lion Dance, Dragon Dance, Rabbit puppet, Cai Shen 财神 (God of Wealth - an operatic costume worn by a guy from an event company I suppose), and this year, the Techno Tai Zi 太子 (a trend started in Taiwan, the giant puppets of the famous Third Prince). Devotees and tourists mingled, praying and watching. Some locals brought along their foreign friends.
In my entourage, we have friends (who are researchers as well) from France, UK, USA, Japan, Kenya and Malaysia. And within the groups of locals - Chinese, Malays, and Indian too. There were also undergrads who were learning "hands-on"or rather using all their senses such as visual, audio and smell! Taste too. In Wak Hai Cheng Beo (粤海清`庙 Yue Hai Qing Miao), there were the Chinese Olives offered to devotees. The significance of this to the Teochew is in the words "Chi Poh" (green treasure?)
A little out of the epicentre was Wang Hai Da Bo Gong 望海大伯公 temple, which is a Hakka temple. It is at Palmer Rd, off Shenton Way. And then, we ventured further towards Beach Rd, the enclave of the Hainanese. And inside the Hainanese Association building (actually, the building was built in front of the temple which was there first) was the Hainanese Mazu Temple (known as Tian Hou Gong 天后宫).
The grand finale for our tour was the Waterloo St Guan Yin temple where there was still a sizeable crowd at 3am. A visit to the Guan Yin temple is not complete without hopping over to the Krishna Temple to offer our prayer of respects.
Outside Thian Hock Keng
The tour started in this little known hillock known to the locals as Ku Ah Sua 龟仔山 (or Ku Kia Sua) in Hokkien or Gui Zai Shan in Mandarin where there was a cluster of three temples. With a short drizzle of fine rain droplets, we went in a convoy (that left through different ways and parked at different locations) to Thian Hock Keng 天福宫. In Chinatown, Thian Hock Keng must be the grandest in ushering the Chinese New Year. It was moving towards what it was like some 50 years ago, when I went to the temple with my Mum in a sa-lian-chia (trishaw). Less smoky these days, thanks to the hard work put by the temple members in removing the joss sticks as the joss urns filled up (and there are less urns these days compared to 5 decades ago) and the acceptance of the people these days, there was more than devotees offering their first joss sticks. Lion Dance, Dragon Dance, Rabbit puppet, Cai Shen 财神 (God of Wealth - an operatic costume worn by a guy from an event company I suppose), and this year, the Techno Tai Zi 太子 (a trend started in Taiwan, the giant puppets of the famous Third Prince). Devotees and tourists mingled, praying and watching. Some locals brought along their foreign friends.
Entrance to Wak Hai Cheng Beo
In my entourage, we have friends (who are researchers as well) from France, UK, USA, Japan, Kenya and Malaysia. And within the groups of locals - Chinese, Malays, and Indian too. There were also undergrads who were learning "hands-on"or rather using all their senses such as visual, audio and smell! Taste too. In Wak Hai Cheng Beo (粤海清`庙 Yue Hai Qing Miao), there were the Chinese Olives offered to devotees. The significance of this to the Teochew is in the words "Chi Poh" (green treasure?)
Wang Hai Da Bo Gong Temple
A little out of the epicentre was Wang Hai Da Bo Gong 望海大伯公 temple, which is a Hakka temple. It is at Palmer Rd, off Shenton Way. And then, we ventured further towards Beach Rd, the enclave of the Hainanese. And inside the Hainanese Association building (actually, the building was built in front of the temple which was there first) was the Hainanese Mazu Temple (known as Tian Hou Gong 天后宫).
The grand finale for our tour was the Waterloo St Guan Yin temple where there was still a sizeable crowd at 3am. A visit to the Guan Yin temple is not complete without hopping over to the Krishna Temple to offer our prayer of respects.
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