Two years ago, I chanced upon a shop house in Little India selling wanton mee. The mee was kiu¹, the fried wanton was served piping hot, and I have remembered the shop ever since. Except for its name and exact location. Doh!
So, as budding explorers, our first expedition was to find this wanton mee shop in Little India. It was not about the kiu mee or the crispy wanton. It was about the aged uncle selling it, the authentic fittings, furnishings in the shop house. It was about the irony of a Chinese cuisine being sold within an Indian enclave.
We began our Little India journey at Farrer Park MRT Station. You could find several Chinese temples within the 1 km radius of the station. But having ventured no further than a hundred yards, we found ourselves wandering into an Indian temple, named Sri Srinivasa Perumal.
Man resting within the temple which dates back to late 1800s. (below)
Despite its existence along a bustling road, there was a sense of tranquility when we entered the temple. No one stopped us from taking pictures nor questioned our presence. Everything seemed so calm.
Man resting within the temple which dates back to late 1800s. (below)
Despite its existence along a bustling road, there was a sense of tranquility when we entered the temple. No one stopped us from taking pictures nor questioned our presence. Everything seemed so calm.
After spending half hour or so in Sri Perumal Temple, we moved south-west along Serangoon Road. Everything sped up. Cars, people, birds, activities. We never knew there was a mall called Serangoon Plaza or a Tamil mosque named Masjid Angullia. It was a journey into the unknown.
Masjid Angullia with litter-free campaign poster forming its backdrop (below)
It was time to leave the busy main road and enter the smaller lanes of Little India. We skipped the infamous Desker Road since it should be devoid of dark happenings in the early afternoon sunshine. Instead, Rowell Road became the first of many streets we combed.
For the second time in a day, we experienced an unexpected moment of peace. Lined with shop houses, Rowell Road had a few eateries and several Chinese-named shops selling odd crafts and auto parts. We wondered about the lack of business traffic, their daily trade volumes and their continued survival.
For the second time in a day, we experienced an unexpected moment of peace. Lined with shop houses, Rowell Road had a few eateries and several Chinese-named shops selling odd crafts and auto parts. We wondered about the lack of business traffic, their daily trade volumes and their continued survival.
Smiling shopkeeper along Rowell Road, (left), An African lady and a Malay man chilling outside an internet cafe (right)
We continued our search, covering Hindoo Road, Veerasamy Road, Upper Dickson Road, etc. Still no wanton mee, only mee goreng. The afternoon crowd grew and we started seeing several Caucasian and Japanese tourists, but Singaporean Chinese were few and far between. It was unsurprising we haven't found the shop. No logical wanton mee seller would set up store here. It was a lost cause for the hawker. And us.
Then, the two of us stepped onto Kerbau Road and discovered an array of colours on a standalone building. One of the last surviving Chinese villas in Little India, the Tan Teng Niah Residence stood proudly in the blazing sun.
In its vicinity, the architecture of the buildings matched the villa in design and bright colours. It didn't feel like city Singapore. We'd pleasantly gotten lost in a Indian-Chinese hybrid town.
In its vicinity, the architecture of the buildings matched the villa in design and bright colours. It didn't feel like city Singapore. We'd pleasantly gotten lost in a Indian-Chinese hybrid town.
Adamant that the shop should be closer to where we began, we returned north-east. Walking through the alleys, we could see Indians enjoying themselves in the later afternoon sun. It was hard to find a non-smiling Indian.
Fountain feature outside the residence built for Tan Teng Niah's wife (left)
No one was glum-looking. Everyone appeared happy. Why were they smiling?
Moving on, we noticed karung guni² lady collecting old newspapers and unwanted items. As we stopped to take pictures of a karung guni lady in action, a middle-aged Chinese man came up to us.
"wah, your camera. can shoot people one ah?" clearly impressed by the size of Yakki's shafty weapon.
"yeah, can! very powerful gun.. er, uncle, do you know where can we get wanton mee around here?"
The Uncle knew, it was on Rowell Road he said. But the shop has been closed for about two years now. It moved two roads away, perhaps to Sam Leong Road, but even that has now been shut down. A Chinese food stall in Little India simply didn't make sense or cents.
Deciding to end our stubborn unassisted search, we googled "Rowell Road Wanton Mee" and found that there was a wanton mee shop located on 12 Rowell Road. Curious about its fate, we pressed on. The shop name Sin Hoe Hin (新和兴) remained, but the place has now been turned into a rental house.
It was disappointing the wanton mee shop had closed, but market forces inevitably pushed Sin Hoe Hin out of Little India. The trip wasn't in vain though. It wasn't about the wanton mee, remember?
We found the happiest looking people in Singapore. We discovered Little India, a past and present icon of Singapore's urban planning. A happy place we had never explored in 20 odd years of our lives.
And so, our discovery of Singapore continues..
kiu¹: firm but not hard, soft but not soggy; in italiano, al dente
karung guni²: gunny sack in Malay; rag and bone men
Photos Credit: {about} us photography
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