Singapore prides itself in the high standards of living it offers its residents; it prides itself on convenience, efficiency and cleanliness. Living in Singapore is hassle free, non chaotic and mostly incident free except for little things here and there which are worth mentioning.
1) Early Morning Buses (7 AM to 9 AM):
Singapore is one of the most densely populated nations in the world. It is a city with a population of 4.5 million which is quite large considering it is more than the entire population of the country of New Zealand (fun fact: Sheep outnumber humans and rugby players in NZ 20:1) . You can feel the brunt of the population when you need to take a bus on any weekday morning. Buses pass by you, too full to pick you up. When you finally manage to squeeze into the bus into a crack small enough to fit a very thin Chihuahua, you realize the suffering just started. There you are, early in the morning, instead of being all springy and fresh, compressed between school bags, shopping trolleys and holding your breathe because your sure the guy in front of you did not shower in a hurry.
You look into the distance and see an empty seat (equivalent to seeing a Unicorn in the middle of Orchard Road) and you leap for it. You are stopped mid air by something which resembles an umbrella which delivers a agonizing poke to your shin. Your vision goes hazy from the poke and the fact that your heavy bag is pressing on some important artery and cutting out the blood supply. You have just been poked by an old Aunty, the terror of morning buses. They get on the bus in packs armed with umbrellas to poke you and the shopping trolleys to run over your feet. While you are howling from the pain, like a swift ninja, they occupy the remaining seats. When my vision finally recovered, I noticed a fast moving blur and then a Chinese lady in her 70s appeared on the seat.
2) Taxi Drivers in Singapore:
Somehow I prefer quiet rides when I take a taxi. When I am spending a few extra dollars, I wish to leave the chaos and bedlam behind and enjoy the air con in the taxi while lying in a semi comatose state barely held vertical by the seat belt. My day dreams enhanced by the warm sunlight streaming through the trees of Clementi Road is suddenly interrupted by a “Kaise Ho?”. I look outside to reassure myself that I am still in Singapore. Did the Malay taxi driver ask me how I am doing in Hindi? I conjured up my best Hindi (Hindi has never been my strength, barely passed it when I had it as third language) and could come up only with an “Accha”. He showed off his knowledge of Hindi which uncomfortably was slightly better than mine. In spite of me trying to discourage him by mumbling some reply, his enthusiasm only grew. His next question was “Are you from Poonjab?”. At five feet seven inches in height (Std deviation: 2 inch) I would be undoubtedly be the shame of Punjab. Luckily my drop off point was close and I left the cab with 7 dollars poorer and a Hindi lesson.
Taxi drivers in Singapore have stepped in my little paradise (my mid morning intoxicated state) and offered me financial advice, relationship advice and career advice. The fact that I chose a DBS Credit Card, I went to Bali and chose Physics for my career maybe because of a cabbie’s advice rooted in my subconscious.
3) The 5 Cent Coin
I hate the 5 cent coin. If there was such a thing with no purpose whatsoever (Reality shows, Sarah Palin and Scientology belonging to the same category), the 5 cent coin will top the list. It is never there when you need it, and it’s always clanking around in your pocket or wallet when you don’t need it.
What if the 5 cent coin was never there? Is there anything in Singapore which costs 5 cents? If you are kidnapped, your parents cannot pay off your ransom in 5 cent coins. Your piggy bank will turn slim on a low calorie diet of 5 cent coins. Try paying off a cabbie with 5 cents coins and he will drive you to the nearest mental institution or police station.
4) Mustafa Center:
Mustafa center is the representative of everything “Un-Singaporean”. It is noisy, chaotic and has salespeople trying their best not to make a sale. Located bang in the middle of Little India (For Harry Potter there is Voldemort, For Neo there is Agent Smith, For Orchard Road there is Little India), surrounded by shops blaring loud Hindi music, it sells everything from Chapattis to spacesuits.
Ignoring the fact that is a glorified warehouse with sour faced sales staff, the shoppers really bother me with their attitude. While rest of the world goes to a beach, a zoo, a restaurant on weekends, Indians in Singapore treat shopping at Mustafa as a family outing. Ranging from ages of 2 to 80, they are all there in full force armed with prams and trolleys clogging up the narrow passageways. Occasionally you see a three year old girl prancing around while her pram is being used to transport packets of rice.
I would like to propose a three lane system for faster movement inside Mustafa. Leftmost lane is for senior citizens and children on prams, center lane is for fast moving adults with trolleys and the right most lane is to overtake(if necessary) to grab the last carton of Amul milk.
Things worth mentioning:
TV Mobile: Few years back, someone decided to put television on buses and TVmobile was born. Apparently listening to music or reading a book is not a productive way of spending you time traveling, but staring glassy eyed at a screen with uninteresting programs is. You try to avoid it but it catches up to you. I had tried not looking at the screen, but the distributed speakers in the bus manage to penetrate even the best of noise reduction headphones. There you are like mindless zombies watching programs who you never watch in any other situations. Programs like a drama series called “Red Thread” where the protagonist, a blind man, is wearing a watch. The programs become more and more bizarre as the hours roll by. I was on a Night Ride bus on the other day at 1 AM in the morning and they were showing a German cooking show where they make a broccoli cake.
General “Over planning” of Singaporeans:
Singaporeans are serial anti procrastinators. Who wouldn’t when you have the internet, 3G mobile, AXS machines, SAM machines and all other modern technology to help your paranoia? I, the serial procrastinator, am a victim of circumstances in this country. Being late to take action, I never managed to get a ticket to a concert, a ticket to a weekend movie and lately, a good lesson time for my driving training (this is also because I was too late to prevent my Indian License from expiring). The Driving center booking is the epitome of the booking habits of Singaporeans. Classes two to three months have been booked in advance and I always end up getting the undesirable late night session. There I am driving blind as a bat in the night while the instructor ironically asks me to check my “Blind Spot”. The booking habit will become such deep rooted in the future that grandparents will be booking driving tests for unborn grandchildren. When a child is born, he/she will be presented with a birth certificate and the booking statement for his Basic Driving Theory test.
