Along the hike up to the Treetop Walk near Bukit Timah, I smelled a distinct fragrance in the air. “What is that smell?” I asked. I just couldn’t place it, but it was familiar. Could it be lavender? No. Or it could be some sweet, exotic leaf or spice. Not likely, but damned if it wasn’t something fairly powerful. I bet it’s something really nice and unusual.
Then, Ling says, “It is insect repellent.”
“Oh.”
I sure could have used some of that during my brief walk through Punggol Park last night, but I doubt it would have helped. I strolled briskly around the lake, taking in the serene cityscape reflections shimmering whimsically upon its still surface. I wasn’t the only one: the place was packed with joggers, bicyclists, family picnickers, the occasional fisherman, and this perspiring ang moh yearning for a place to sit.
Through all this human traffic only one amiable park bench presented itself to me, and it beheld perhaps the most promising, uncluttered view of the park lake of all the benches. I thought to myself why this particular bench remained unoccupied. Indeed, several passersby seemed interested in a seating arrangement yet didn’t look twice at this vacant bench.
I thought nothing more of it, leaning back in relaxation as the twilight surroundings captivated me completely. That is, until about two minutes later when I felt the first of a dozen stings all across my body. An elderly fellow standing no more than four meters from me looked on as my body convulsed in a spastic, panicked dance.
“Ants,” he said, chuckling as he playfully slapped his wrist.
“Yes,” I replied, reciprocating his gesture with a few well aimed slaps upon my own arms, legs, neck, and back. “Ants.”
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