Walk & Discover
The Meownistry of Meow was closed.
Inspecting an ad taped to the window, I learned that this wasn’t a simple cat cafe like I imagined, but a co-working space. I was on vacation. I considered scraping together a plan; maybe pretend to write so I could lounge with the cats and justify being in a co-working space.
It was my last full day in Singapore. All I wanted was to visit the remaining sections of the city on my to-do list and send cat pictures to my co-workers at the library. But the Meownistry was closed.
I learned after my return to the States that Singapore is close to the equator. It explained the constant heat and the thick humidity. After my first day exploring, I learned to bring one of the hotel’s hand towels to clear away my sweat. I carried water and dressed in shorts and sleeveless shirts. I wore a hat and took breaks in air conditioned buildings.
Standing outside the closed cat co-working space, I knew it was time for another break. I spent an hour or so walking down Haiji Lane, stopping at a stationery store, snapping photos of the different murals and sending updates to my mom. It was a few minutes shy of noon, but I planned to eat lunch in Little India. I felt the heat settling under my skin. I didn’t want to admit defeat and return to the hotel.
I searched the street. Across from the co-working space, situated between other shops was a small cafe. Outside, a standee with pictures and names of the different drinks was stationed near the front door. I noticed the row of flavored lemonades.
Cafe BomBom.
The interior was a bright, yolky yellow. There wasn’t the blast of AC that I hoped for. But it was cooler than outside. I finally how warm my skin felt. Pop music played through overhead square speakers.
There were two people inside. One sat at a round table, eyes glued to their laptop screen. They didn’t look up as I walked by.
Several feet from the entrance was a glass display with rolled cakes, multi-colored macarons and other enticing sweets. I glanced at the menu above the register. The server, the other cafe occupant, greeted me. She nodded towards an empty table.
“Sit. Get comfortable. Cool off. No need to rush.” There was a slight delay between her speaking and me processing what she said. While I felt confident that I beat the sun, the server read heat exhaustion on my face.
“Cool off,” she repeated. “Then you can order.”
I did as she instructed, all but plopping down on the bench and reaching for the hotel’s towel in my bag.
“One thing about me: I love to walk.” I shared this with two friends on a recent trip to New Orleans. We were five minutes into our walk to the hotel after a brief visit to Frenchmen Street. The others in our group opted to catch an Uber to avoid the sun and heat. But the return trip was under two miles and I was curious, so I decided to let my feet carry me to the hotel.
It is a recent personal discovery. When presented with the option and if the distance isn’t insurmountable, I prefer walking over any other means of transportation. In my former career as a teacher’s assistant, I logged hours and miles during the summer break. It became routine for me to order food for pickup, walk the mile or so to the restaurant and carry my order home.
I find walking to be a more reasonable fitness hurdle to approach than a visit to the gym.
But my willingness to walk, especially while on vacation, is less about meeting a step goal or burning off calories. It is the chance to discover something new, to stumble across unknown stores or meet friendly strangers. With my feet as my mode of transport and my wonder as a compass, the world feels expansive and colorful. There is an intentional connection with my surroundings as I take in as much as I can.
On vacation and in my day-to-day life, I’m not a hardcore planner. I make to-do lists and try to keep to a regime. But rarely am I deeply attached to these plans. Especially on a trip, I find the best way to experience a location is to go in with as little prepared as possible. Of course, I have a way to get to and from my main destination and I reserve a hotel room well in advance of my departure date. Beyond that, I tend to go out and see what I find.
I search for the pulse of the city or town. I compare it to where I live. Is the pace similar or different to where I’m from? If I had to relocate tomorrow, would this place be a contender? (Chicago-yes. New York City-no. Pittsburgh-perhaps). Are residents friendly and open or do they keep to themselves?
I learn to trust my intuition. Rarely has it led me astray. A glance in a shop’s window is enough for me to know if it’s worth venturing inside or moving on. A scan of a restaurant’s menu will tell me if I’ll have one of the best meals of my life or waste my money.
Some friends and family spend hours researching on social media for activities to try or restaurants to visit. They’ll send Instagram reels or social media pages, building out their itinerary from what is shown to them on their main feeds. And while I am in an extended break up with nearly all my social media, I see the utility in relying on it to build a “dream” vacation.
But I also begrudge that surrendering to algorithms and carefully curated pages. It flattens what should be individual experiences as it sends us down pre-determined paths. It functions as the arbiter of what is worthy of awe and wonder. It’s a boring way to vacation.
Each time I’m sent one of those videos, I feel an ache, a quiet disappointment. I’ve lost the chance to discover for myself the culture that makes a place what it is. I want to encourage my friends to surrender and see what happens.
This is an essay less about the virtues of walking and more about the pleasures of organic discovery. It is expressing gratitude for the experiences I’ve lived and the memories that remain with me. It is a reminder that it is rewarding to journey for the sake of journeying and encountering something new.
Returning to that bright cafe in Singapore: I ordered the Blue Lemon Soda and a raspberry macarons. I originally wanted a slice of cake, but they were out of the flavor I was set on. I asked the server what she recommended and she suggested the macaron instead.
We made small talk at the register.
“Are you visiting? Or here for work?” she asked.
“Visiting. My mom is here for work. I decided to join her and sightsee.”
“I love that.”
I mentioned that we were bound for South Korea the next day. I learned the cafe is a Korean chain.
“Depending on where you’re staying, there should be another shop near by.”
“We’ll be in Seoul first, then Busan for a few days.”
According to her, there was a location in Busan. Unfortunately, I never found it. But when I return to South Korea in the nebulous future, I will look for it.
I settled onto the bench and wait for my order. My coworkers would need to wait several more days for the promised cat photos. Again, I toyed with the idea of returning to the hotel. I wanted a shower and a nap. But more than that, I wanted to see Little India.
When my order arrived, it took tremendous will not to devour everything in seconds. Eventually another group entered the cafe. They too hoped to escape the heat for a while. I pulled out my remaining postcards and decided on a new path. I would catch a cab to Little India, find a place to eat, walk to the local post office and make my way to the hotel.
And if another shop caught my attention, my plans were always flexible.
I could stop and change directions. And take in the view along the way.
The Meownistry of Meow is a perfect name and a perfect idea but also I love that you found another great option. This is also how I like to travel. You see so much more when you walk!