During my stay in Punggol, I had walked down the same path from the bus stop to my block approximately 120 evenings. I could not remember a single scene that was even slightly curious to remain in memory, much less something flashing neon yellow, calling my name in dire desperation. The only intriguing figure in the neighbourhood was an aged bearded uncle who drives a 20-year-old Proton Saga, possibly only from the carpark to Punggol Plaza and back. I despise such comfortable monotony. This was definitely my strongest reason for moving here. I somehow know I don’t have to look very hard to find an intriguing sight.
I was rewarded on my second day. While waiting for the tram, I spotted a head of shoulder-length white hair complete with as much a beard bobbing atop a bicycle. His oufit reminds me of an ancient Jane Fonda Exercise video tape I owned. Looking beyond him, I saw that he has two kiddy carts attached to his bicycle. His black mongrel had escaped from one of the carts but was promptly yelled back into place. The other kart held miscellaneous items that look like his entire life savings. Talk about a home on wheels.
Nonetheless, don’t be surprised to see a real kiddo in one of these carts tagged to a bicycle. Many mothers here really do transport their toddlers around as such. Each time I see one, I laugh out loud as I imagine my grandmother’s bulging eyes and hysterical disbelief. She was one to make sure a six-month-old grandson sits quietly to play and a twelve-year-old granddaughter crosses the road with her hand in daddy’s.
To date, six weeks here, I have spotted a modest number of five drunkards (one was pissing into the bushes of the church opposite my building. Hee…). Gatherings of the ‘lost’ outside the supermarket I go to are frequent. Neon-coloured Mohawk punks in their gothic outfits with huge dogs are by now the symbol of the city’s train station.
Having sailed to the most unimaginable ports of the world, lived in Singapore for a year and Brazil for two, even the Mister commented last night, much to my amusement, as we walked past a chopstick-thin guy with green spikes on his head and fifty rings on his face, “Jesus…There are definitely many special people here around huh…”