Cross-section of Singapore
I've vaguely mentioned this phenomena in a long-ago post, but given that I didn't elaborate fully back then, and the recent dearth of posts, I'm revisiting this old musing. It's not really an old musing, cos I'm sure I notice it pretty often. However, the thought only crystallised with such clarity yesterday as I took the bus back from dinner and dessert.
It was a normal bus ride back home from City Hall MRT. I pretty much do it every school day. In the first deck of the SuperBus, sitting facing two Malay girls, was this old man. He had wiry silver hair, bulgy eyes, a really gaunt look on his face, a frame that was almost all bones and he kinda stank like a person who showers once in three days. Every ten seconds or so, he'd look towards the girls (they were about their twenties) and give two or three curt nods.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that action (and its associated glint-in-eyes look) will pass off as a -ummm- pass in any nightclub.
The girls probably knew that he was staring and nodding in their direction, but they ignored him. The scene got me thinking about all the other weird characters I've noticed on my bus rides. A particularly memorable instance was this other old man with thick glasses who wears an army jockey cap. Every five minutes, he'd get off his seat, turn around to face it, stare it up and down for a while, then get back on. Another chap I remembered was this thirty-something man who dressed like a China-man (navy blue pants, white short-sleeved button-down shirt -tucked out, worn leather shoes). He was lying across 4 seats along the back of the SuperBus catching some shut-eye. His shoes were arranged neatly on the floor in front of the seats and he was showing his unbranded socks for all of us to see.
I then thought about how the bus provided one with a wholesome cross-section of Singapore. Besides these strange characters, you also have the lanky youths in their drainpipe jeans and over-sized T-shirts, bony shoulders jutting out awkwardly under the black cotton, chatting blissfully on their iphones with their girlfriends. There are the Filipino domestic helpers chatting happily with one another after their day out at Lucky Plaza. There are the workers from Bangladesh and India. The old chinese couple, sitting together, holding hands and communicating without exchanging any words, trained from over thirty years of marriage; as blissful as they were when they first went out to pak tor. Then there are the people who wear their power suits, neatly pulled-back hair and manicured nails, wearing their favoured blue blouse to face the torrent of work on Mondays.
Even the driver can be an exhibit sometimes: faces plain as they go about doing their job, watching expressionlessly as people tap their cards. However, watch them as they try to filter across 4 lanes within the space of two junctions and that face is all alertness, concentration and a bit of cunning determination.
Sometimes I wonder about "the elites" in Singapore: people who had sheltered childhoods, cruised through the best schools, got scholarships and Swords-of-Honour, climbed fast and high in their careers and end up leading Singapore. Sometimes I wonder if they have the pleasure of watching the cross-section of Singapore unfold before their eyes. -Jimmy
It was a normal bus ride back home from City Hall MRT. I pretty much do it every school day. In the first deck of the SuperBus, sitting facing two Malay girls, was this old man. He had wiry silver hair, bulgy eyes, a really gaunt look on his face, a frame that was almost all bones and he kinda stank like a person who showers once in three days. Every ten seconds or so, he'd look towards the girls (they were about their twenties) and give two or three curt nods.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that action (and its associated glint-in-eyes look) will pass off as a -ummm- pass in any nightclub.
The girls probably knew that he was staring and nodding in their direction, but they ignored him. The scene got me thinking about all the other weird characters I've noticed on my bus rides. A particularly memorable instance was this other old man with thick glasses who wears an army jockey cap. Every five minutes, he'd get off his seat, turn around to face it, stare it up and down for a while, then get back on. Another chap I remembered was this thirty-something man who dressed like a China-man (navy blue pants, white short-sleeved button-down shirt -tucked out, worn leather shoes). He was lying across 4 seats along the back of the SuperBus catching some shut-eye. His shoes were arranged neatly on the floor in front of the seats and he was showing his unbranded socks for all of us to see.
I then thought about how the bus provided one with a wholesome cross-section of Singapore. Besides these strange characters, you also have the lanky youths in their drainpipe jeans and over-sized T-shirts, bony shoulders jutting out awkwardly under the black cotton, chatting blissfully on their iphones with their girlfriends. There are the Filipino domestic helpers chatting happily with one another after their day out at Lucky Plaza. There are the workers from Bangladesh and India. The old chinese couple, sitting together, holding hands and communicating without exchanging any words, trained from over thirty years of marriage; as blissful as they were when they first went out to pak tor. Then there are the people who wear their power suits, neatly pulled-back hair and manicured nails, wearing their favoured blue blouse to face the torrent of work on Mondays.
Even the driver can be an exhibit sometimes: faces plain as they go about doing their job, watching expressionlessly as people tap their cards. However, watch them as they try to filter across 4 lanes within the space of two junctions and that face is all alertness, concentration and a bit of cunning determination.
Sometimes I wonder about "the elites" in Singapore: people who had sheltered childhoods, cruised through the best schools, got scholarships and Swords-of-Honour, climbed fast and high in their careers and end up leading Singapore. Sometimes I wonder if they have the pleasure of watching the cross-section of Singapore unfold before their eyes. -Jimmy
posted by Jimmy at 8:16 PM
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