Another reminder here at the Mr. Teh Tarik tables Sunday
afternoon: these lasses cannot wink to save themselves. It is simply beyond
them and that's all there is to it. The men too possibly, come to think of it.
Just a little tiny oddity, hardly worth remarking upon perhaps. Communication
is rather different in Asia, understandably. And here in the global capital of
signage surely to God—at least where government programming is concerned—the
more subtle indicators and hints deserve attention.
Some months ago now the wife of Stretch here who used to be the chief t. t. maker provided the first example of the double-eyed wink. A cheeky, quick lass from Johor Bahru over the Causeway, like her husband, the thought had been that it was an ironic, taunting piece of malarkey she was engaging in. Coming by with someone's dinner on the tray, preoccupied searching for them among the sea of tables, she signals big-eyed, Blink - Blink in passing, nice smile accompanying. Most certainly the gal wasn't on any kind of make of any kind. Rather the contrary, the double flash seeming to indicate: — Yeah, what? Or: — Ha! to you buster.
A short-arse, no-nonsense, all-on-her-own-terms gal who walked tall. Swung her elbows, chin upraised. Nothing to look at, but such a real good sort. Anything you wanna play she's got an answer. The sly hint aimed at her of something to surprise us this year maybe from the recently married pair—her nice rounding couldn't be missed—adroitly smacked back down the ground past mid-off for four. Well, good-O to you, you busy-bee nosey-body — a slap to go on with. Moon-face up-tilted even further and elbows powering locomotion.
One evening she paused briefly in passing, perhaps having made the double blink on the approach, and suggested she might be taught some English when there was time.
Definitely not on the make, no way. But what did she mean precisely? Did she really want to learn? Had Ishmail and Mohammed told her of the passing to them of the newspaper at the end of the day? The scribbling wasn't a secret. Everyone for miles around had seen the licking of pencil nub and scratching away staring into the treetops.
The double-eyed wink was more than a blink of course. A kind of owl's calculated shuttering. Once, and then it might have been again sometimes, slow and deliberate. There is a vague memory from back in childhood of people from the old country being similarly inept, unable to bring off the TV and movie wink of an eye. Someone in the circle had remarked upon it back then and the curious thing had been heard and stored. Something that had passed between adults; not meant for children. These people from the old country came from places where winks were not the order of the day. They used other signs. One of the signs of severity from childhood years was the slide of the eyes with no more than the hint of chin movement accompanying for Get off with you now. Away and no more. Mother had a mean look of gravity, inherited from the patriarch her father. Her mother was a push-over, get anything past her; not the father she loved so deeply. Granddad Rade lorded it with dagger looks of utmost authority. All the poor suitors of mother’s that followed could never achieve a presence to compare, not even the handsomest man in the village, rich men down on the coast, armed gendarmes in their resplendent uniforms. A long time ago. In many different ways Singapore recalls one to the past.
The other Malay girl, a bit younger, out the back with Stretch's wife at the same stall, gives the same double wink. She's clearly unmarried, needs to tread carefully. Enjoys some by-play, but can't allow herself to get caught up in anything inappropriate. (Hasn't missed the various dining companions over the term.)
Sunday arvo the Indon gal was just being neighbourly two tables away. Not a youngster she. In order to get her friendly message across she repeated her slightly comical wink two or three times over the course. A little hinted nodding so as to be properly understood. Later when her friend rejoined her both in unison beaming. It's not yet clear whether Filipinas do the same. Likely under the influence of the Americans they can do the conventional like the rest of us. And it should be noted whilst on the matter, there has not been a Chinese wink either in these ten full months. Of course, the wink has long gone out of fashion back home too. It used to be very common. Almost certainly the Chinese have never had it in their repetoire.
Always good to receive. Thank you my dear girl. A Bintan lass, over for a holiday she said, with some help from the Jakartan "sister". The Indonesian visitors here often have no English whatever. This pair had only just struck up together that afternoon. The Jakarta gal has worked here fourteen years, all with the one employer. A nice cuppa shared.
One can't go past the Mr. Teh Tarik tables, the Malay quarter generally. The whole of Geylang really. These people welcome the newcomer as one of their own, especially if that newcomer meets them half-way. Interest, curiosity, patience and fit regard are rewarded handsomely with invitations to table where the most intimate personal stories will be divulged, all manner of things. The Malay cannot sit at table with a plate before him or her without immediately asking when you come up, Makan? Have you eaten? The Chinese in Geylang at least can sometimes reach back to the same etiquette. (Our expat poet and author Ouyang Yu revealed in a recent memoir the old standard greeting in the homeland before everything was up-turned: Ne chile ma? Have you eaten?) The tourist haunts highlighted in the guides are something different.
The thumb-middle finger snap for Pronto is not on either here. Not in existence. They have chop-chop of course, Get on with it! But that doesn't seem to hinge on gesture.
As previously remarked, amongst polite society—Singapore National Library patrons for example—sneezes are choked; nose-blowing avoided, certainly full trumpet. (Unfortunate snot-sucking there preferred.)
Something that we on our side don't have in the repetoire is the signal flaring of nostrils. This one is a beauty, a sight to behold. Better than fine dining, adventure white-water rafting, parachuting onto Saharan sands, the lot. Only received it once or twice here, but Golly-gee! Unforgettable. Indonesians almost certainly. A little wide-eye with it, but nothing to remark upon. Clamp of jaw, tight mouth, in-take of breath required. And the remainder a couple of pumps for snorting. One, two... Man oh man! Not exactly beautiful. More like, Take me where you will, do what you must. To put it plainly, a Come-on. Whadaya got? You in or not? Part challenge; part provocation. Very effective. A very pretty gal probably would never employ it. But then a very pretty girl mostly never has the spirit of some of these bold, saucy ones. Amazing to recall. Circumstances hardly matter. There she was, got off for the bus. Perhaps we'll meet again; or not. Shame. You better believe it.
How mightily was Baudelaire shaken on the roaring sidewalks of Paris by the encounter that never was, all in an irretrievable instant? And that was then.
One last well-known sign. Down South at home perhaps not so well-known because of our comparatively small number of Indian immigrants and tourists, at least until recent years. Case in question is the Indian head roll-loll-swivel-bobble and shake. Stands for a range of responses: Yeah, sure. Indeed. Agree entirely. Very well, no need say more. A kind of sub-Continental comme ci, comme ca. Usually from the listener while the companion is hammering away at something or other. Needs reassurance to keep his head of steam. No point jabbering without the lights on across the table. Affirmative, unanimity, you got me in complete accord. The wide toothy smile accompanying more often than not; certainly the look of approbation. A good deal of what strikes an outsider as childishness involved, almost mental incapacity, imbecility. Takes some getting used to. The Indian component here — by far the smallest part of the demographic; but at the same time quite something to behold concentrated in their own quarter — only just beginning to come under notice. (Incidentally, it's possible this lolling is solely male. Thus far the only observed cases and instances.)
Some months ago now the wife of Stretch here who used to be the chief t. t. maker provided the first example of the double-eyed wink. A cheeky, quick lass from Johor Bahru over the Causeway, like her husband, the thought had been that it was an ironic, taunting piece of malarkey she was engaging in. Coming by with someone's dinner on the tray, preoccupied searching for them among the sea of tables, she signals big-eyed, Blink - Blink in passing, nice smile accompanying. Most certainly the gal wasn't on any kind of make of any kind. Rather the contrary, the double flash seeming to indicate: — Yeah, what? Or: — Ha! to you buster.
A short-arse, no-nonsense, all-on-her-own-terms gal who walked tall. Swung her elbows, chin upraised. Nothing to look at, but such a real good sort. Anything you wanna play she's got an answer. The sly hint aimed at her of something to surprise us this year maybe from the recently married pair—her nice rounding couldn't be missed—adroitly smacked back down the ground past mid-off for four. Well, good-O to you, you busy-bee nosey-body — a slap to go on with. Moon-face up-tilted even further and elbows powering locomotion.
One evening she paused briefly in passing, perhaps having made the double blink on the approach, and suggested she might be taught some English when there was time.
Definitely not on the make, no way. But what did she mean precisely? Did she really want to learn? Had Ishmail and Mohammed told her of the passing to them of the newspaper at the end of the day? The scribbling wasn't a secret. Everyone for miles around had seen the licking of pencil nub and scratching away staring into the treetops.
The double-eyed wink was more than a blink of course. A kind of owl's calculated shuttering. Once, and then it might have been again sometimes, slow and deliberate. There is a vague memory from back in childhood of people from the old country being similarly inept, unable to bring off the TV and movie wink of an eye. Someone in the circle had remarked upon it back then and the curious thing had been heard and stored. Something that had passed between adults; not meant for children. These people from the old country came from places where winks were not the order of the day. They used other signs. One of the signs of severity from childhood years was the slide of the eyes with no more than the hint of chin movement accompanying for Get off with you now. Away and no more. Mother had a mean look of gravity, inherited from the patriarch her father. Her mother was a push-over, get anything past her; not the father she loved so deeply. Granddad Rade lorded it with dagger looks of utmost authority. All the poor suitors of mother’s that followed could never achieve a presence to compare, not even the handsomest man in the village, rich men down on the coast, armed gendarmes in their resplendent uniforms. A long time ago. In many different ways Singapore recalls one to the past.
The other Malay girl, a bit younger, out the back with Stretch's wife at the same stall, gives the same double wink. She's clearly unmarried, needs to tread carefully. Enjoys some by-play, but can't allow herself to get caught up in anything inappropriate. (Hasn't missed the various dining companions over the term.)
Sunday arvo the Indon gal was just being neighbourly two tables away. Not a youngster she. In order to get her friendly message across she repeated her slightly comical wink two or three times over the course. A little hinted nodding so as to be properly understood. Later when her friend rejoined her both in unison beaming. It's not yet clear whether Filipinas do the same. Likely under the influence of the Americans they can do the conventional like the rest of us. And it should be noted whilst on the matter, there has not been a Chinese wink either in these ten full months. Of course, the wink has long gone out of fashion back home too. It used to be very common. Almost certainly the Chinese have never had it in their repetoire.
Always good to receive. Thank you my dear girl. A Bintan lass, over for a holiday she said, with some help from the Jakartan "sister". The Indonesian visitors here often have no English whatever. This pair had only just struck up together that afternoon. The Jakarta gal has worked here fourteen years, all with the one employer. A nice cuppa shared.
One can't go past the Mr. Teh Tarik tables, the Malay quarter generally. The whole of Geylang really. These people welcome the newcomer as one of their own, especially if that newcomer meets them half-way. Interest, curiosity, patience and fit regard are rewarded handsomely with invitations to table where the most intimate personal stories will be divulged, all manner of things. The Malay cannot sit at table with a plate before him or her without immediately asking when you come up, Makan? Have you eaten? The Chinese in Geylang at least can sometimes reach back to the same etiquette. (Our expat poet and author Ouyang Yu revealed in a recent memoir the old standard greeting in the homeland before everything was up-turned: Ne chile ma? Have you eaten?) The tourist haunts highlighted in the guides are something different.
The thumb-middle finger snap for Pronto is not on either here. Not in existence. They have chop-chop of course, Get on with it! But that doesn't seem to hinge on gesture.
As previously remarked, amongst polite society—Singapore National Library patrons for example—sneezes are choked; nose-blowing avoided, certainly full trumpet. (Unfortunate snot-sucking there preferred.)
Something that we on our side don't have in the repetoire is the signal flaring of nostrils. This one is a beauty, a sight to behold. Better than fine dining, adventure white-water rafting, parachuting onto Saharan sands, the lot. Only received it once or twice here, but Golly-gee! Unforgettable. Indonesians almost certainly. A little wide-eye with it, but nothing to remark upon. Clamp of jaw, tight mouth, in-take of breath required. And the remainder a couple of pumps for snorting. One, two... Man oh man! Not exactly beautiful. More like, Take me where you will, do what you must. To put it plainly, a Come-on. Whadaya got? You in or not? Part challenge; part provocation. Very effective. A very pretty gal probably would never employ it. But then a very pretty girl mostly never has the spirit of some of these bold, saucy ones. Amazing to recall. Circumstances hardly matter. There she was, got off for the bus. Perhaps we'll meet again; or not. Shame. You better believe it.
How mightily was Baudelaire shaken on the roaring sidewalks of Paris by the encounter that never was, all in an irretrievable instant? And that was then.
One last well-known sign. Down South at home perhaps not so well-known because of our comparatively small number of Indian immigrants and tourists, at least until recent years. Case in question is the Indian head roll-loll-swivel-bobble and shake. Stands for a range of responses: Yeah, sure. Indeed. Agree entirely. Very well, no need say more. A kind of sub-Continental comme ci, comme ca. Usually from the listener while the companion is hammering away at something or other. Needs reassurance to keep his head of steam. No point jabbering without the lights on across the table. Affirmative, unanimity, you got me in complete accord. The wide toothy smile accompanying more often than not; certainly the look of approbation. A good deal of what strikes an outsider as childishness involved, almost mental incapacity, imbecility. Takes some getting used to. The Indian component here — by far the smallest part of the demographic; but at the same time quite something to behold concentrated in their own quarter — only just beginning to come under notice. (Incidentally, it's possible this lolling is solely male. Thus far the only observed cases and instances.)
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