You might have heard of the mythical gold hoard of Yamashita, named after General Tomoyuki Yamashita, the “Tiger of Malaya” who led the Japanese forces in the Southeast Asian campaign of World War II. Yamashita’s Treasure or Yamashita’s Gold, as it has come to be known, refers to the loot amassed by the Japanese during their campaign from banks, places of worship and prisoners – more notably, the hoard has never been found and is said to be hidden somewhere in Southeast Asia. The most common final resting place for this hoard is in the Philippines, but Peter Chan recounts a story from his grandfather of spotting Japanese gold in a vault right here in Singapore!

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Long before a public transport system was in place, rickshaws – runner-drawn two-wheeled carts – were one of the earliest forms of public transportation in Singapore. Introduced in Singapore on 16th February 1880, manning rickshaws was a main source of income for thousands of Chinese immigrants for about 50 years. Unlike the single-seater rickshaws in Hong Kong, the Singaporean version were all double-seaters, and this load was only feasible as our roads were generally less hilly and steep. However in 1904, first-class single-seaters were introduced and these allowed the rickshaw pullers to earn more, and have their loads lessened as the single-seater’s capacity was smaller.

Meanwhile, in 1902, The Singapore Electric Transway Limited was given the green light to lay and run tramways. A total of six lines were laid through the town and trams started running in 1905. The trams, however, faced many problems including funding and competition. This caused the trams to be very unpopular among the people as it was much more costly than many other modes of land transportation.

Moving on to the year 1914, trishaws (an improvement of rickshaws) started to appear on the streets of Singapore, and driving trishaws soon became a popular option among the Chinese immigrants. This soon led to the extinction of the rickshaws, as trishaws were easier to manage in Singapore, and lesser effort was needed by the driver to transport the passengers as compared to pulling and running with a rickshaw.

In 1925, the Singapore Traction Company (STC) was established, and was given a 30-year monopoly to run trolley buses and motor buses within the town. By 1929, there were 90 trolley buses which covered a total distance of 30.5km. Individual operators also offered services in rural areas with “mosquito buses” (nicknamed as such due to their ability to weave in and out of traffic). In 1927, electronic tramcars replaced these trolley buses (which phased out in 1962 due to faster motor buses being introduced).

However, despite all these improvements in transport throughout the years, it has been deemed that the state of public transport was far from satisfactory. It was filled with numerous difficulties, like poor management and labour unrest, which led to a chain of riots, which forced the government to intervene. Eventually, three Chinese bus companies merged and formed the Singapore Bus Service(SBS), and through many series of reorganising, we now have SMRT buses LTD, and SBS transit.

“If you don’t eat up those bits left on the plate, your future husband’s face will look just like that.” As a young child, I saw a glimpse of my own face past the mess on the reflective porcelain, and imagined this seemingly predictable future. After a while, I would obligingly finish up my food. Forward a decade and I know now that my mother was not a great fortune teller, nor a psychic, but a great mother. I get really irritated seeing people leave grains of rice scattered all over their plate, or just a few strands of noodle left swimming in cold soup. I mean, does it really take so much effort to down a few more mouthfuls? It is not so much the aesthetics, or the lack of it, but the value of being grateful for what we have.

These days, we are troubled during meal times, not by not having enough to eat, but by immense variety that is available. Chicken rice? Fishball noodles? No, too much of the local fare…maybe a Western ribeye steak? Japanese teppanyaki? Korean bibimbap? Few of us actually realise that these are luxuries in the eyes of many – including my parents, who lived on a diet of porridge and Marmite when they were my age. My parents would always launch into their soliloquy about how meat, even chicken, would only be seen during festivities such as Chinese New Year. Eggs were also uncommon enough for them to be used sparingly. The lack of variety in terms of ingredients led to much creativity however, as they tried to create their own variety with what they had.

Once, I saw my mother dip you tiao (fried dough fritters) in the laksa soup that my sister had left over during our breakfast together as a family. She caught the quizzical and skeptical look that I had shot across the table. “Try it,” she said, and I fell in love with the savory combination at once.

On another occasion, she had cooked a pot of green bean soup that my siblings and I love so much. Whilst we indulged in the mush of green beans, gula melaka and sago, she went to the fridge and dug out the small box of durians that we had bought the day before, and proceeded to expertly separate flesh from seed before adding it to her own bowl of soup.

Yes, I did eventually try that strange concoction though the taste was too strong for my liking. In any case, whenever I ask her of the origins of these weird yet ingenious recipes, she would say, “Everybody ate it this way!” These episodes would just serve as timely reminders that my parents had lived in a different day and age, and that even as they unknowingly pass down some old practices and memories, some would be lost forever when they pass on. Thus, once in a while when I have the chance, I would ask my parents about their childhood ambitions, their school days, their teenage concerns…at least, even if I did not share these memories, I would be able to keep them and understand my parents more holistically as two ordinary persons that fell in love, and not just the two main authorities in my life.