Singapore - journey into memory

*Jewel Changi; sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

I.

now that i’m a little older, i feel a bit more removed from my past. but with the added veneer of nostalgia, my memories have received new meaning.

memory, in all of its dimensions - taste, smell, sound, sight - slowly turns into a pastel-like impression as it follows its inevitable course of decay: mellow, vaguely contoured, ever-shifting.

memory can also be overwritten with time. as i experience more and more, i forget. several things, however, have been lodged in my consciousness this entire time, forming the coordinates of my remembered childhood: those things include malls, gardens, and greenhouses.

II.

i had already visited Singapore in my late teens, albeit briefly. not too impressed at the time, i moved on. in truth, it isn’t easy to build any sort of spatial awareness when walking around with a group of tourists, as i did at the time. to map out a place as dense as Singapore would have been a bit of a tall order.

several years on, i learned a little more about the city-state and knew what to look for. but my first experience of Singapore had created a sort of a blank canvas, the ideal medium to paste my own memories and expectations onto.

i traveled to the Strait expecting crowds, hyper-technologization, spectacular gardens, and the sort of malls that truly only live in one’s imagination.

i got all of this and more.

III.

i am not a cultural theorist. neither am i particularly learned when it comes to politics. on a personal level, as i type this out in late ‘24, i am becoming more and more aware of a shift in what i had understood as the status quo. on this side of the cultural barricades (because yes! it appears i, just like any other member of society, am on a particular side of culture), things appear to be going poorly: an unpopular election in the world’s (on some metrics) most powerful economy, on a background of radicalization across our own continent; an apparent failure to achieve our climate goals, in spite of a ridiculous expense of resources, both on an individual level and more broadly across societies; the apparent weakening of key actors on the international stage, some of which we, as eastern Europeans, used to look up to, but have now begun casting our ire towards; a declining standard of living… and this list could easily eat up a few hundred words.

in essence, it is not looking too good. even for those more adaptable (or simply uncaring), i would wager succumbing to a bit of nostalgia becomes appealing. basically, while navigating the tube, shopping for groceries or driving down a familiar street, one should be forgiven for reflecting on the past, even if briefly.

vaporwave came into my life at a time when things were looking bleak, but in a different way. it wasn’t so much about the general state of affairs as it was about my own interactions with society. i was having a hard time keeping afloat at the start of my professional life. i eventually understood that it wasn’t necessarily my relative incompetence in my chosen field of work. it all boiled down to competition in the market. being forced to adapt to this sort of pace, shape a persona that would be as attractive as possible to potential employers, and above everything else, partake in the entire dance that a ruthless, profit-driven market created, i resonated deeply with the meaning deriving from vaporwave.

*accelerated capitalism. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

so what is vaporwave? it’s a genre of music, born and (arguably) deceased on the internet, with a knack for remixing popular western music from the eras between the ‘80s and the ‘00s. it has a prominent visual aesthetic attached to it, that borrows heavily from the same cultural period, primarily from the following (non-exhaustive) list of fields: video gaming, televised advertising, glossy television programming, corporate life, consumerism and advertising, Frutiger Aero, and the list goes on. what’s it sound like? - it is a diverse catalog of musical products, but i’d wager most people associate it with MACINTOSH PLUS - リサフランク420 / 現代のコンピュ. yes, a sugary Diana Ross track, slowed down to a crawl, making it sound particularly melancholic. what’s vaporwave trying to say? - this is a doozy, but it’s mostly an outward critique of modern alienation, rampant consumerism, as well as other more significant things i will attempt to discuss later.

essentially, i am yet to find a definition i could simply paste here, but for a better understanding of what this really is, i’d encourage you to read on.

*vaporwave: often an unusual wedding of artificial and natural elements. taken at Singapore Botanical Gardens. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

the consumer environment i grew up in was rather austere. not due to unavailability of consumer goods. the people in my immediate social circle simply had better things to do with their money. in effect, i wasn’t all too exposed to the elements which constitute some of the visual repertoire of vaporwave. later in life, when i became aware i had missed the boat on many of those things (mom never bought me a ps2), it added a further layer of meaning to what i was experiencing through vaporwave: not only did i yearn for a time in the past, but i also thought my past could have been a little different. in the context of nostalgia, i doubt it even matters: nostalgia is probably the desire for a time that never even existed, regardless of objective happenings.

Tanner G., in his apt volume on the phenomenon, dives into a similar argument when analyzing the cultural bedrock of vaporwave:

In the West, the time for which we pine is one before the twenty-first century, which arrived violently on September 11, 2001, and before the rise of the Internet. [...] All of this we do because the world we have found ourselves in runs on the motor of chaotic, neurotic capital that wipes away any meaning other than profit.

naturally, as hinted at above, this is likely a direct consequence of broad dissatisfaction with the present or rather, how the present turned out as opposed to what it could have been. to partly explain this phenomenon, Tanner G., introduces the notion of “hauntology”:

Whereas postmodernism toys with history via an increased skepticism in truly “knowing” the past, hauntology posits that the past notions of the future have in some way failed, causing a disruption of time as an orderly sequence of past, present, and future.

in essence, we could be referring to a specific type of nostalgia, one based on the conviction that the future (experienced by ourselves in the present) could have been far better, in line with a variety of optimistic assumptions made perhaps in the second half of the 20th century. these assumptions about the brightness of the future would have gone hand in hand with the technological optimism arising at the end of the 90s and early 2000s, only to be abruptly curtailed by the watershed moment that was 9/11. as such, the unrealized optimism of the past is now haunting us, having us watch as technological innovation gets twisted into the very tools of our oppression.

right, i agree, that was a little dramatic. but what’s this got to do with my trip to Singapore? - well, i thought i’d see some of what the present could have been for us. i am sure the every day realities of average Singaporeans have very little to do with the fantasies of a tourist, but i suppose this does not invalidate my own experience or whatever i had set out to discover by flying across the globe.

that being said, i also wished to experience firsthand the visual elements which are typically associated with vaporwave and boy, did the trip deliver.

IV.

in tune with the ethereal theme of the trip, i put together a simple and straightforward itinerary, consisting of nothing but gardens, plazas, and malls.

at a point in my Island Peak trek, i thought to myself a big dslr had proven mostly pointless at the very apex of my journey. what was i to do? - scale down and use a smaller mirrorless camera, along with a film compact.
i liked film. film felt genuine, felt honest and tangible. i was no longer concerned with technical perfection and instead focused on the moment… which i would miss anyway, given the molasses slow speed of my compact. nonetheless, the results still felt much more “real.” it wasn’t just that: i wanted to make use of a look i felt belonged to the time i was nostalgic for.

let’s begin by discussing accommodation: the Lyf hotel, within Funan mall. it should come as no surprise that living in the Lyf Funan hotel marked a particularly strong start for the itinerary - as you walk into the futuristic-looking, dark-coloured building, you are greeted with a familiar soundscape: distant chatter, several sources of unobtrusive muzak, along with a flavourful mixture of other shop sounds echoing in the distance. what i found most interesting were the several bicycle runways traversing the building, a direct extension of those serving the streets outside. on a theoretical level, you could be going about your day, cruising along the bicycle lanes of the city (which, naturally, cover most significant areas), shopping at your choice of stores, only to cycle into Funan and meet your friends in one of the mall’s many hangout spots. once you’re done enjoying your boba tea, exercising at the indoor climbing wall, or having dinner downstairs, you could simply mount up and head home.

Funan from above. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.

which brings me to my next point: from what i could gather, Funan was hardly a place to do any real shopping. with several notable exceptions (such as a rather impressive stationery or a visibly popular photographers’ store), Funan came across as a place for socialising. hidden among the building’s many nooks and crannies, lounging in the open spaces, or getting some sun on the rooftop gardens, mostly young citizens flocked together to chat, study, or grab a bite to eat. cloaked in leaves, or at times in artificial light and almost permanently in muzak, they took advantage of the privacy or, conversely, the visibility Funan afforded them.

rooftop gardens on Funan. kodak gold 200.

Lyf Funan appeared to be a little more than just a hotel. not only did it have a kitchen (curiously enough, perched atop a yet another alcove, above the common areas, gym, and laundrette), but it also featured all of the facilities of a co-working space, not unlike WeWork. i have no trouble admitting i was taken aback by the dystopianism of the concept - having all of your needs and obligations brought together within the confines of a single, monolithic building -, but once i’d moved on from that, i found the entire thing quite charming.

from a practical standpoint, i could easily see myself living full time inside a mall. a standard day during my time in Funan would have looked as follows: get up early in the morning, load up on caffeine and breakfast, go about your touristic activities, get back, do some climbing, grab dinner, then retire to your hotel room upstairs. neat!

okay, so what is this bit really about? - the mall, as it had developed in the US, was meant to be much more than just a place to shop. just like Funan, the mall meant socialising, it meant entertainment, it meant having all of your needs covered. with its decline in the US, i’d go as far as to say it has become an echo of the past. in the romanian space, i don’t feel things have changed all that much: the mall is still a multi-functional space, designed to account for most, if not all of your desires (frivolous or not). however, what isn’t coming back is the wonder i felt when i first walked into Bucharest’s very first mall. this could have been at the age of maybe nine or ten, when the marble surfaces and the interior fountains, compounded with the magnificent glass ceiling and seemingly endless escalators, left me absolutely speechless. hanging out with your high school friends around the food court isn’t coming back either. going on dates at the cinema, followed by a stint of gaming at the arcade, is long gone too.

Funan was the materialisation of all of my nostalgia. all of its functions and aesthetics were nothing short of superlative. my “childhood malls” looked nothing like it in reality. however, in my imagination and (continuously ruminating) memory, they did.

subjectively, Gardens by the Bay, the next significant item on my itinerary, could easily be dubbed the eighth wonder of the world. its scale makes it noteworthy from the get go, but the more i think about it, the more impressive it becomes.

consider this: within and around three monumental structures, built out of concrete, glass, and steel, a huge number of species have been brought together, to coexist stably and flourish. these are mostly plants, but i like to believe that other biotic elements, such as bacteria or insects, had to be adapted to a life under the glass domes. moreover, several different ecosystems appeared to live side by side, each with distinct temperature and humidity areas. oh, and despite me only covering the Cloud Forest, there is in fact a second massive greenhouse, featuring a different set of ecosystems.

*passageway in the Cloud Forest. harman phoenix 200.*

the Cloud Forest is not the first site i visited in the Garden by the Bay complex. nonetheless, it made such a strong impression on me i hardly managed to document the experience.

when first entering the facility, depending on the season, visitors are met with a sudden change in temperature. for someone as averse to the heat outside as i am, this was quite a relief. what makes this possible is a gargantuan waterfall spraying the area around the entrance, but i would also assume ridiculously powerful artificial climatisation is at play.

*behind the waterfall. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

as i began walking deeper into the facility, i thought it impossible to top such a grand first impression. i was wrong - the Cloud Forest “trail” wove in and around a central “mound”. the latter is hollowed out, serving as a space for various exhibitions, but the upper levels also function as a cathedral-like artificial cave. towards the top, the pathway bursts out into the vast open space of the greenhouse, providing an impressive vista over the green-covered walls underneath.

*spiral passageways, a bit of forced perspective. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

follow the trail and you’ll keep walking in and out of the mound. it is this ebb and flow of tension that kept me engaged all the way to the top. as i traversed the many levels of the structure, i fell deeper and deeper into a mellow, meditative state. poetically, my impromptu meditation session reached its apex up top, where the never-ending collection of species is accompanied by an artificial, yet convincing pond.

it is here that the volume of the greenhouse truly came into view. its echoey quietness reached its zenith too, with a multitude of voices from down below melding together into a soothing hum. this had to be the clearest glimpse into what our future could be, in the event that our species fails to keep climate change at bay: a scenario in which ecological conservation is confined to gigantic, tightly climatised glass domes.

*glass lily pond. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

visually, the Cloud Dome delivered in several key areas. the lush climbing plants, the dew-laden blossoms, the fat palm fronds - all reminiscent of luxurious vacations or exclusivist rooftop gardens, the elements which could have been a few the building blocks of a happy, fulfilling life. in conjunction with their frequent use as part of advertising or design within the cyber space, they made the Cloud Dome as vaporwave as it could be. no wonder i’d succumbed to some sort of a waking dream - i was, in fact, experiencing something akin to a manifestation of my most profound desires.

*“i could die here.” sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

it doesn’t take an expert to put together a reasonable characterisation of Singapore’s climate: it’s hot, humid, often downright wet. an early January morning was no exception - though i’d started my itinerary before 10am, the day’s heat quickly reached its full potential. i was barely hanging on around the time i finally saw the orderly canopies of the Supertrees, having crossed the large outdoor section of the Gardens by the Bay… not without running in circles a good several times.

right before the opening which houses the Supertree “Grove”, i made the acquaintance of a great deal of tropical species. their large, moisture-laden leaves offer respite from the unrelenting sun. make no mistake though - that hardly does anything about the hot moisture floating about in the air.

*in the Supertree Grove. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

the so-called Supertrees present a unique opportunity to explore their canopies, thus getting an overview of all things interesting in the area: the domes, the world-famous Marina Bay hotel, the outdoor sections of Gardens by the Bay, but also the Singapore skyline. but what really stood out to me, especially in the context of my hunt for technologised aesthetics, was secondary to the Grove.

inside the “trunk” of one of the “trees”, a dark box of an elevator awaits. once you have been ushered in by one of the park staff and the automated doors have shut behind you, the entirety of the box lights up. what visitors could understandably perceive as claustrophobic or uncomfortable are in fact display panels. as the elevator moves, so does the perfectly syncronised animation playing around you.

the things playing on the screen could be just as “vaporwave” as many other things in the city: expert animations, with a drop of futuristic optimism - a masterful wedding of botanical themes and technological elements.

*walking along the “canopies”, Marina Bay to the right. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

“this is a little strange” i caught myself thinking as i checked my pins on google maps. “who the hell visits… malls?”

i was naive. months later i’d find that malls are treated very much like attractions in cities like Bangkok.

but i digress - on my very first day in Singapore, i set off towards Orchard Rd. on foot. not only did i want to visit the (cunningly-placed) Apple store, but i also wanted to check out what appeared to be a long row of multi-leveled buildings, stitched together into what promised to be the largest shopping complex i’d ever seen.

in truth, everyone knows about Orchard Road. it’s iconic. it’s historically charged. it is no wonder that the entire row of shopping malls appears to be comprised of buildings from different eras. the surface is one thing; the interior, a completely different story. there are many ways of accessing the shopping complex, but no matter where you land, you still have to contend with the incomprehensibility of the layout. the meandering hallways appear to have no measure of architectural common sense. for a newcomer, getting to a particular store could possibly feel like a boy scouts’ orienteering challenge - you think you have it, but all of a sudden, the corridor you thought was going to take you to H&M is interrupted by… a tiny, two-step staircase, leading to an unexpected mezzanine. not only have you missed the mark, but you’ve probably reached a completely different building.

*a woefully high contrast shot of Orchard Rd. harman phoenix 200.*

it doesn’t help that most of these structures feature several floors, both up and down. oh, the food court at -2 feels a little claustrophobic? wait until you see -4. i also happened to be visiting around Chinese New Year and all of these structures were packed. virtually all of the stores were getting patronage. for someone more likely to be seen outdoors, like myself, all of this may be a little bit much. personally, i avoid getting overstimulated by using a pair of noise cancelling headphones, but that hardly makes it easier to read the directions of flows of people. i often found myself walking “against the current”, getting weird looks from the people i was inadvertently standing in the way of.

in essence, the madness on Orchard Rd. had little to do with what i had seen in Funan. it was certainly impressive in its own right, but it did not quite scratch the itch. later in 2024, i would learn there are malls out there with much higher potentials of satisfying my desires for vaporwave visuals. as i would later see in Bangkok, particular indoor environments borrowed heavily from “traditional” ones (the floating market; the stalls at the festival; the traditional homestead etc.), but Singapore still did a good job of priming me for a much better experience at a later date.

weeks after my trip to the Strait, while discussing malls with an acquaintance, i jokingly claimed one could walk across the entire city state without seeing the sky. the more i think about it and in equal measure, the more i think about the malls on Orchard Rd., the more realistic this hypothesis sounds.

*with how green Singapore is, it may not in earnest be possible to cross the city without going outdoors. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

the gardens at CapitaSpring must have been the first item i added to my google maps itinerary when i first started planning the trip to Singapore. if i remember correctly, i simply googled “rooftop garden” and swiftly decided to visit.

*an architectural marvel. kodak gold 200.*

i ended up going twice. i like to think of my visits as complementary - while the first happened around closing time, equating to a rushed walk around, an overcast sky dashed all hope of getting good light during my second. notably, CapitaSpring wasn’t particularly crowded for either one, as the booking system on the website would have suggested.

there are, in fact, two separate locations one can visit within the skyscraper at 88 Market St.. the top floor is a particularly attractive, yet modest garden, providing a remarkable panorama over the city.

*Marina Bay from the top of CapitaSpring. harman phoenix 200.*

more notably, the Green Oasis, spanning floors 17 to 20, were nothing short of an architectural wonder. i claim these are the real highlight of anyone’s visit at CapitaSpring and the images speak for themselves.

what could potentially make CapitaSpring slightly difficult to visit has to do with it being reserved during working hours. only those toiling away in the building have access to the gardens during working hours. i could not help but wonder about the sort of job one should have to access such a facility.

*high rise gardening. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

aside from the opportunity for a grand panorama of the city, the upper floors also provide a snapshot of what those living on or with access to the top floors of all the buildings around. what is it that makes top floors so desirable? is it exclusivity? does it tickle some evolutionary residue that tells us the individual securing the best visibility has the best chance at survival? whatever the case, i’d wager everyone has daydreamt about swimming in a penthouse pool.

*don’t be fooled into thinking this is not the 15th floor or so. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

CapitaSpring ticked all the boxes i thought it would: a strong whiff of capitalist opulence - how an earth was this funded?! -, coupled with architectural mastery and the sanitised aesthetics typically associated with a particularly performant corporate entity (or conglomerate?). more importantly, it’s yet another glimpse into what the future could have looked like, where the availability of knowledge and resources could have secured a reasonable slice of such comforts for all of us. in reality, what CapitaSpring meant to me was scarcity and lack of access: you can only visit within a specific time frame; you are presented with a soulless online interface, where you need to “book a slot”; there’s a pair of disgustingly polite concierges downstairs, managing the flow of visitors, as visually overstimulating images are projected across the (gigantic) ceiling; a couple of insultingly expensive carts peddle single-origin brews in the middle of nearby oasis, a highly curated artificial park nestled between ridiculously tall skyscrapers. in essence, the relatively frictionless access to CapitaSpring only served to pour salt on an imagined wound.

*visuals across the ceiling at CapitaSpring. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

i might be wrong here, but i suspect that for many of us traveling is as much about coming home as it is about going someplace else. during particularly rushed trips, i found myself dead tired on the morning of my departure, scrambling to jam everything inside my bags and catch the quickest possible means of transportation to the airport. at that point, the places you’ve fallen in love with (or so you have claimed on social media) no longer send you swooning over the life you could have in your host city. not unlike an intoxication-fueled one night stand, there’s very little love to speak of the morning after. it’s time to head home and boy, you couldn’t wait for that airbus to leave the runway behind.

but what if the airport was more than just a… non-space of sorts, destined only to be temporarily inhabited by agitated travelers? what if the airport provided a key experience, as much part of the itinerary as any other site in the city?

*a repeat of the cover image? yes. but just look at it! kodak gold 200.*

from my simpleton’s perspective, Jewel Changi could almost be a like a synecdoche for the city of Singapore. in simpler terms, it is almost like a miniature model of the city, but with the advantage of having been created on a far shorter timeline than the city itself, without the added complications of tens of years of urban planning. the result is a cohesive facility designed for massive footfall, which it gracefully accommodates practically at any given time.

for those inclined to do so, shopping in Jewel Changi is nothing short of a premium experience. there are so many avenues for consumerism it is almost surreal, some with a flavour of grandomania. take the Nike store, for instance: it is of such proportions, especially the logo, it stands a real chance of drawing you in, even in the context of so many other brands clamoring for attention. but what’s even more impressive is the sheer diversity of stores, spanning an entire range of prices. whatever your budget, rest assured there will be opportunities for you to spend.

on a similar note, the eating amenities are unexpectedly diverse, yet without the customarily outrageous prices of airport dining. in fact, Jewel Changi was my last chance of enjoying a ridiculously loaded tom yum at saap saap thai, an unassuming, yet surprisingly good broth’n’noodle chain.

*luxurious dining: you wouldn’t think this is an airport. kodak gold 200.*

nonetheless, what truly sold me on Jewel Changi was the time i spent in a Yotel. the latter is a capsule hotel, with branches around the world, meant to be used by weary travelers over short, several hour sessions to recharge their batteries (literally and metaphorically).

*welcome to the porn hotel. iphone 13 pro max.*

i find capsule hotels really interesting. i think the novelty factor really works on me. i’d often dreamt about spending a few nights in one of these, but i’d passed on each one of the opportunities to actually do it.
i’d booked a few hours in Yotel just for the sake of napping ahead of my very long flight home, as well as a 13-hour layover in Istanbul.
Yotel really delivered: the design of the room reminded me of a drawer, with plenty of moving parts, multi-functional appliances, and layers sliding in and out in unimaginable ways. truthfully, it wasn’t quite like that, i’m just letting my imagination loose.
in reality, the room had been designed around tight tolerances: the door would open inwards, brushing very slightly against adjacent surfaces. the couch doubled as a bed, with the upper half of the mattress sliding outwards at the push of a button. the bathroom, practically the bottom section of the “drawer”, only featured a sliding door. other space-saving measures involved a hanging piece of furniture which not only featured pegs for your clothes, but also a layer to place your suitcase upon.
the icing on the cake had to be the neon purple lighting, a trademark of the Yo! brand.
for most people, the “capsule” room may feel slightly claustrophobic. but i still think this is an excellent option if you’d like to keep jet lag at bay and take advantage a bit of silence, a regular room, and a shower in between flights.

though i couldn’t sleep a wink, i made the most of whatever time i had in my matchbox room, then went on to explore the rest of the airport. as i glided along the many circular floors of the airport by means of automatic stairwell, i listened to Gershwin (for the first time, in fact!) and basked in a sort of a self-manufactured beatitude.

*at the intersection between park and airport lobby. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

V.

to nobody’s surprise, i left Singapore feeling melancholic. i had seen what a version of the future could be. i had witnessed rampant consumerism, corporate opulence, and marvelous gardens i’d likely never forget.

a little gap had certainly been filled within me.

months down the line, looking at the photos i brought back, i understood why i’d been so drawn to 35mm film during this trip: many of these images, i would argue, look like they could have been taken some other, stabler, more prosperous time. it’s the details that give away when their belonging in the present. to me, this little collection of photos, places Singapore in an atemporal space, where the past, both imagined and real, coexists with the future, but also with a desire of my own for experiencing a future that was promised, but never materialised.

postscript

quite a few of the things i visited in Singapore did not make it into the body of the article. none of these strayed from the “manifesto” of my trip, yet i did not feel quite as strongly about them as i did the ones presented above. i will endeavour to mention a few of these place in the following.

cut content: Singapore Botanical Gardens - make no mistake: these were as impressive as any other sites in Singapore. boasting several greenhouses, each with its own little niche, the Botanical Gardens could easily captivate you for an entire day. based on other articles on the web, all similar in touristic scope to this one, a key attraction of the Botanical Gardens is the “vip” orchid garden. the latter houses a collection of rare orchids, all named after visiting wives of heads of state or other significant individuals. this to me was not unlike taking a stroll through a graveyard of sorts. nonetheless, if you like gardens, you’re definitely going to love these too.

*luscious orchids in a greenhouse, somewhere in Singapore Botanical Gardens. harman phoenix 200.*

*botanical dimensions. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af.*

cut content: the streets of Singapore - it’s no secret that the old and the new coexist in the city-state. this makes it a street photographer’s paradise. well, maybe not as much as maybe… Hong Kong, but it is not too far off. for those with a love for architecture, along with sufficient knowledge of the field to decode the many cues surrounding them at all times, Singapore could mean absolute bliss.

chinese new year’s preparations in the streets of Singapore. sony a6000, samyang 12/2af + harman phoenix 200.

cut content: peranakan culture in Singapore - i would have never finished the article had i decided to try to cover this. in (very) brief, peranakan translates to “born of” and refers to the chinese communities that have made home of various sea ports in Malaca Strait and beyond. not only has this generated immense wealth for some, but also specific taste in clothing, architecture, art, and so on.

perhaps i will approach this field of enquiry some time, once i’ve explored other such points of interest in the future.