One of the four submissions for my creative writing assignment. Enjoy!
Throughout my life so far, I have moved houses a total of six times. For some, that seems like a small number. For those who call Singapore their country, six is five times too many.
When they saw my glum face after being told that yet another house had been purchased, my parents told me, “A house is a temporary asset. Home is where the people are. It’s not the place.” Trusting my parents have never been difficult, but believing in that statement had always been hard. I felt easily attached to the spaces around me, even if the time spent with them may not exceed beyond even a year. Everywhere I have lived in had a special quality to the house and area.
One of such houses was Gardenvista. It stood right across what’s to me is the best hangout in the whole world. What most Singaporeans know today as a station on the recent Downtown Line, five years ago was a huge building that had an iconic two-storey McDonald’s. Fondly and personally known as Macs at KAP, the outlet was beyond amazing. There was so much space in there that, despite being within the vicinity of various secondary schools, two renowned Junior Colleges, and Ngee Ann Polytechnic, there will always be a seat for any patron. Yes, always. Even during the peak lunch periods, seats will be available. Complementing the large space was the beautiful, almost alluring, spiral staircase that led the first floor to the second. The spiral staircase was a hassle to use while carrying trays full of Fillet-O-Fishes and Big Macs. One can never tell whether another person would rush down, due to the circular nature of the stairs. This was a problem for newcomers of Macs at KAP, but for my friends and I who frequented the place for years, we knew exactly how to maneuver our way through the classic spiral staircase. What made the experience there even better was the quality service provided by the cleaners and staff. Never did the toilets reek of insanitation and irresponsibility. Admittedly, it was even a pleasure to take breaks there. The delightful smell of apple soap would greet me as I open the doors, and I would always return to my seat with my friends feeling cheered up.
The McDonald’s outlet held some of my freshest memories. My friends and I did everything there. At the far left corner on the second floor, a friend got rejected by one of the girls he really liked, while some of us waited at the first floor, writhing in anticipation. At another corner, a whole hoard of us sat in a curved table as we resolved a fight that had been going on for weeks. In the centre of the second floor where the pretty pillars were, I sat across a friend who shared her iPod earphones with me as we battled against the Ten-Year Series for our ‘O’ Levels. On the first floor right next to the glass panels, in an area where seats are hardly occupied, a friend cried over an ugly breakup as I struggled to find more napkins for her to blow her nose on. Even the visit to the counters was a delight; the friendly makciks and aunties who already know me by name and my school uniform would greet me warmly even it was midnight and I was craving for fries and curry sauce. Every corner had a memory attached to it, every wall was a witness to the wide variety of my emotions, and every tile on the floor had an imprint of me on it.
When The Straits Times announced that KAP was sold to Oxley Holdings for $150 million, I was shocked. Oddly, the sadness did not come immediately. Being only a teenager, I did not understand that that was how Singapore worked. I somewhat knew that change was a niche of this country, since I was often told of the narrative that Singapore “grow from an old fishing village to a thriving business hub”, but I only truly recognised what change in Singapore really meant when something I grew to love was taken away from me. I knew I was often easily attached to the spaces around me, but Macs at KAP was different. For the first time, I felt as though the attachment was mutual. The space and I shared a bond. Where the space had its imprints on me, I had mine on the space. A place brimming with memories and future plans. A hangout where so much happened and everything else was just waiting to take place. A fast food joint where everyone who meant something to me had spent time with me, chomping on fries, the Double Cheeseburgers, and the McSpicy’s that my sensitive tongue could hardly stand.
By the end of 2013, Macs at KAP was already closed. No one went there because no one could. It was cordoned off and out of bounds. It was no more.
Now, in the place of where the huge McDonald’s used to be, there is a newly-built condominium waiting for its occupants, waiting for a new generation of people and families to call it a home – or, if they are anything like my parents, a “temporary asset”. When I go home to Gardenvista, I alight at the bus stop with a path home that will make me come across the site of Macs at KAP (now there is condominium called KAP Residences). Looking back, I am thankful I randomly asked a friend to capture a Polaroid of me standing in front of one of my favourite places. The image carries with it the permanence of Macs at KAP, and that for me is enough to make all the beautiful memories attached to it remain.
***
Throughout my life so far, I have moved houses a total of six times. For some, that seems like a small number. For those who call Singapore their country, six is five times too many.
When they saw my glum face after being told that yet another house had been purchased, my parents told me, “A house is a temporary asset. Home is where the people are. It’s not the place.” Trusting my parents have never been difficult, but believing in that statement had always been hard. I felt easily attached to the spaces around me, even if the time spent with them may not exceed beyond even a year. Everywhere I have lived in had a special quality to the house and area.
One of such houses was Gardenvista. It stood right across what’s to me is the best hangout in the whole world. What most Singaporeans know today as a station on the recent Downtown Line, five years ago was a huge building that had an iconic two-storey McDonald’s. Fondly and personally known as Macs at KAP, the outlet was beyond amazing. There was so much space in there that, despite being within the vicinity of various secondary schools, two renowned Junior Colleges, and Ngee Ann Polytechnic, there will always be a seat for any patron. Yes, always. Even during the peak lunch periods, seats will be available. Complementing the large space was the beautiful, almost alluring, spiral staircase that led the first floor to the second. The spiral staircase was a hassle to use while carrying trays full of Fillet-O-Fishes and Big Macs. One can never tell whether another person would rush down, due to the circular nature of the stairs. This was a problem for newcomers of Macs at KAP, but for my friends and I who frequented the place for years, we knew exactly how to maneuver our way through the classic spiral staircase. What made the experience there even better was the quality service provided by the cleaners and staff. Never did the toilets reek of insanitation and irresponsibility. Admittedly, it was even a pleasure to take breaks there. The delightful smell of apple soap would greet me as I open the doors, and I would always return to my seat with my friends feeling cheered up.
The McDonald’s outlet held some of my freshest memories. My friends and I did everything there. At the far left corner on the second floor, a friend got rejected by one of the girls he really liked, while some of us waited at the first floor, writhing in anticipation. At another corner, a whole hoard of us sat in a curved table as we resolved a fight that had been going on for weeks. In the centre of the second floor where the pretty pillars were, I sat across a friend who shared her iPod earphones with me as we battled against the Ten-Year Series for our ‘O’ Levels. On the first floor right next to the glass panels, in an area where seats are hardly occupied, a friend cried over an ugly breakup as I struggled to find more napkins for her to blow her nose on. Even the visit to the counters was a delight; the friendly makciks and aunties who already know me by name and my school uniform would greet me warmly even it was midnight and I was craving for fries and curry sauce. Every corner had a memory attached to it, every wall was a witness to the wide variety of my emotions, and every tile on the floor had an imprint of me on it.
When The Straits Times announced that KAP was sold to Oxley Holdings for $150 million, I was shocked. Oddly, the sadness did not come immediately. Being only a teenager, I did not understand that that was how Singapore worked. I somewhat knew that change was a niche of this country, since I was often told of the narrative that Singapore “grow from an old fishing village to a thriving business hub”, but I only truly recognised what change in Singapore really meant when something I grew to love was taken away from me. I knew I was often easily attached to the spaces around me, but Macs at KAP was different. For the first time, I felt as though the attachment was mutual. The space and I shared a bond. Where the space had its imprints on me, I had mine on the space. A place brimming with memories and future plans. A hangout where so much happened and everything else was just waiting to take place. A fast food joint where everyone who meant something to me had spent time with me, chomping on fries, the Double Cheeseburgers, and the McSpicy’s that my sensitive tongue could hardly stand.
By the end of 2013, Macs at KAP was already closed. No one went there because no one could. It was cordoned off and out of bounds. It was no more.
Now, in the place of where the huge McDonald’s used to be, there is a newly-built condominium waiting for its occupants, waiting for a new generation of people and families to call it a home – or, if they are anything like my parents, a “temporary asset”. When I go home to Gardenvista, I alight at the bus stop with a path home that will make me come across the site of Macs at KAP (now there is condominium called KAP Residences). Looking back, I am thankful I randomly asked a friend to capture a Polaroid of me standing in front of one of my favourite places. The image carries with it the permanence of Macs at KAP, and that for me is enough to make all the beautiful memories attached to it remain.
