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There is that one moment you look forward to all day: kicking off your shoes, feeling the warm sand under your feet and finally dipping your toes into the salty water. Yesterday on Singapore’s East Coast, I wanted to find exactly that moment. But what I found instead was the disillusionment of a vision that had been built over.
Trapped between lawn and fence
The journey was long: by train and bus, followed by a walk through long underpasses, we went looking for the freedom of the sea. But the path led us astray – or rather, into a dead end of urban planning. We found ourselves on a narrow strip of grass, somewhere between the hope of a beach and the hard reality of barriers.
Suddenly tall fences rose up everywhere. They blocked not only the way but also the view. You are by the sea, and yet you feel locked in. Instead of the salty breeze we had hoped for, like the one you know from Mallorca, we were met only by still, oppressive heat.
A paradise being dismantled
Finally I stood in the water, feet in the sea – a brief moment of connection. But as my wife watched me, we became painfully aware of how much this place has changed. Just seven and a half years ago it was full of life: we rode a four-wheeled pedal bike, which you look for in vain today. There were groups barbecuing and laughing. Today we only saw a few people barbecuing, like a relic from a time before the signs banning swimming and fishing took over.
The exclusivity of power
On our eight-kilometre walk westwards we saw hardly any attractions. Instead, the construction site dominated:
• The separation: today the high fences protect the views of the “well-to-do” in their new high-rises. If you want to live there, you need a code. If you just go for a walk, you stand in front of locked gates.
• The industry: on the horizon there is no open view, just an endless wall of container ships – a silent testimony to economic power.
My conclusion
After eight kilometres of construction dust, fresh paint on old facades and insurmountable fences, we returned to Bishan. Over dinner we were left with the feeling that something valuable is being lost here. When access to nature disappears behind codes and fences, ordinary citizens are left with nothing but a dusty path across the lawn. A day that began as an escape to the sea and ended as a lesson about the arrogance of planning.
Out of deep conviction, I choose not to photograph luxury residential towers. My camera belongs to the living community, not to the arrogance of exclusivity set in stone.
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