Heartland Apples

Regardless of many of our commands of English (we're Indian man, whaddya expect), this whole Heartlander vibe still overflows with gusto all the while. Not all Heartlanders spew Singlish like tongue got caught in the meat grinder. With all this Cosmopolitan vs Heartlander, comparisons going around since the first time the Men In White brought it up, to me, Heartlanders differ in only one way. They're more neighbourly. And its about pheelings derived over YEARS, not "hello, welcome the new neighbour with butter cookies" kinda Wisteria Lane bullshit just for you to move out in a coupla months cos you made a killing on the real estate market.

See, let me give you a prime example of how this works in the heartlands aka "insert name" new town. Today my best bud came back from work and called me ahead of time. Nothing much was said, "Come down. 5 mins. My pondol". Pondol is "shed" I think, and its that thingy they built at the end of blocks so that you don't get wet in the rain when someone is tryin to pick you up. So, I came down, and there pulls up the fella with 3 huge bags. Full of green apples and lemons. I was like, you robbed the fruit shop at central?

So, story is that, he was working at a warehouse sale for Philips juice machines and these were the excess fruits used to demo the machines, since it was the last day, all were for the taking. That was like over a hundred apples and thirty odd lemons. Problem also. What to do with all these fruit? Offering to God? Eat through the lot? Donate it to hungry people? Why not do all three?

The 50-50 ratio seemed a bit too hard to handle. Problem solved with one whistle. Another childhood buddy's head popped out of the corridor high up on the 6th floor. He was called to take his share. So with it all split, I lugged home like many many fruits. Miss V had already started and I was late!

On the way, 2 apples went to these 2 boys who nearly mowed me down with their blades. 4 went to my 6th floor auntie, as appreciation for giving birth to those 2 beautiful creatures who grace my field of vision each day. 2 went to the 7th floor uncle, hoping that he will smoke less cos the smoke travels upwards (hot air rises) into my flat. 2 went to my next door neighbours, who well even by donating us luo han and Chinese New Year goodies, have never much asked for anything in return.

With that done, good neighbourly acts done. My mum told me she DID have a juicer to work these apples down to a pulp with. Solid work. She juiced. I suggested a green apple milkshake. My youngest said let's add a dollop of ice cream. And there you had it. A green apple milkshake float. But being heartlanders, it's never enough to munch yourself. You invite everyone around you to do so too. Or at least share the recipe. And that's what we did. On the phone, while standing outside my place smoking, through MSN.

This is what it's all about. Which is why I think I'll never leave the country. Not with all the three letter acronyms (ERP/CTE/COE) and the MIW (Men In White) making it unsavoury at times. Cos, where else would you find 20 odd years and counting worth of roots to rely on? Canada? Australia? Britain? Your head ah. Those peeper down there think YOU'RE the outsider like how we think those Ang Mohs in Attica are.

On other mundane news, I've decided to finance my driving. Yes. Influenced by Jo. I think I should own a license, but not a vehicle. And I shall stop being a psychic and predict my impending counting of bars due to drunk driving or speeding. Hopefully, they'll invent some child lock thingy for the steering wheel when I finally do get my license, so people can help keep me out of trouble.


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