Not a Deity

What I find to be quite fascinating is the assumption that I have mastered how to read maps. The Street Directory pocketbook comes in handy whenever and wherever I feel like exploring. Of course, that incident where I got lost at Normanton Park was an exception. Although sometimes I question my capability to interpret maps, especially after having navigated the streets of Metro Manila using some intricately illustrated map guide. And getting lost. Perhaps I just missed a few turns. Either that, or that it is not unusual for the inexplicable detours and changing of façades to occur the way they do in Harry Potter movies. Fortunately, nothing like that manifested in the city of fines.

The map pocketbook was my trusted ally. I was again exploring some unknown roads. The MRT voiceover’s eloquent pronunciation, uhtrm pahk, sounded more sophisticated than how I would have otherwise pronounced it. I have reached Outram Park interchange.

Usually, the roads are not as distant as they appear to be. I kept that in mind as I opted to walk instead of taking another ride. I was looking for a building that’s sandwiched between Chinatown and Outram Park stations. In a few minutes I was able to locate my first landmark, the Pearl's Centre. It was 10:00am and the stalls have just started to open. There were kiosks whose merchandise ran the gamut from jade ornaments and bottled ginseng roots immersed in water, to the jelly-esque body enhancers named Freebra and a myriad of delightful paos & dumplings. I was almost tempted to try one of those stuff -- no, not the dumplings.

But the heat was sweltering. Any stopover could alert my sweat sensors which I did not want to happen. I continued walking for about a few kilometers until I reached the junction. It was good to know that despite the heat, there was no visible sign of air pollution around. In fact, since I got here I did not feel the need for a hanky to cover my nose.

I crossed the road as soon as the green man lit up. In contrast to the bustling scene alongside Pearl's Centre, the opposite side was quite serene. While the inner roads were lined with shophouses, the overall mood was more restrained. Perhaps it was too early in the day. Indeed, with the quaint bars, restaurants and cafes in its every nook and cranny, nightlife must be all abuzz with boisterous laughter and sinister grins.

Walking further, it was impossible to miss the grand colorful Indian temple. This tall, imposing building tapers towards the top as dozens of sculptures adorn its exterior. Each sculpture was interesting on its own, some being a hybrid of human and an animal. It reminded me of the way my college professor described one sacred temple in India where thousands of kamasutra sculptures cavort brazenly. But that sudden imagery in my head was quickly thwarted after I trampled on a few slippers. Perhaps one of the deities detected my blasphemous thought. Hundreds of slippers were strewn outside the door, some even reaching the sidewalk. I could only imagine how the devotees inside the temple manage to survive the prevailing temperature in their layered silk saris.

I was still thinking about the interesting cross-cultural kamasutra location of the Indian temple within Chinatown when I realized that I have reached my destination. It did not look like a school at all. Yes, I kept my options open and entertained the idea of working as a lecturer. It was still fashion-related and I thought that I wouldn’t lose anything if I at least tried. I repeated that line of thought in my mind as I stood in front of the building. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls almost blinded me as it glistened under the sun. The main door led to a cozy, carpeted reception area with two plush sofas and a low center table. 

I politely interrupted the ladies from their casual chatter. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr. Siew. I’m here for an interview.”

One of the ladies handed me a form and asked me to fill it out while waiting for the interviewer. Ten minutes later, I was ushered into a narrow room that’s barely enough for me to spread both my arms across. Not that I was made to spread my arms, or legs for that matter. A guy named David asked me to show my portfolio to him while waiting for the Principal, Mr. Siew. After a short and casual interview, he toured me inside their school premises. It was a relatively small building with around 4 to 6 floors, with each floor having just 1 or 2 classrooms if I remember correctly. Each stairwell was adorned with wall art in pops of colors that would impress every child-at-heart.

We reached the topmost floor where David and I entered a vacant classroom. The Venetian blinds cast a stark shadow onto the long tables and the room temperature was suffocating. He turned on the a/c and told me that the Principal should be in any moment. Ten minutes passed and no Mr. Siew in sight. Fifteen minutes. Twenty-five minutes. I almost didn’t notice the time as I was being regaled by David with stories about the students participation in various activities. Finally, Mr. Siew arrived. He did look the part: tall, stern and bespectacled. During the interview he asked if I would be interested in being stationed in Vietnam. He said that they are currently building a new school there where the lecturers will be housed in a separate dormitory near the area. Mr. Siew even showed photos of the site and an artist’s rendition of the new school. He visually painted for me this imagery where the lecturers would drive in bicycles to and from the school, that a huge market is located strategically, and that a laptop will be provided.

Sounds like a Vietnam fairytale to me. But things just couldn’t happen so quick and easy. Besides, I just got here. Hopping over to another country is a blurry scenario. On the other hand, the idea of me playing Heidi b*tching around the students seems like a cool idea. But that’s just not me. What have I gotten myself into?! David escorted me outside as I was trying to recall whether I did confirm or not. Being a local, David volunteered to give me a tour of the nearby bars someday. Such a gracious host. Meanwhile, Marie and I would be transferring to a new house soon. So many changes, so little time. On my way back and passing by the Indian temple again, I wondered if things would be easier as an eight-armed Durga incarnate.  

                                                                 

Photo: Durga (www.iloveulove.com)