It was an early Thursday afternoon. I was at the basement of Takashimaya. I wished that I was there shopping. I was actually there running an errand.
The frame of my glasses had broken the day before. I went to Paris Miki to enquire about getting it repaired. On the way there, I met an old colleague, Hon Peow.
I met Peow at Ogilvy. He was an over-worked Project Manager, whom, in my opinion, was undervalued by management. He’s a great guy and a hard-worker.
I stared at him for a while as he and his girlfriend walked by the sports department.
“Hey man, you look different, I almost couldn’t recognize you” I said with a smile as our eyes finally met.
He told me he no longer worked at Ogilvy.
“Thank God,” I said triumphantly, “you escaped!” I greeted his girlfriend and we spoke briefly before we parted ways. I was in a rush and didn’t want to intrude on the young couple.
I entered Paris Miki. The woman who attended to me was a young, fair-skinned and cute-looking Chinese girl with her hair in a pony-tail.
I remember her vividly because I suddenly realized that the female store attendants looked more…appealing. It had been about 3 years since I last visited a Paris Miki branch but I do not recall their uniform being so figure-hugging. The hem-line of the skirts also looked suspiciously high.
As the female attendants went about their work, I was actually grateful that my spectacles had been taken from me. If my vision had been clearer, I would have had difficulty averting my gaze from the young, hour-glassed shaped attendants in their short, tight, black skirts.
“We’ll have to check the price and get back to you,” she said sweetly as she handed me my glasses.
“Sure thing. Give me a call.” I replied as I wore my spectacles and left the store.
I went down one floor to the toy department. As I browsed the Transformers section, my phone rang. It was the young lady from Paris Miki.
“Wow. That was fast,” I replied as she gave me the quotation for my spectacles’ replacement parts. I told her I would consider it, and left for the basement, ready to return home.
My plans changed when I noticed the mooncake festival in the square. I entered, looking for the fried mooncakes from Eater’s Palace. It had been a tough week for my family. My father, mother and I were recovering from illness. I had recently recovered from an eye infection while my mother was still suffering from a sinus problem.
Now on the brink of recovery, I thought I’d buy them a treat since we’ve been homebound for the week, recovering.
Upon entering the square, I quickly found the store. It was easy to locate. The plum, middle-aged, Chinese chef that tended the store had become its trademark. He had a kind and genial quality about him. He was also very generous with his samples.
“Can I try one?” I asked a young Chinese promoter. His back was towards me as he received freshly cut samples from the chef.
He graciously handed me a slice. I had no real need to sample the shop’s fares. I had every intention of making a purchase. I wanted a sample because I was hungry. It was around 1.30pm and I had not eaten at all that day.
I purchased a box of two mooncakes as the chef smiled at me; a quite token of thanks. I smiled back gently and nodded slightly, acknowledging his appreciation. It was nice to see that in spite of the recession, the chef was still generous in giving samples.
I left the square without trying any other mooncakes. I knew that no other could satisfy me like the ones I had purchased from Eater’s Palace.
As I walked towards Wisma Atria, a ’new’ restaurant caught my eye. The Japanese restaurant “Tampopo” had opened in the basement.
When I was a teenager, I had a birthday tradition. Every year, on my birthday, I would eat at a Japanese restaurant called Nanto. This restaurant was located at the basement of Liang Court. Unfortunately, when Daimaru closed its doors, so did Nanto. Several other Japanese restaurants would take its place, including Tampopo.
I stood outside for a moment, wondering if I should go it. I had work to do. Could I really afford the time?
But I rationalized my need to eat and entered. I’m glad I did. It was a welcome reprieve from my hectic schedule. As I was led to my table, I flirted with the idea of practicing my Japanese with the waitress. The idea was quickly shot down when I heard her speak with a distinctively Singaporean accent.
As I sat down I ordered quickly. I had no real need for the menu. I had been to the Tampopo at Liang Court several times. I ordered my usual, the Shabu Shabu ramen. I slumped back in my seat. I was weary. But not from my morning class that lasted from 9am-12pm, I was simply tired.
As I sat down, the events of the last year flashed before me. This was the first time in an extremely busy year that I had the opportunity to look at my life.
As I waited for my food, I took out a book I had purchased from Kinokuniya. I had read excerpts of “The Men in White” from the Straits Times. It looked to be a fascinating book and I had been looking for the opportunity to purchase it.
In my opinion, any locally-written book about the PAP that manages to piss-off Lee Kuan Yew is a book worth reading.
As I read the Foreword and Preface, I suddenly realized that this was the first-time in years that I had the opportunity to read so leisurely. Most of my reading over the last 6 months had been done during the lecturers of an incompetent Mass Communications lecturer.
I wondered how I became so busy. Then it dawned upon me. I was a victim of my own success.
My teaching operations had grown considerable since I restarted it. The number of students I had were now in the double digits.
Strangely I had also been head-hunted several times during the last year. I find this to be an oddity because I made no effort to find employment, yet it was actively seeking me out. I was content teaching classical guitar. It’s work that I find completely enthralling and enjoyable. I have no immediate intention of doing otherwise.
School had also become taxing. As usual, I was the workhorse in any group assignment. But that wasn’t all that kept me busy. I was also bailing out classmates from tight spots. During my final print journalism tutorial, I had actually spent more time helping others than I spent on my own assignment. I spent about 20 minutes on my assignment. I spent the remainder of the 2 hours and 40 minutes assisting two classmates who needed my help.
As if this wasn’t enough, I was still preparing for a major Japanese exam I had to take at the end of the year.
I had also been recently commissioned to create a promotional website for a client. That was why I was in such a rush that day. I had copy to write, code to construct and a designer to brief. I also had a student to teach later in the day.
My busy schedule also prevented me from blogging as frequently as before.
I ate my ramen and order a lychee-tea. I had done well for myself over the last year. I found my way into Ogilvy, restarted a booming classical guitar teaching business, started school successfully, worked my way into a major, upcoming Japanese exam and had recently found online marketing communications work. The numerous head-hunting job offers I received also boosted my ego ever so slightly.
I deserved a break. I also deserved a chocolate chiffon cake, so I ordered one. Like the carefully constructed meal that laid before me, my plans were unfolding nicely.
Ideally, when I finish my studies, I want to continue teaching classical guitar for as long as possible. I still aspire to send one of my students to a major conservatory in the West. Currently, the size of my teaching operations is growing as anticipated.
But in the event that my business does not grow as anticipated, I have several fallbacks. I would have obtained my Bachelors in Mass Communication by then. Part-time commissioned works would also have caused my portfolio to grow considerably, further strengthening my employability.
Furthermore, I would have completed at least one major Japanese exam by then. Perhaps I will return to my grandfather’s homeland, in search of adventure.
I love teaching classical guitar. I hope that my students make it impossible for me to retire. There’s nothing more rewarding than working with someone and watching them grow under your tutelage. It’s the most rewarding work I have ever done. Watching dreams come to life and watching someone discover an entirely new way to see the world is a magical experience.
But if that doesn’t work out, hopefully I’ll still be a victim of my own success.
