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It started at the circus arena in Guangzhou. Watching the stunts, dad mentioned those same acts were part of Singapore life in the 1970s, and a chain of sharing began.
Stories flowed of ancestors who made their way to Nanyang, of fishing villages and rubber plantations where great-grandparents lived simply off the land. Hard labour, humble living, yet none of the stress that weighs on us today. I was there to bridge the language gap between the generations, turning words into something all three could share. More than a holiday, it was memory, history and family woven into one unforgettable experience. -
Dad turns 72 this July. He has always been the heart of our kitchen, baking, boiling and stewing with quiet pride. From a generation where men rarely admitted to loving such things, he never hid it. Cooking, gardening, looking after grandchildren and great grandchildren brought him genuine joy. In honour of his birthday, I am sharing his personal recipe for chicken winter melon soup. Try it yourself, or simply let it remind you to appreciate the soft, vulnerable side of the people you love.
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She used to attend the parades with her daughters who were part of the School of the Arts, located at one end of Orchard Road…. She often tried to attend despite the crowd as she enjoyed the electrifying atmosphere with the crowd cheering the performers, who had clearly put in a lot of time and effort.
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As the floats rolled past, strangers became friends, exchanging opinions on which floats they liked. It was like a village affair.
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