Day 197: Floorless Logic

Another Wednesday, and another dutiful trip to the Nee Soon East Community Club in Yishun...

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What is the third floor? What if it's not called that? Is the third floor by any other name still just as mysterious? Does the third floor only exist, if at all, by the mutual consent of those doing the naming of les étages? Are all floors merely a construct of our neoliberal minds longing to escape from their patriarchal oppressors to a higher plane of existence...or just suffering from the oppressive heat in increasingly neurotic ways?

These were the philosophical brambles in which I caught myself while I ate another solemn dinner at the hawker centre outside Yishun MRT this evening. In East and Southeast Asian cultures, the number 4 is considered inauspicious. In some parts of China, you may find buildings with no fourth floor; the lift will take you from 3 to 5. But of course there is a fourth floor; it's just labelled as "5" or, more correctly, "6". So too for the number 13 in the West. To this day, there are hotels that lack a 13th floor, at least by name. 

In Singapore, we do not do things this way. We use "levels", and this is presumably to avoid confusion between the Limeys and Yanks. But when you are explicitly instructed to go to the third floor, this only perpetuates the confusion in a system where floors are not labelled thus! So the third floor might be level 3 or it might be level 4. In some places, level 1 is below ground, so maybe the third floor is level 4 or level 5! Perhaps you should not be surprised, then, if you arrive at a dark and silent room no matter which level or floor you go to!

I expect you're all wondering where this is going...if you've made it this far. This cheesy song will reveal all.

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By 

The Imperial Orange, 

13th April 2016

Day 190: Danse Macabre

Another week, another attempt at dancing...

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After having a disagreement with last Wednesday's lunch, I fell ill in the evening and missed the dance class, so I resolved to make it there today. I had a light lunch to make sure that it didn't come back to haunt me in the evening.

The lessons are, apparently, held at a place called Nee Soon East Community Club, which is in the north of the island. As far as anyone who lives and works in the south is concerned, it might as well be in Russia. The last time I went to the north of the island I was on my way to Malaysia to have my computer fixed. I am still not entirely sure what they do all the way up there.


Anyway, after an hour's journey, I arrived at Yishun MRT, the closest railway station to the venue. Indeed, there are several possible locations you might end up in, if you do not keep your wits about you. As well as Nee Soon East Community Club, there are North, South and Central flavours. It seems the good people of Nee Soon are not for mixing with rival compass points. Fortunately, I have the eyes of a deranged bird with passable vision; I spotted this little detail in the map, so I had that base covered and started in an eastwards direction upon exiting the MRT. It was only a few minutes' walk, and I confidently arrived at the club with ten minutes still to spare, ample time to find the right room. There was a basketball court, an indoor tennis court, another room where kids were practising martial arts, and two dance studios to choose from! I didn't know which one was the correct one, so I applied the principle of spring cleaning and went to the top floor to work my way down. I checked both dance studios and walked around every floor for some sign of the dancers or the teacher. I can only imagine that they must have been expecting me, and had turned all the lights off and hidden under the tables in the hope that I might think they weren't in! Well, it worked – they were nowhere to be found!

And then I started experiencing my tingly anxious and depressed tingles again. After giving up the ghost and beginning to head back to the MRT, I was overcome by the thought of another night sitting at home in silence, which is only really a problem if I have plans that are thwarted! I didn't feel the need to take my tablets with me as I seldom need them when I am doing an activity. It became a race against time to get home, but it wouldn't be the first time that's happened! This time, I only once had to take shelter in the MRT toilet to recompose myself, so I suppose that's an improvement. Having narrowly averted a panic attack, I made it home and have found solace in my only true salvation: tea. However, tonight I will have to burn through another of my sleeping tablets. That is good stuff! They knock me out stone-cold for eight hours until I can't remember what the problem is any more! More on that another day.

Someone up there really doesn't want me to dance.

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By,

The Imperial Orange,

06th April 2016