MRT Project: Week 2
Imaginary rules, big expectations and little labels
I stepped out of the crisp, air conditioned MRT station into a steamy courtyard framed by HBD buildings, little shops crammed floor to ceiling with housewares and the Marine Terrace Market. It’s week two of my MRT Project and this is my second excursion to intentionally spend time exploring Singapore.
What I’m quickly coming to realize is that I’ve created some crazy rules and unrealistic expectations for this project. So, as I explore this week, I let go of a few things:
Although it’s making my head glitchy to think about, I am not going to try and visit the stations in a methodical, one line at a time, way. Some days I’ll set off with intentionality to visit the area around a station and other days will explore where the needs of the week take me. This week I had my engagement ring repaired (small crack in the band) in Little India and a meet up with my sponsor in Woodleigh Park. I also took Butterbean for her grooming and checked off two stations just for the pleasure of visiting, noticing and wondering. Whether I am visiting for no other reason than to explore, or I am building in extra time on an errand to wander and wonder, either way I am inviting myself to constantly “pay attention, be astonished and tell about it.
I will not have some deep, spiritual experience at every location. Hell, it’s unlikely that something profound will come from more than a handful of these excursions. As a teacher of mine once said, you can’t pry open a rose with a crowbar. I’m not going to try to force some preconceived expectations to manifest, I just want to show up and notice my noticing.
Where I’ve Been This Week
This week, I visited Marine Terrace, Little India, Woodleigh, Tanjong Katong and Katong Park.
I’ve also checked off the stations where my daily and weekly routines take me, such as Bedok, Marine Parade, Maxwell (Chinatown) and our own stop, Siglap. I may write about these locales in the future, especially Chinatown, but those will come when the spirit moves me, not on some imaginary timeline that I’ve assigned myself.
What I Noticed
I noticed mangoes and bananas growing in small patches along the sidewalk. I noticed public housing and lush landed homes nestled side by side. I noticed crazy-cool architecture. I noticed a huge tree my sponsor lovingly calls the Faraway Tree, a nod to the beloved books of her childhood. I noticed brightly colored fish laid out on ice in the Marine Terrace wet market.
I noticed (and bought) lavender Le Creuset pieces from an uncle displaying his wares on wobbly folding tables. And I noticed knotty old trees carefully protected from the never-ending march of progress.
I noticed that when I stop to look at a map in the station, or to check directions on my phone, that I have a twinge of paranoia because of the cameras like every eight inches here. Maybe you know that feeling, like when you are driving and doing absolutely everything right and a cop car swings in behind or beside you and all of a sudden you start giving “I’m not up to anything” vibes. And I am a white lady, so I can’t even imagine how much more a sense of dread comes over someone who is merely driving while Black.
I noticed city parks getting glow-ups, new condos climbing into the bright blue sky, and quite a few puppies for sale shops that make me feel all confused. I want to go in and play with them (and bring a baker’s dozen home), but I’m also sad that they are stuck in small spaces, bred to be sold in the first place when there are SO many sweet fur babies in shelters who need a good home.
I want to check my western-informed judgement, but when do my values get weigh in on a cultural norm outside of my culture?
And I noticed that I was sticking out like a sore thumb in some of the non-toursity neighborhoods.
I noticed so many kind people, some who are chatty and curious about the ang mo in places where tourists and expats don’t typically visit. If you spend any time wandering around Singapore, you’ll eventually hear the term “ang mo.” It’s one way people here refer to white or Caucasian folks. Most of the time it’s rather benign, more observational than pointed. But, even when it is derisive, I find I’m not much bothered by this othering, because well, I am the immigrant, and white folx have been othering, oppressing, occupying and obliterating indigenous people for an eternity.
I noticed when an auntie called me a tai tai to the young man running the stall at Marine Terrace where I ordered AH-MAZING teochew noodle for lunch.
Tai tai simply means “madam” or “wife.” Sometimes it’s said as a boast, sometimes with a wink of gentle teasing. Here in Singaporean, a tai tai is understood to be a well-to-do married woman who doesn’t need to work and spends her days managing the household, meeting friends for long lunches, shopping along Orchard Road, or lingering over tea. There’s lots of lululemon involved. You know, ladies who lunch. Or in some circles, Trad Wife.
I don’t think of myself as tai tai, not really.
But if I’m honest, I do enjoy relative abundance, albeit signfincatly less than the luxury lovers in Crazy Rich Asians.
I both defy and totally lean into gender roles. While my spouse is enthusiastically pursuing her career (and underwriting this whole adventure), I do go to more lunches, coffees, and walks in the park with little dogs than I might like to admit.
It is an immense privilege to not have to clock in and out of a traditional job every day, so I guess I get to add tai tai to the growing list of labels that are mine to wear.
What I Wonder
While in Little India, I got to explore the cacophony of sound, color, smell and energy that fills the air between Race Course Rd and Serangoon Road.
The wondering that percolated up for me was a delightful mix of awe and curiosity as I wove in and around vendors selling hundreds, maybe thousands, of flower garlands. I understand that in Hindu tradition, flowers are central to puja, the Sanskrit word for worship. Garlands made from fresh blooms and leaves are offered to the Gods, draped over statues and sacred images in temples and home altars alike. It’s a quiet act of devotion: beauty given back to the Divine.
Garlands aren’t just for the altar, they also appear at weddings, festivals, and community celebrations. Sometimes they’re hung as decoration; other times they are placed around someone’s neck as a gesture of blessing, welcome, or honor.
Here’s a nice video I found when I started digging around to learn more.
And I’ll leave you with this
I also wondered what made me weep while watching one of the SG Cares videos playing on the monitors that hang over the platforms. I searched for it online, but it only seems to appear in someone’s Instagram account. It’s not quite as heart-wrenching as that damn Arms of the Angel commercial, but close.
Very much enjoying being introduced to Singapore.