Today, I:
said farewell to a friend
had the corn fritters at MART station
earned myself a new bookshelf
walked with her along the river
had a really good homemade dinner
loved orange poppyseed cake in thin slices
Random Memories: Every Recess Period Since I Was Nine
I was never given money as a child to go to school with until I was nine. Throughout the ages of seven and eight, I would always be given a tupperware of peanut-butter-and-(insert mystery ingredient here) sandwiches to take to school, whose bread would harden by the time I took it out of the tupperware.
Still I was easily pleased as a child, and never knew any better. I think that it was only when I was nine that my friends told me about this place called the school canteen.
What is wrong with you? Did you need a seeing-eye dog as a child? I hear you ask. How could you not know that there was a school canteen there! you protest.
Well, in my defence, I loved my seeing-eye dog and I will not have you speak about him like that! *runs off crying into the distance* Hahaha!
The canteen was almost unnoticeable if you didn't know where it was. We actually shared our canteen with the high school next door, and the entrance from our end was located right at the perimeter of our primary school.
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We would walk past these foreboding metallic gates, then make our way down a roughly hewn flight of uneven concrete steps shaded by the zinc roof that continued as far as the steps did.
Our school was located on a small hill, with the canteen located halfway down the slope, sticking out of the hill precariously (which genius architect came up with this one?) This would explain the angled descent, and down below us was the bustling Petaling Street and Puduraya bus station.
There were railings to the side which we could grab on to and prevented us from falling to our deaths as we rushed down the stairs to the canteen whenever the recess bell rang. (Imagine falling to your death on an empty stomach! I'm hungrrryryyyyyy!!!! plop.)
There was not much cover apart from the overhead roof, and so the rain could very well soak you, making the steps and railings slippery as you ran down on a stormy day. (I'm wet and hungrrryryyyyyy!!!! squish.)
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The first thing that you noticed about the canteen was that it was very dark. The fluorescent lights were on almost throughout the day, and despite a bright sunny day, the angle of the canteen and the crowding of the nearby hotels and bus stations meant that you would almost always eat your meals in artificial light.
Which suited the canteen operators who did not want you to know what was in the meals. (It's chicken, really. How would you know what cat tastes like?! Go away!)
To be fair, our school had one of the best canteens in the KL area, as the secondary school headmaster made it a point that we would not be fed junk food.
And so you had your choice of:
(Gerai 1) (Stall 1 etc.)
Nasi Lemak
Roti Canai
Lontong
Kuih-Muih Melayu
(Gerai 2)
Kuih-Muih Cina
Manisan Cina
(Gerai 3)
Laksa
(Gerai 4)
Chee Cheong Fun
(Gerai 5)
Nasi Campur Cina
(Gerai 6)
Har Mee
Loh Mee
Economical Fried Mee
(Gerai 7)
Hot Dogs
Burgers
Dessert
(Gerai 8)
Drinks
(Gerai 8 1/2)
This Indian auntie selling kacang putih (assorted nuts) and vadai (fried Indian donuts) in her little portable stall at the corner.
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My absolute favorite as a primary schoolkid was this:
Economical fried meehoon - good even in bad financial times.
I frequented Stall no.6 so much as a child that the owners of that stall should write me a thank you letter for putting their child through college. Seriously. The couple has been doing it for twenty years or more now, and I saw them still going at it the last time I visited school!
I would always get them to add a bit of sweet brown sauce to the fried noodles, and one day discovered you could get them to put some of the Har Mee soup onto the fried noodles as well! So much bliss for the low low price of thirty sen! (I can still taste it in my mouth now!)
I would love it so much that I would literally lick the plate clean. I remember that it was my good friend in Standard Three, Hoh Chee Choong who taught me how to do that (how come you never forget these names?).
Our tiny tongues would come out and lift every last remaining strand of fried noodles off the green plastic plates, much to the dismay of the owners (who later came to accept it) and the disgust of our friends (who later came to stop being our friends).
As the years went on, though, I grew out of licking plates, and economical fried noodles. I worked my way around the canteen, and the older I grew, the less I frequented stall no. 6.
The uncle and auntie recognised this as well, no longer seeing in my teenage eyes that little boy who would come down day after day, and amuse and flatter them by paying their economical fried noodles the ultimate compliment.
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