Perhaps it’s cabin fever — Singaporeans are getting antsy working from home, frustrated with cancelled holiday plans in the face of tightening travel restrictions. Or mayhap, complacency has set in. The world’s medical community has, after all, touted the Singaporean government’s rigorous measures against the spread of Covid-19 as the gold standard for keeping the disease in check. Whatever it is, our island this past weekend was not the ghost town it resembled a month ago after the Dorscon Orange alert was sounded. It was jam-packed everywhere we went: at a kopitiam in Upper Serangoon, a mom-and-pop bakery in Tiong Bahru, a chic new restaurant on Purvis Street, a Chinese fine-diner in Orchard Road, a Yakun outlet in Ion Orchard, and the food basement at Takashimaya. All were thronged with people as if it were 2019 during the Great Singapore Sale, back when we weren’t in the thick of, you know, a pandemic. We’re not suggesting that everyone (who is healthy) isolates themselves at home indefinitely. As social creatures, this is easier said than done. Also, Singapore (for now at least, hopefully forever), doesn’t have alarming levels of infection as seen in Italy. We ourselves venture out about twice a week these days, when the claustrophobia from working at home 24/7 threatens to drive us stir-crazy. However, what we experienced these past few days was a cause for concern.

The government has advised Singaporeans to practise social distancing. What is social distancing, you ask? The idea is to maintain a distance between you and other people — in this case, at least six feet (about two metres). That also means minimising contact with people, says The New York Times. This is important as there is no vaccine for Covid-19 yet, and social distancing is the only thing that works in lessening the spread of the disease now. China’s drastic drop in new cases within the virus’s epicenter in Wuhan is proof enough that this method has its merits.

“I think when you are dealing with an epidemic of a new virus, you are never complacent about it. For both China and Singapore, we may have handled the first phase reasonably well, but we will not be complacent. You should not sound the all-clear,” warns Minister for Foreign Affairs Vivian Balakrishnan in an interview with CNBC. Sage advice, especially when our neighbour, Malaysia, announced last night that it will enforce a “restricted movement order”, which bans citizens from going overseas and foreigners from entering the country for roughly two weeks starting 18 March. The lockdown is in response to a sharp spike of cases in Malaysia. Meanwhile, the disease has brought Europe to its knees, with Italy having an alarming number of deaths that are already half of China’s total. American cities like New York have shut down schools, theatres, bars and even restaurants. Some speculate that the virus may soon blow up in the rest of South East Asia, where a lot of testing is done haphazardly at best — our country has seen a few imported cases from Indonesia, and it has since imposed restrictions on medical tourists trying to seek treatment here.

Singaporeans know all of this. Yet, this was what we witnessed last weekend.


Photo: This is Hunan/Facebook

This scene greeted us at old-school bakery Tiong Bahru Galicier Pastry: a line of 15 people in its cramped premises, standing mere inches away from each other. Perhaps unwisely, we pressed on as we promised to buy its yummy white coconut kueh dadar, ondeh ondeh and kueh puteri ayu for our parents. With health experts’ advice to maintain a two-metre (some say four) gap between strangers ringing in our head, we pointedly gave a wide berth between ourselves and the lady in front. Our efforts were soon scuppered when an auntie rushed up behind us, invading our personal space like a nosy mother who flings open her teenage son’s bedroom door at midnight without knocking. We stepped away in an attempt to put some distance between us. She inched closer. We strode ahead again and she shadowed us once more like a bad movie sequel. Rinse and miserably repeat. “Hey auntie, do you mind not standing so close please?” we finally blurted, not caring if we sounded like a paranoid germophobe (we’d rather be safe than sorry). To her credit, she backtracked quickly, darting her eyes nervously around. We relaxed a little. Soon, it was our turn to order at the cake counter. As we fumbled for cash, we felt someone with clammy skin brushing up against us. Hello again, auntie. In her haste, she probably thought skin-to-skin contact would result in faster service. We damn near sprinted out of the shop. “You should’ve faked a coughing fit, everyone in the queue would’ve definitely steered clear,” jokes a friend after we related this harrowing tale.

The retro bakery is famous for its yummy white coconut kueh dadar.

8days.sg reader A. Wong told us after seeing our Insta story: “That’s not the worst. I was queuing to pay for (uncovered) breads on a tray at BreadTalk when the lady in front of me turned back and coughed. It was my turn next and so the cashier rung up my order. The lady who coughed wasn’t masked — I was shocked. Coincidentally, she did not ‘infect’ her purchases but instead aimed her cough behind her [at me] — no social responsibility. I later binned the bread for peace of mind. My family and friends told me I shouldn't have paid for it and should have gotten new ones, but everything took place in a short span of time and in hindsight, it might have been for the best so that the possibly germy bread wouldn’t make its way back to the shelf.” How ghastly. Pictured: a line with zero social distancing at Donq bakery in Takashimaya.

A Korean banchan store in Takashimaya’s food basement teemed with customers — both locals and tourists — clamouring for samples last weekend. As we waited to be served, we felt an unholy gust of wind against the back of our neck. As we swivelled to find its source, a middle-aged guy with his mug several inches from ours bellowed in Mandarin: “I want spicy anchovies!” We recoiled in horror and glared at him. He jerked back almost comically, embarrassed realisation creeping up on his face as he acknowledged he did a totally uncool thing in the time of Covid-19. The irony? He was wearing a surgical mask — but it was pulled down to reveal his nose and mouth. It stared at us mockingly from the depths of his chin. As if our nerves weren't already frayed enough, the shop assistant then coughed very lightly as she scooped up our anchovies. She may have done this through a mask, but it looked rather flimsy. We get that she couldn't cover her mouth because her hands were busy scooping up our food and that her throat probably tickled so uncontrollably she couldn't help herself — but perhaps turn the other way? Needless to say, we changed our mind about wanting those little fish after all. On a brighter note, the sour & spicy kimchi that we finally tapowed home was pretty appetising.

Even upmarket cafes like Bacha Coffee in Ion Orchard, which is like a glittering java version of TWG’s swish teahouses, didn’t have a single empty seat last Sunday afternoon. There was a mid-length but tightly-packed line of people waiting to enter the busy dining room.

Why do some restaurants still do this when every single thing you put into your mouth is met with suspicion these days? It’s gross even pre-Covid-19, quite irresponsible now. At the two trendy new restaurants we visited last week, we asked for serving spoons for communal dishes. Both times, the waiters simply left the cutlery resting on our bare table. One of them also used a musty-smelling cloth to wipe said table just minutes earlier. Ideally, eateries should place silverware onto plates, wrap them up in napkins, or only provide them directly to the diner when their food is served.

Go out if you must — small F&B businesses in particular need your love during this difficult period. But do so wisely: avoid overcrowded places, maintain a safe distance from strangers where possible, keep your person to yourself (no brushing up against people, please). And for the love of all things that are good, cover your mouth when you cough and wash your hands immediately after. Do your part to help flatten the curve and protect not just yourself, but loved ones who’re vulnerable to the virus. Can’t or won’t do it? Then it’s far safer to endure cabin fever at home instead of being struck down with one of the viral kind.

Photos: Florence Fong