Now, I used to be a hardcore Westie. I was as loyal as they come. The west is vibrant, convenient and packed with plenty of food options.
But I discovered something entirely unexpected: It’s nicer in the east. Specifically, I've had a lot more nice encounters in the east.
Every time I’ve gone to the nearest supermarket and hailed a hire car home, the driver has gone out of his way to help me load and unload my groceries.
At the lift lobby, not only do my neighbours hold the door open when I’m a good distance away, complete strangers have spontaneously picked up and carried heavy loads for me.
In my part of the west, making non-hostile eye contact counts as a friendly encounter. If it lasts beyond half a second, though, it’s grounds for suspicion.
Here in the east, even the Shopee lady who delivers my online purchases to the door chirrups sweetly, “Have a nice day. Remember to wash your hands, ah.” Back in the west, the Ninja Van guy who picks up my return parcels just chides me passive-aggressively about not printing an extra label.
I think it’s something to do with the relative abundance of nature out here. Taking a stroll to the beach and getting there in five minutes; owl-spotting in Pasir Ris Park; looking at starfish and sea cucumbers up close at Changi’s intertidal coastline; and exploring the Lorong Halus Wetland are activities so restorative, I’d wager that even the most miserable crosspatch would find their stress levels lowered.
There are more large, open spaces and fewer pedestrians crowding the footpaths. There are many more residents – and food delivery riders, too – who get around on bicycles instead of cars or motorcycles. Life seems a little more chill in the far east.
And after a couple of months of living with a forest of trees just outside my window, my optometrist even found that my nearsightedness had improved significantly. (I then had to spend a few hundred on new prescription glasses, but, oh well, you win some, you lose some.)
The downside is that the bugs are friendlier, too – and there seem to be giant, mutant species out here, like cicadas on steroids that drop by without an invitation, palm-sized moths with a “mi casa, su casa” philosophy, and a spider that keeps reappearing in our bathroom no matter how many times I’ve whacked it with a slipper. We’ve named it Eduardo and resigned ourselves to its recurring incarnations.
Okay, so not all nature is enchanting. But, bug-battling aside, I swear other humans would find me full of sweetness and light.
Sadly, my friends won’t benefit from the new, nicer, less-stressed me with better vision, as they’ve flatly refused to come visit me in the east. “So far away!” they protest.
And, ay, there’s the rub: It really does take forever to get from here to, well, anywhere. To save time and money, the trick is to schedule all the errands that need to be run in town into one day, like a hermit descending from a rural mountaintop once a month to visit the post office and barter a new harness for the mule.
As for the friends – ah, well, we’re social distancing, anyway.
This part of town might not be known for good food, but there are some delightful home-based businesses sprouting in the Pasir Ris area.
MJ Teoh, for instance, who used to work in the kitchens of Michelin-starred Nouri and Bacchanalia, makes delicious Mexican tamales at home from scratch – a big labour of love – in addition to a wicked chilli sauce made according to her mother’s recipe and named Ah Moy’s Homemade Chilli after her, too.
Then there’s Trishnu Kaur, who brews pots and pots of fragrant spiced tea under the name The Chai Baba. You can get her masala chai made with soy milk or oat milk, and even choose the sugar level and whether you’d like coconut sugar instead of regular.
Want an Instagrammable pastry? Puffs And Peaks in Tampines makes donuts stuffed with jammy, custardy fillings ranging from blackcurrant peanut butter to taro coconut, as well as brownies, cookies, breads and other baked treats.
I'm definitely not losing any weight in the east. But as life would have it, just as I’ve gotten used to being an Eastie, it’s time for me to move again. It's okay, because I’m looking forward to discovering my new neighbourhood. And to bidding goodbye to Eduardo.
Meanwhile, the great east-west debate will most certainly rage on, and never the twain shall meet. If you’re an Eastie, you’ll probably have thought of lots of other great things about your part of the east. And if you’re a Westie, you’ve probably already drafted the scathing comment you’re going to leave under this article. That’s all part of the charm of our Singapore.
If you live in Yishun, though, say hi to the UFOs.
https://cnalifestyle.channelnewsasia.com/trending/east-vs-west-singapore-eastie-westie-15300250
But I discovered something entirely unexpected: It’s nicer in the east. Specifically, I've had a lot more nice encounters in the east.
Every time I’ve gone to the nearest supermarket and hailed a hire car home, the driver has gone out of his way to help me load and unload my groceries.
At the lift lobby, not only do my neighbours hold the door open when I’m a good distance away, complete strangers have spontaneously picked up and carried heavy loads for me.
In my part of the west, making non-hostile eye contact counts as a friendly encounter. If it lasts beyond half a second, though, it’s grounds for suspicion.
Here in the east, even the Shopee lady who delivers my online purchases to the door chirrups sweetly, “Have a nice day. Remember to wash your hands, ah.” Back in the west, the Ninja Van guy who picks up my return parcels just chides me passive-aggressively about not printing an extra label.
I think it’s something to do with the relative abundance of nature out here. Taking a stroll to the beach and getting there in five minutes; owl-spotting in Pasir Ris Park; looking at starfish and sea cucumbers up close at Changi’s intertidal coastline; and exploring the Lorong Halus Wetland are activities so restorative, I’d wager that even the most miserable crosspatch would find their stress levels lowered.
There are more large, open spaces and fewer pedestrians crowding the footpaths. There are many more residents – and food delivery riders, too – who get around on bicycles instead of cars or motorcycles. Life seems a little more chill in the far east.
And after a couple of months of living with a forest of trees just outside my window, my optometrist even found that my nearsightedness had improved significantly. (I then had to spend a few hundred on new prescription glasses, but, oh well, you win some, you lose some.)
The downside is that the bugs are friendlier, too – and there seem to be giant, mutant species out here, like cicadas on steroids that drop by without an invitation, palm-sized moths with a “mi casa, su casa” philosophy, and a spider that keeps reappearing in our bathroom no matter how many times I’ve whacked it with a slipper. We’ve named it Eduardo and resigned ourselves to its recurring incarnations.
Okay, so not all nature is enchanting. But, bug-battling aside, I swear other humans would find me full of sweetness and light.
Sadly, my friends won’t benefit from the new, nicer, less-stressed me with better vision, as they’ve flatly refused to come visit me in the east. “So far away!” they protest.
And, ay, there’s the rub: It really does take forever to get from here to, well, anywhere. To save time and money, the trick is to schedule all the errands that need to be run in town into one day, like a hermit descending from a rural mountaintop once a month to visit the post office and barter a new harness for the mule.
As for the friends – ah, well, we’re social distancing, anyway.
This part of town might not be known for good food, but there are some delightful home-based businesses sprouting in the Pasir Ris area.
MJ Teoh, for instance, who used to work in the kitchens of Michelin-starred Nouri and Bacchanalia, makes delicious Mexican tamales at home from scratch – a big labour of love – in addition to a wicked chilli sauce made according to her mother’s recipe and named Ah Moy’s Homemade Chilli after her, too.
Then there’s Trishnu Kaur, who brews pots and pots of fragrant spiced tea under the name The Chai Baba. You can get her masala chai made with soy milk or oat milk, and even choose the sugar level and whether you’d like coconut sugar instead of regular.
Want an Instagrammable pastry? Puffs And Peaks in Tampines makes donuts stuffed with jammy, custardy fillings ranging from blackcurrant peanut butter to taro coconut, as well as brownies, cookies, breads and other baked treats.
I'm definitely not losing any weight in the east. But as life would have it, just as I’ve gotten used to being an Eastie, it’s time for me to move again. It's okay, because I’m looking forward to discovering my new neighbourhood. And to bidding goodbye to Eduardo.
Meanwhile, the great east-west debate will most certainly rage on, and never the twain shall meet. If you’re an Eastie, you’ll probably have thought of lots of other great things about your part of the east. And if you’re a Westie, you’ve probably already drafted the scathing comment you’re going to leave under this article. That’s all part of the charm of our Singapore.
If you live in Yishun, though, say hi to the UFOs.
https://cnalifestyle.channelnewsasia.com/trending/east-vs-west-singapore-eastie-westie-15300250
