JANUARY 18 — I met a friend for a drink on Amoy St. We went to one of those hip, sleekly-designed bars that dot the lane — tucked ourselves into a corner and ordered a bespoke cocktail each.
It wasn’t a particularly fancy drink and it arrived in a — and I’m using a euphemism — petite glass with a strand of green garnish.
Tasty, fruity and expensive. The drink cost $23 (RM61.70) before prevailing taxes. After one drink, I mulled over dinner — flipped the menu, glanced at the prices and quickly decided that if I were to splurge for meat on a stick, I am better off walking the 500 metres to Lau Pa Sat.
Does that make me sound cheap? If it does, I know most of my friends and family would protest — pointing out that I am in fact a struggling spendthrift.
A few afternoons earlier I had — on a whim — purchased a Batik 5 stone set for a jaw-dropping $11 (RM29.50). My mother was furious.
So, no I don’t think I am cheap in the admirable sense of the word — unlike my mother who cleverly manages the household budget, makes elaborate but thrifty meals and at the end of the month still has money left to spend on a weekend trip with friends to Hat Yai.
Sitting on Satay Street at dusk is spell-binding. The setting sun and the skyscrapers looming over the array of tables, chairs, tourists, salary-men and satay-sellers — you settle into a comfortable ease.
The menus are brought to you — on offer are the distinctly Singaporean hodgepodge of flavours and dishes. My friend and I settled on the classic combination of sambal kangkong and satay sticks. It cost us $44 (RM118).
In the middle of our first skewer, an elderly man ambled up to us and waved three packets of tissues in front of our noses: “Tissue. 3 for $1 (RM2.70).” With our mouths full and our wallets already put away, it seemed easier to shake our heads no.
In an area full of chewing mouths and spilled peanut sauce — his business seemed like a sound one. Except 10 seconds and one stick later — another man appeared by my elbow this time with a more enticing offer: Tissues and wet tissues. This bundle was $2 (RM5.40).
By the time, we had finished our meal — we had been offered those packets close to seven times. These individuals weaved through throngs of people that were effortlessly spending on over-priced hawker food and jugs of beers — because they wanted to make an extra $1 (RM2.70).
Those bags of tissue packets were bulky and for the older man, it was a visible burden. By the second time he circled back to us, we were already fishing out our dollar coins.
Last year, Singapore topped the Economist Intelligence Unit’s list of 131 cities globally to become the world’s most expensive city to live in.
But in the same news article that gave me this fact, a related story reveals that the wealth gap is the second-widest among advanced economies in Asia, next to Hong Kong.
We see it often enough — in the aunty collecting cans or the uncle with his cardboard collection squeaking by on a trolley.
According to the “Singaporeans against Poverty” campaign website, 105,000 families in Singapore are earning on average $1,500 (RM4,024) per month. This means that life is a daily struggle for some 387,000 Singapore citizens and permanent residents.
After paying utilities, schooling, housing rental or loan instalments and medicals, they are left with about $5 (RM13.40) a day for food and transport per family member.
For me, a middle-class and working young adult — evenings such as these with drinks, dinners are pleasant but it adds up. So, I try to watch my budget closely — count my cocktails and if plans end early enough, always head to the MRT station instead of spending on a taxi.
This particular evening, after dinner, with the rest of the night still stretched ahead of us — we set off for a long walk from Robinson Road to Orchard Road. The weather was cool, the skyline glittered and we meandered along the river and into the city.
I love my city. I just wish it wasn’t so expensive.
*This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
