On Everton Road

Over the last two weeks, I've been working at a production house that's situated in one of the nicest neighborhoods I've seen in Singapore. And by nice, I don't mean affluent. There are no jaw-dropping paeans to modern architecture, no Porsches or Beemers parked in the driveways—no driveways, in fact. I've seen quite a few of those here (and it always amazes me how these types of houses aren't locked away behind village gates) and they didn't charm me as much as this neighborhood did.

Tucked away in a cluster of streets near Chinatown and the central business district of Tanjong Pagar, these old shophouses on Everton Road aren't rented out to businesses as many of their kin are. They are purely residential, as far as I can see; the production house is there only because the owners live in the attic.

The first time I came here to edit, I saw elderly residents gathered together, sitting on ancient wicker chairs on a doorstep, chuckling among themselves and trading some afternoon gossip. And seeing that was nice.

Fueled by my love for old places, I made a point of coming early for one edit session so I could walk around the narrow streets and take photos of the charming details. Of which there were many.

From old, earth-hued tiles, to walls awash in delicate pastels faded and chipped by time and neglect...

To surprising pops of colour...

An assortment of gates, grills and guardians...

And even the luckiest fire hydrant in all of Singapore! The Chinese would disagree with me, though, since 8 is their thing. With the little bag of java hanging from its arm, it could even be someone's favorite coffee corner.

"Everton Road, please," I told the friendly auntie who was driving my taxi the other day. (Yes, there seem to be an increasing number of female cabbies here!)

"Ah! Going to the shophouses there, is it?" she asked, smiling. "I like that place, you know. It's a souvenir. It reminds me of the old days. It is a memory of how Singapore used to be."