Kwan Inn tasty laksa. The uncle at the next table somehow stirring his tea with the uncanny sound of a phone ring-tone, from memory based on a bird call. A few doors down at Tzuchi, the Taiwanese Buddhist teahouse, the old aunties attending in their white blouses and navy blue aprons, imbued with the kind of “sincerity” which was highlighted in the books in the window. Bringing the pot and cup on the black lacquered tray, the woman today had angled the landing on the crowded table-top in three or four separate motions, smiling the while without raising of eyes. Head bowed, cheekbones prominent, strands of grey through the dye on the crown. Chat with the head who usually worked on his computer at one of the tables brought mention of Tzuchi’s larger centre out at Yishun, recommended especially for contemplative types, sited as it was beside a pond with greenery. There was lots of natural wood in the interior and screened from the road no cars were visible. None of the photographs the head displayed on his phone showed any of the old aunties attending; (buffet arrangement possibly there). The romanised eunoia was the term Aristotle had used for the benevolence and goodwill of the woman of a household, which the philosopher asserted ultimately formed the basis of human ethics and civilisation. The aunties at the Sims Avenue Tzuchi provided the quality in spades. Johnny K., the local non-practising architect/graphic artist, who enjoyed Kwan Inn’s vegetarian fare, had once entered Tzuchi, he recalled, without being able to take a seat. The pretentiousness of the setting had been too much, the knockabout lad reported. No doubt Johnny’s eyes had fallen on the decor and furnishings and he had not hung around for the old aunties’ performance. Understandably, a Chinaman in his own element could easily take that feature for granted. Even in back corners of Singapore, the Aristotelian touchstone was losing meaning.
Paya Lebar, Singapore
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