14 August, 2015

One of the most beautiful traits of the coffee houses (or eating houses) in Singapore is that anyone come in and feel at ease over a hot meal or drink.

There is no gender divide: women are just as welcome as men. There is little class consciousness: in fact, strangers across social strata often share a table (my photoessays here and here expose the diversity of people donning suits to slippers). And there is no ethnic barrier. On the contrary, almost every eating house has a stall selling Muslim and Indian food in the Chinese-dominated milieu.

These details evoke a sentiment that is anchoring and assuring: You Belong.

At lunch hour, eating houses are packed. Throngs of workers spill in from their offices to dive into a hot meal. Queues are long. Food is gulped down. People circle like hawks around tables, looking for a spare seat; they might join a table with strangers. It is a camaraderie born of gastronomic empathy.

As the clock tick-tocks closer to 2.00pm, the hustle of workers dissipate into their air-conditioned offices and stores, and the ambiance is swiftly altered. The scene softens. It is calmer. Quieter. Emptier.

Now, a new crowd takes over. We are in the middle of the afternoon: we see individuals who don’t have a job during the day… or perhaps at all. Many are older. Some are retired. Some work the night shift. We see students on their way home from school; business people on their way to work; people with nowhere else to go.

The eating house transforms into our public living room. We gather there, each alone, but together.

Some bring newspapers, others bring their phones; some come with friends, others with a partner or the family troop. We sip on kopi, fill our tummy, settle in for a cold bucket of beer under the swirling ceiling fans.

We read. Watch whatever’s playing on television – it is usually hoisted up on the wall. Watch other people. Kill time.

And we relax. And we don’t feel the pressure of time.

Because this is our living room. This is where we live.

Let’s walk through a selection of scenes from an eating house in the thick humidity of the afternoon.