City & Nature

A flâneur is an urban explorer — a connoisseur of the street. In our rotating column, guests share their musings, observations and critiques of the urban environment in cities around the world. In this issue, art, design and architecture writer Yvonne Xu gives us a snapshot of this moment in history by observing how nature flourishes in the city when humans are forced to withdraw

From 7 April to 1 June, in the context of the

COVID-19 pandemic, Singapore underwent what its government called a ‘circuit breaker’ — a period in which most shops closed, people were asked to stay home and public gatherings were restricted.

’ve not seen a scene so strange: the park is teeming with people, yet all is quiet. Everyone is masked, alone, hushed by caution. To me, it seems like public spaces have turned into highly personal, private spaces. There are no spritely exchanges among the brisk walkers. With see-saws and swing sets cordoned off, children play quietly on the grass on their own. The dog run is also closed, so there’s none of that rough-and-tumble or the pally ruckus of tail chasing.

I wander to the park connector network, a set of green vein-like walking and cycling paths that link the city’s parks, neighbourhoods and transport nodes. The garden trail takes me to the water playground (giant buckets not tipping, cannons dry) and the communal plot (with a lone gardener), and past many lovers’ benches (now marked with forbidding ‘X’s and turned into seats for one).

It strikes me that all of this would have made for a dystopian picture if it wasn’t for the abundance of nature. There’s much to be said about birdsong: now a cacophonous chorus, this lively orchestra performs its repertoire from its foliaged perches. Grass, usually neatly cropped, has spilled over the kerb onto tarmac (maintenance work is on pause), its vivid green redrawing the road edges. And when their sweet, heavy scent permeates my threeply mask, I realise a whole row of trees is in full bloom. Who could walk by this without breaking into a mask-hidden smile?

On my way back, now alert to the pervasiveness of nature, I marvel at the number of pocket gardens in the estate and the fact that even carpark paving stones allow vegetation to take root. In an effort to improve liveability, Singapore is increasing its greenery and biodiversity to become ‘a city in nature’, commitments that make me glad to live here. But for a city that already splits its flyovers so that sun and rain can reach the plants (and other life) below, I wonder how much more it can do to welcome and accommodate nature.

A hint awaits me at home, in the form of an unexpected visitor. It’s a winged insect I wish I knew the name of; it wears an exoskeleton of pale green and it looks so new, so fragile. I hope this stranger will live a long life here, well after the city powers up again, after we pass this strange bubble in time.