I shall try not to bitch.
And look at things in their proper perspective. We are a small little island. Bereft of natural resources and natural wonders. Hell, we don't even have much scenery to begin with. What little land the East India Company first stumbled upon in 1819 has been apportioned to either Water Catchment, Housing or economy-driving Industry.
So I suppose we have had to make do.
With increasing the quality of life on this Little Red Dot that is. Making it Clean and Green. Nevermind if its a little sterile. At least we're not a big, decrepit metropolis that is Jakarta and Manila. Or an architecturally mundane city like Bangkok. Even Kuala Lumpur, behind that gleaming facade of the Petronas Twin Towers, hides an urban labyrinth in much need of repair and refreshment.
How then, should one balance the need to conserve, and the consequent retention of national 'character', with the realistic lack of physical real-estate and an inclination to erase parts of our history in the spirit of Economic Progress? When faced with the prospect of turning a mere 700 square kilometres of infertile land into an economic pocket-dynamo on the world-stage, integration of resources becomes a trifle tricky.
It was with these thoughts in mind, that I approached the Island Republic's latest attraction of sorts, the Southern Ridges. NParks is justifiably proud of this 9km stretch of walkways and green, open spaces that meander through hills that were always there, but not perceived as an entity on its own in the consciousness of the inhabitants that live below.
However like all things on this fastidiously spotless island, our brief sojourn on the elevated platforms through secondary rain-forest and on the fancy, designer-chic bridges they call Henderson Waves and Alexandra, gave us a sense of morbid artificiality that was hard to suppress. And yet, it seemed all too familiar. The 'No Smoking' signages, the squawking groups of urban-bred children, this obsession with having to know just where you are on the map every 50 paces or so, the ubiquitous chirp of SMSes from bird-of-paradise colored handphones.
It seems that in our effort to create natural spaces through the green lungs of the city, we have merely transferred a good proportion of the populace onto the Man-made trails, not unlike a bad bout of Pneumonia. Therein lies the paradox of accessibility. More people enjoy Mother Nature for who She is while Her virtues of Ecology and Sanctuary take a beating in the process.
Kudos to NParks for trying though.
At least we didn't build hill-top condominiums and then urge people to buy them for the stunning views of the Port.
Labels: Places