Exploring Bukit Batok

Weather forecast: The intense heat of the sun adds sweat to your palms and warmth to your heart.

That startling encounter with the bamboo pole clothes line has piqued my curiosity to explore further. We decided to go out and see what this town has to offer. I immediately noticed the serene ambience of Bukit Batok -- a far cry from the bustling city that Singapore has been known to be. It felt like we were trailing our province’s quiet roads. After all, we were staying in the far west.

As we walked the pothole-free paved roads, I could feel the intense heat of the sun permeating through my sunblock-drenched skin. Wearing aviator sunglasses seemed more like a necessity to avoid the glares than a stylish accessory to complete the ensemble. Thankfully, there were plenty of trees all around that made things more bearable.

Marie and Ruthie walked faster to avoid being toasted without consent. After crossing over a narrow road, I could hear a faint sound of children laughing from a distance. A sound that echoed in this quiet neighborhood. And although it was against my dermatologist’s advice I squinted, intently, as if I had the X-Ray scanning ability like those at the US airports. I walked a bit closer to where the sound was coming from. Carefully peeking through the verdant foliage, I saw primary school children in their uniforms running, playing and giggling. Some children looked cute in their yellowish skin, pigtails and knee-high socks. While others were decidedly charming with their dark skin, thick-framed eyeglasses spectacles and wide grin. Children were exposed to the multi-cultural society early on. >>

 I quickly walked away to rejoin my friends. We were surrounded by tall and wide housing blocks which were fondly called HDBs (Housing Development Board). And so we walked and talked. We have considered the sidewalk as our dear tour guide and allowed it to show us around. I was amazed by the odd juxtaposition of some shops below one HDB. There was an old folk’s center beside a spa/salon, a mini-grocery store beside a maid agency office, a cellphone store beside a TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) clinic, among others. And then there was a 7-11 store with a huge top door freezer outside with the famous Selecta logo, only that over here it’s called Walls.

Walking further I remembered seeing about 4 to 5 hair salons situated next to each other that looked like it would never run out of aunties to perm. It must be a healthy competition. One could smell the strong scent of Pagoda cold wave lotion from afar. A number of white “Good Morning” and a handful of black (“Good Evening” perhaps?) towels were proudly hanged just outside each salon. It was as if the more towels displayed, the more popular a salon is. Indeed, salon business was thriving.

Just a few stalls past the salons, there was a spacious hawker center. The intense smell of Pagoda was only slightly overpowered by the rich curry sauce from one stall. Every hawker center in Singapore is like food paradise with lots of dishes to choose from. Variety is key. Some have more stalls than the others but they almost always have the “core stalls” which cater to the cultural diversity that this city-state is known for.

My friends and I decided to split and order from the stall that each of us preferred. It must be our wandering eyes or our half-determined footsteps, but I could tell that the uncles and aunties behind the stalls knew for a fact that we were tourists. The people there seemed genuinely cheerful and nice. Everytime I faced a stall an uncle would open his greeting with a loud “Hello!” that sounded like ha-loh followed by a Mandarin phrase and a toothless smile. As a meat lover, my tastebuds were instantly attracted to this “western food” stall that sold fried, breaded chickenjoy with fries and bread. But at that point I realized that I was not yet comfortable to part with my S$6.00. And so I checked the other stall with something pork-like that were steamed and to be served with some veggies. After reading the sign board though, I thought twice and jumped to the next stall. I don’t think that “Pig’s Organs” and my guts go well together.

The next stall offered Ban Mian noodles in hot soup with steamed Kai Lan veggies and lightly toasted Ikan Bilis (dilis). It looked yummy on the pictures but the hot weather and hot soup would only make me faint, I thought. I skipped the next two stalls that sold Indian Curry and Inonesian BBQ. At that point Marie and Ruthie have already ordered their food and were ready to fill in their tummy. I have reached the final two stalls. One was called Economic Mixed Vegetables which sold at least 15 types of dishes ranging from meat to fish to veggies and eggs. And another stall which sold their ubiquitous Chicken Rice. I ordered the latter.

“Uncle, can I have 1 order of Chicken Rice please?”

The uncle replied with a strange Mandarin-sounding English phrase, “Three dollars… having here or takeaway?”

It took me a few seconds to understand through his strong accent and unclear enunciation. Which made me reply with slight hesitation, “Uhm, having here…”

More accustomed to the phrase “dine-in or takeout” this one sounded funny. Nevertheless I was excited to taste the Chicken Rice. The plating was simple: steamed & sliced chicken breast over a cup of rice cooked in chicken broth, then garnished with sliced cucumber. For the sauce, I took a little of the ginger sauce, oyster sauce and chilli sauce. As for the taste, it was delicious yet nothing too fancy. But Singaporeans do love their Chicken Rice.

Being Pinoys, we do love to chat while eating. We figured this was the perfect time to plan our itinerary. We were not yet familiar with the other tourist spots aside from Sentosa, Orchard Road and Merlion Park, so we decided to go to these first. So we munched, chattered, gulped and chattered some more. Coyly glancing away in between topics in search of any hottie proved futile. A few burps later, a lady carrying a tray in a white-and-blue uniform with a Tiger beer logo, a bulging belt bag and a pair of funky rubber shoes approached us and, again, uttered an unfamiliar Mandarin-sounding English phrase. Marie, who once worked in China, was already familiar with this. “Three Iced Lemon Tea,” Marie exclaimed. I then realized that the lady was asking us if we were interested in ordering some drinks. The lady, with her dyed chestnut brown hair, hoop earrings, neon red lipstick and iconic Cindy Crawford-ish mole placement, sure did look fierce in this midday sun. Not in an haute couture way though. She later returned with our drinks for which we paid $1.30 a glass.

Our next stop was determined by Ruthie’s enthusiastic voice, “Let’s now check out the Merlion!”