good atlas

Rochester Park, Buona Vista —Red Hill — Alexandra —Valley Point, River Valley Rd

9.53KM

For the many things I don’t like about Singapore— its artificiality, intense levels of capitalism that transpires into an unrelenting competitive culture, enviable amounts of corporations poaching Malaysians for a better exchange rate / salary, sub-par (but improving) hawker food— there’s one thing just enough to change my mind. And it had: It is wonderful to walk in Singapore. 

In June, I had a some time during a work trip to Singapore. It was 4PM on a Tuesday, and I wanted to get out of my hotel. Did a quick scour on Google Maps and I decided to walk from my hotel in Buona Vista to Redhill, a neighbourhood located three MRT stations away on the green line. I got going, loosely following Google Maps which within minutes, led me to a stairway plastered at the side of a highway. There, a cluster of signs included one marked: RAIL CORRIDOR.

Singapore is small, but not that small. From its southernmost to northernmost point, it spans almost 30KM — a 45 minute drive with light traffic. But imagine this: You could technically walk from one end of Singapore (Woodlands in the north) to the other (Tanjong Pagar in the south), without encountering any cars, trucks, and things related to traffic because Singapore has a dedicated walking and cycling path that takes you along the country’s spine. And that is the Singapore Rail Corridor. 

This hidden-gem to tourists and everyday-utility to Singaporeans was once a functioning railway track— an extension of the KTM line, with its main artery still running in Malaysia but is now defunct in Singapore. If you ran a government or is part of the Urban Development Committee, what would you do if you had a defunct railway track? Build more high-rises along this disused piece of land? Build a shopping mall? Turn the train track into a functioning one again? Or maybe a highway?

Of course it makes perfect sense– except to the Gordon Geckos of the world– to turn it into a walking + cycling path!

This is what the official website describes the Rail Corridor as: 

The 24 km long Rail Corridor is a continuous green passage that allows wildlife movement between major green spaces. It also serves as a recreational corridor for all members of the public.

This was one of the best walks I have had in Singapore. A placid walkway enclosed by trees, young and very old. Shrubs dense enough to shade the random family of chicks and chickens sprawling and thriving all across Singapore. Thriving yam plants with leaves big enough to be a blanket for baby twins. Old trees towering you as your eyes trace from root to branch extending into the cool blue, slightly overcast sky. A walkway punctuated with many benches in case you need to take a water break or whip out a book to read or kindle a conversation with a friend or stranger. What a fantastic thing to exist!

The Corridor was a long and meandering one. A well-paved path. A clean path. It runs parallel to a major highway but I barely noticed the machinery and clockwork running in tandem with this path. It was two worlds apart and all that made the difference were the trees and foliage hugging one world from the other. Quiet enough that you could listen to the world speak to you. All I had to do was continue walking, and continue walking I did— just let my feet do the work and effortlessly get into a sort of auto-pilot mode so that the walk easily becomes meditative. I didn’t have to think about traffic. I didn’t have to watch out for cars, to stop and look before crossing roads and busy intersections. All I really had to do is walk. It was this sensation that felt both grounding and uplifting at the same time. I could listen to my breath, actually feel the ground connecting with my feet, interrupted only by the occasional walker, cyclist, construction detour or chicken. I could displace my headspace and attention to traffic with a closer attention to trees and birds and the unperturbed stream of thought amalgamating into something worth remembering.

Like that scene where a brown shrike flew past me to perch on the ground, with a bright green grasshopper between its beak. 

I don’t quite know how to describe what this ease this really means. But to my fellow Malaysians, let me try: Imagine, being able to walk along Federal Highway in Kuala Lumpur, from Subang Jaya all the way to Kuala Lumpur in a vehicular void. At any point, you could turn off at Sunway or Petaling Jaya or Bangsar or Seputeh. Imagine you could walk uninterrupted and with an actual destination in mind, unlike parks which are the destination themselves, and actually arrive at that place without risking death from cars or the unforgiving sun.

In the thrum of the city, this was constructed oasis. And it was good. Well appreciated. Something worth replicating.

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I could go on for longer, but I started to get hungry. So at kilometre 4.x, I exited and headed towards Redhill.

At Redhill, I turned away from the main road and walked along Hoy Fatt Road, flanked by factories and HDB flats. I was looking for something to eat. Something with carbs. A place that didn’t require cash because I was too lazy to exchange any. After what felt like a hundred high-rises, I came upon a cluster of bold maroon blocks that caught my eye — HDB Lengkok Bahru. I sat at its cascading staircase at the HDB entrance with two other uncles. Another water break. On the ground floor of the flats common of all HDBs and flats are shoplots, some new, like a charming little cafe called Desert Dessert, and some old, like Kong Meng Barbershop. I stood outside to take a photograph of the barbershop’s neon sign. An uncle sitting on a plastic chair at the five-foot way asked me to go inside: Is this for a school project? he asks in Mandarin. Go inside-lah. Are you sure? I asked. Ya sure no problem. 

Well, OK. Thank you!

All the paraphernalia you expect to see in an old barbershop: Chinese calendars with bold green and red lettering, one day a page. An array of sleek orange and black combs. Mirrors facing mirrors. A black and white portrait of a male ancestor. Nearby, more photos of magazine cut outs of potential hairstyles patrons could choose from, all dated as if from the 80s-90s. Tubs of hair gel. Clippers. Ear-diggers. Lots of wooden ear-diggers bundled and placed in a makeshift bottle that is now an ear-digger holder.

The barber and one customer asked no questions as if I wasn’t there. I meekly asked if I could photograph them and they said OK. They didn’t speak to each other either. It was quiet except for a faint Mandarin music in the background. I stood closely, watching Mr Barber next to his standing lamp as he dug his patron’s ear. Right side then left side. Man, oh man. This is the sort of thing I wished still existed as a service. Everyone (in some parts of Asia) know what an endearing and very pleasurable experience it is to have your ear dug by someone. I never had my ears dug by a “professional” before. But I always loved it when I could lie on my partner’s lap while she puts on a headlamp and worked away the grit from my canals. Ear-digging is quite like a special kind of love language. 

I stopped by Old Chang Kee at Redhill MRT Station for a quick bite. Bought a ham chin peng which I happily ate while I sat on the many public seats in outside the station. I was not alone. Every bench was taken up by someone either eating or on the phone or talking to someone else, or just…sitting. 

However far this piece of ham chin peng could sustain me, I walked some more along yet another surprise: Singapore’s Park Connector until I decided this is enough and went for dinner.

I went back to the hotel (with Grab, of course). Scribbled some notes. Checked some emails. Watched an episode of Shameless. Fell asleep almost instantly. Excellent Sleep Score, my Garmin watch says the next morning.

I’ll say it, I’ll say it. Singapore can be a tender place to be. A generous place to walk along, as long as you’re not trapped in shopping malls or tunneling underground from one MRT station to the next. The open road is where you want to be because, finally, there you have it—some headspace to notice a random thing or two or maybe even more.