The Visitor (Part 2/3)

The Thai tourist was into his second day of visit in Singapore. It was his third destination in his South East Asian tour following Malaysia and Myanmar.

“The food is very salty,” he remarked, taking a bite off the fried carrot cake the locals got for him to try.

The Food Street, often promoted by the Singapore Tourism Board, was devoid of locals. Those who occupied the seats were tourists, most likely to have found out about the place from their guidebooks.

“I told you to go to Chinatown Market food centre, but you insisted on coming here,” quipped Bing, the humble Singaporean who seemed more familiar with cheap and good local cuisines as compared to Adam.

“Well, I thought that since this place is widely publicised by the tourism board, it should at least be good,” retorted Adam, who was somewhat displeased, but having a tinge of guilt at the same time because he pays more attention to what’s good in Madrid and San Francisco than what’s good in Singapore. Both men seemed to be in an argument; their social divide couldn’t be made more obvious from the content of their conversation.

Picture: from Lim Wei Li’s blog, without permission.

“Blame it on the success of the Singapore marketing machine,” added Adam.

He obviously knew what he was saying. Never could he imagine that this small city state of his with only 640 square kilometres in size can manage to attract millions of tourists each year. With barely 40 years of history and being 100% urbanised, its appeal can easily be beaten by other countries hands down with their historical monuments, off-the-track offerings, and rich heritage. He never really understood the pull factor of his country, because he is often complaining of the lack of things to do. Even with so many shopping malls around, its outlets are repetitive. He then recollected his sightings of the tourism board’s promotional advertisements on London cabs and New York City billboards and probably realised why.

“I’ve heard of your famous icon, the Merlion. Do bring me there later, okay?” the Thai tourist added, reinforcing Adam’s viewpoint, as he tried to come to terms with the fact that this fish-lion hybrid national symbol that is supposed to represent Singapore as a lion city and Singapore’s roots as a fishing village, was regarded as an “icon” of his country in the eyes of tourists, when in fact he didn’t have any genuine affinity with the Merlion as the Thais would have with their elephants. Having said that, he didn’t know what to feel, because at the same time, he understood where the Tourism Board was coming from – the country’s economy being heavily reliant on external factors with tourists and their spending contributing to a large part of it. There was just the need to enhance the country’s appeal to foreign visitors, when it has neither much land nor a rich history to begin with.

Picture: from flickr, without permission.

“Hmm,” the Thai tourist took another bite off the fried carrot cake. His interest went back to the food, after taking a gulp of coca-cola to dilute some of its saltiness. “So… I’m eating carrot cake. Is this how typical Singaporean food tastes like?”

Adam gulped. Singaporean food? He has never heard that question before. Have we got our very own original Singaporean food, he wondered. Char Kway Teow. Wait, that’s Chinese food isn’t it? Bak Kut Teh. That’s chinese too. He brainstormed further. What about chicken rice? Oh, that’s kinda chinese. Roti Prata is Indian. Nasi Bryani is Malay. He wondered if there was ever a definition for “Singaporean food”.

Bing took over the conversation, “Because Singapore is a multi-racial and culturally diverse society, each race has its own delicacies. There’s no Singaporean food per se. But somehow, Singaporeans miss their food especially when they are overseas. Right, Adam?”

Adam pondered for a few seconds and replied, “That’s so true. Although we don’t have our so-called Singaporean cuisines, we can’t find them anywhere else other than in Malaysia and Singapore. Well, we may not have our own unique identity. But we’re special.”

The Thai tourist nodded, trying to swallow his mouthful of food and digest what his Singaporean friends has said.

All of a sudden, the Thai visitor looked up and froze. His gaze seemed to be directed at something at a distance. Putting down his chopsticks, he blinked several times. His eyes, now not moving at all, were still fixated at that direction. Adam and Bing looked at their Thai friend curiously.

The garbage truck pulled to less than 5 metres away from their table at the roadside, and stopped.

Adam and Bing turned back, and saw the worker of Indian descent lift the bin at the roadside, one hand holding on to the grip on the truck, the other emptying the bin into the rear of the truck. The engine roared ferociously, spewing white smoke from its exhaust near its tyres.

“I cannot believe it,” thought the Thai tourist, eyes still fixated on the garbage truck. His hands that were resting on the table, clenched into fists. He was in utter disbelief.

Adam looked at Bing, who was still puzzled.

“Bing… the garbage truck… had no freaking smell.”

–

Part III will be posted later this week.

The Visitor (Part 1/3)

The next time you pass by the Singapore River, perhaps take time to see its colour.
The next time you see a garbage truck, perhaps take time to smell it.
The next time you go to another country, perhaps take time to appreciate what you have in Singapore.

And the next time you work, perhaps take time to think: What am I working for?

“Singapore is very nice. Very modern,” quipped the Thai tourist as they walked down the Parliament House, clearly mesmerised by the brief moment of tranquility amidst the busy city with the silhouettes of the buildings forming the Singapore skyline composed of Suntec City, Marina Mandarin and the Singapore Flyer.

“We have only 40 years of history, but we are where we are now thanks to our forefathers who toiled for our generation to reap the fruits of labour,” Bing took a line off his history textbook, half knowing that he, being the ambassador of Singapore, should say nice things about his country.

“That’s right. And we have our founding father Lee Kuan Yew who had the wisdom and vision for Singapore, together with an excellent team of people, built the country up from third world to first in just 40 years,” Adam joined in the praise, equally proud of what his country has achieved over the years. “And not forgetting our hardworking workforce who contributed to our economic prosperity too,” he added.

The cool wind stroked their faces, not too warm and not too cold – the temperature just right to make one very comfortable.

“You know, when people sing praises of our country, I am always somewhat in a dilemma,” Adam said to Bing, as they walked on. Bing was surprised at his remark. “There are so many bad things about Singapore. Our country is well known to be tops at the good stuff. But sometimes, they make headlines for the wrong reasons as well.”

“Hmm…Wh…aat are you talking about?”

“I’m saying about our country being very pragmatic. We strive for tops for the practical stuffs. But often we neglect the intangibles. Little things like the Happy Planet Index. Our citizens are among the most unhappy people in the region, you know that?”

“Well, I’m happy everyday. I think maybe you’re thinking too much,” retorted Bing, obviously not being very aware of news, politics and current affairs.

“You’re living in your own world. Maybe you should leave your turtle shell and read up more, my friend.”

“Why should I care. They don’t bother me. I study hard, work hard, earn money, and be happy. Knowing all these won’t make my life any better.”

Adam did not respond. The three of them continued walking on the well-paved footpath along the road, free of litter and bumps. The bustling city orchestra was now reduced to the music of the silent symphony made up of cars that whizzed by occasionally.

They walked a short distance more, and arrived at the Singapore River, overlooking Clarke Quay. They could hear faint screams coming from the reverse bungee facility a short distance away.

“Ha ha, A river. Very nice lighting and very nice atmosphere down here,” chirped their Thai friend. Adam and Bing looked at each other and smiled. After all, they have been proud of their country and all the national education they’ve been through since young further instilled their patriotism. “But…I won’t be surprised to know that the colour of the water is yellow. Well, it doesn’t smell, but you might never know.”

Both men were taken aback by what the Thai tourist had said. Suddenly, it came to their realisation that even though they knew that there was nothing in their knowledge they couldn’t answer, the sheer audacity of this remark left them almost speechless. Nobody had spoke with such conviction and assertiveness to be almost certain that he will be proven right. What’s more, it’s a statement about the quality of things in Singapore that’s being thrown to them. They have grown so used to life being that way, taking everything for granted to the extent that they have failed to appreciate how fortunate they are, living with many privileges other people elsewhere don’t get to enjoy.

Adam replied calmly: “It’s clean water, my friend. Many years ago the colour was yellow. So the government ordered the cleaning up of the river, and since then, it has remained that way.”

“Oh really?” the Thai tourist responded, his eyebrows raised. “Well, I certainly wish our Thai government is that effective.” There was a tinge of disappointment in his tone. Or was it envy. Nobody could tell. After all, he had been living with what he has in his country for so many years. This little eye-opener was perhaps, something he accepted exists only in Singapore and not in his home country in his lifetime.

“Let’s go have our dinner,” Adam suggested, pointing the way down to Chinatown, where he could bring his Thai friend to sample local food.

–

Part II will be posted later this week.