THIS is my girlfriend’s very grownup rental apartment in Regency Park.
3,000 square feet and SGD 10,500 a month in rent <drool> which she grudgingly concedes (being a giant everything-Hong Kong-lover who hailed from the same hometown in Malaysia as me because she’d been there donkey’s years and Tokyo for as long but never lived in Singy til the last few months) is cheap but then there were “like, FIVE” construction sites around the development. Like “FIVE” construction sites rat-a-tatting in your skull while your new baby reminds you you are just a miserable, miserable person for not being able to make her stop crying are a reason to cut the rent on a giant prime-area apartment. Oh, hang on…
Yes, it’s hard to imagine, but there is a real live new baby living in this home. In a color coordinated Baby Bjorn bouncer unless she prefers her equally color coordinated cot. I know because we met. And the preggers friend I said goodbye to in Hong Kong is missing a belly and there’s lotsa breastmilk in the fridge.
It has been 3 years since Rockstar was that age and our place has STILL NEVER looked this put together!!! I blame the hub’s manic “cleaning” sprees – every couple months he does this insane “my home is too cluttered” thing and I lose books I’m in the midst of reading… or furniture. Hello, hot husband – it’s not called “tidying up” if after that you don’t know where anything is. And please don’t scold the dog for leaving hairballs about this summer. Rockstar’s old enough to pick it up, repeat as needed, and inspire me to a life of crime. (Or at least inspire the dog).
And- and – aforementioned Rockstar has now burrowed into their giant sofa. The quiet (Construction sites? What construction sites?) occasionally punctuated by a good-natured coo is replaced by “Mum. My foot is stuck.”
And <muffled> “Mum. Where am I?” On repeat.
Sigh. In our home that would be “Mum. JD’s bothering me.”
“JD! Don’t eat my toys!” (She really doesn’t. Now you see where I get that concern about the hairball-scolding?)
<exasperated growl from our saint of a border collie who very rarely barks, communicating almost solely via whines and grumbles>
You can tell I miss her when we’re away. Especially when we get to East Coast Park.
Fair-skinned Rockstar totally sticks out among the browned Singy kids. Even the girls sport a little tan. This is the “Hongkie” of Rockstar, we bring him back to Malaysia at CNY and he complains it’s “too sunny” and he doesn’t like the glare and heat haha. (We love the sun. We love a tan.)
Even as roller-blading babes skim by… You can get lessons here… (Though at a glance there are way more guy than girl instructors…)
“Where are all the big dogs?”
I can’t keep it in any longer, even though the table with 3 Schnauzers (almost the only dogs we see in this park other than a lone Chihuahua and further down a lone silky terrier) hasn’t been meeting my eye so I can ask them. There are markedly fewer dogs today than when we used to spend all-you-can-eat Sunday brunches here, and none of the little ones are even on the sand, let alone in the water.
3 Schnauzer-ed table don’t really know. They’re not unfriendly, but are certainly not chatty and seem almost a little shy to carry a conversation. Though one of them goes up to the Chihuahua’s owner because it doesn’t look like she has a doggy bag and they don’t want her to leave it on the floor.
Did the rules change, are big dogs outlawed here now, how come there isn’t a single Golden Retriever or Lab – or for that matter Cocker Spaniel even? No, you could still bring them here. But yes, you hardly see any nowadays.
“Think they might all go to Sentosa now.” <Pause>
<Cautiously> “So… where is your dog now?”
I repeat that we’ve moved to Hong Kong, JD’s in a park at least twice a day, and we’re used to seeing big dogs running around – even though you’re technically supposed to leash them, in the really dog friendly areas you can get away with not leasing.
<Pause again> “You really have to leash them here.”
Y-eah we know. JD lived a bit over a year with us in Singapore before we moved. We would visit Botanical Gardens past 9.30pm after work when it was quiet just so we could let her run around for a bit. Once, an aged couple called the cops on us as she ran around in an empty field with another dog. As in, “Hello is that the police? I need to report a crime. There are 2 dogs running here without a leash.” Seriously ok. I didn’t think it was that weird (just a little) when I lived there, but after almost 7 years in Hongkieland I kinda do…
Another time she was running there aged 7months, she ran too near a tween (voice breaking and he was about my height) boy who shrieked. His mum was so mad… She kept saying “If the dog is that uncontrollable you should just kill it. Shoot it.” She said it repeatedly as we beat a fast retreat with our half-grown dog.
Anyway. Said half-grown dog had her last swim here at ECP early in the morning on our last day living here. Today, it’s Rockstar and we miss our dog.
After chocolate martini’s at Morton’s in Mandarin Oriental that is. The Appletinis are pretty awesome too (I’ll take my friend’s word for it, I’m totally out of touch with cocktails because I’m a Shiraz girl except for tonight. Well, very good friend) and it’s very, very quiet (well we wanted to talk) after 10pm happy hour.
And another memory – of Kings’ old roomie/ housemate who just begged and begged to be introduced to my martini-drinking girlfriend, especially after seeing her pics. And then wanting to watch a Korean soap while out on our double date. And shortly after admitting he actually prefers guys.
And I just had to finally add this dizzify-ing pic of the hotel, attached to Marina Square where I used to shoot zombies on a big screen in the arcade and then have problems sleeping from the adrenaline.
I MC-ed a wedding here. Well, 2. I don’t like MC-ing weddings usually, you don’t get to eat. Or sleep. But they are good friends…
And this has to be my goodbye Singapore shot… I have a thing for (unpolluted) highways, always have. (In Hong Kong I’ve settled for the view of umpteen lighted windows in umpteen apartment blocks.) All those little lights going some place. (Or being some place). Each one a totally different life that doesn’t give a damn that I had a bad day in the office. Or just a bad day in general.
That’s how insignificant your average bad day really is.