Coney Island

I visited the Punggol Waterways and Coney Island over the weekend for my Saturday morning jog. Another solo outing to the Park as usual.

I drove to the Punggol promenade located at the end of the old Punggol Road. It has been many years since I last ventured to this north-eastern tip of the island. Especially since it was announced that our new university will be sited there, I have been wanting to visit. 

I started my jog from the Promenade towards the western end of Coney Island, now connected to the mainland via a short linkway, that is less than 100m long and entered via the west end. This would be the first time I had set foot on this cone shaped island which was recently opened to the public by our Nparks.

Coastal path along the Punggol waterfront

I ran through the main track that connected the western and eastern ends of the island, a 2.2 km route that was flanked both sides by plush forest and shrubs.  But sight-wise it was a relatively dull route. Which might explain the dearth of other joggers.  Most of the park visitors were on bicycles.

I made it to the eastern end and continued jogging through, finally stopping at Lorong Halus. I checked my location on google maps and realised that it would be quite a long walk back to the car.  The sun was blazing down, making me regret on starting my jog so late.

The Punggol water front with Coney Island on the opposite side of the narrow waterway would be one of the most beautiful part of our island, so I discovered.  Why I had not ventured here earlier with Jenny when she was still alive and well would be a mystery. Yet another regret to deposit in my bank of things-I-should-have-done-with-her-but-failed-to-do, I suppose.



One of the bridges over the Punggol waterway. Cyclists were supposed to dismount!

The other side of the pathway that lined the water front was mainly verdant forests. Lush and largely unspoiled greenery on one side and the blue of gentle waves on the other. Nature in near perfect harmony. But not for many years to come. I have seen the plans drawn out for our new university town and the design corridor that spans the entire locality on the left side of my walk back to the Promenade. Picturing all the greenery being displaced by glass and concrete as the park gives way to urbanisation, I felt sad. I wondered how the rest of the park visitors would feel also. Nature versus modernity? If we had a choice. The answer is obvious.

I finally made it back to the car just before noon, totally drained.  The full force of my age was bearing on my ankles and knees. It would make better sense to cover the park and island on bicycle. Live and learn, I guess as we all need to. But this is one beautiful corner of Singapore that Jenny had missed. As she grew older she became less tolerant for long spells under the sun and humidity. But I am pretty sure even she would be impressed by the serenity and beauty of our Punggol water front.

Much of the afternoon was spent recuperating. Evening was football night with live matches on cable TV till early morning. I also managed to compile score sheets of several favourite christmas songs to prepare for our carolling team at work.  Some colleagues are banding together for carolling to spread Christmas cheer in the days leading to Christmas and yours truly would provide the guitar accompaniment. So in between catching all the football action, I tested out the chords and compiled the song sheets.  It felt good to be productive even on couch potato Saturday evenings, even as the first two matches ended badly for the teams I was rooting for. But the final late night match, my favourite team in red did not disappoint. Playing as underdogs they upended their more illustrious opponents with a sweeping victory. A fitting end to a great day.

But again I remind myself that I should never allow my morale to be dictated by the fates and fortune of football, much as I count myself a faithful supporter.  Fanaticism should have its limits. One day the team wins and another they lose. It’s all part of the game.

Jenny would always fret about my emotional vulnerability. “So your team has lost again last night?” My sour looks on Sunday morning revealed it all.  “So silly to behave this way. It’s only a game”. Of course she was right and I should shake off the puerile feeling just because my favourite team had played like headless chickens.

It has been 220 days since Jenny left me. Nowadays, I have gotten used to spending nearly all my weekend on my own, with just a few brief moments to chat with my kids. It is rare to catch them all together unless I could orchestrate a get-together. 

Being alone has its advantages. I have limited capacity for making small talk.  It is scary to spend too much time with any particular individual that might lead to deepening relationships which I am not sure about. Being alone allows me more quiet time to spend with the Jenny who now resides in me. It is communion with her to make up for my loss of having her physically with me. To step back into time and relive our days together. It takes effort to flesh out details of our past life together as with time, memory gets hazy.

So I value the moments of solitude, whether I am holed up within the confines of my bedroom where every item around me speaks of my wife’s presence or gazing into the lush greenery of a cone-shaped island across the Punggol waterway, watching the multitude of cyclists breezing past and wondering if one of them could offer me a lift back to the Promenade to save me from a long walk back.