Today felt like a gift... one of those Sundays where the sky is bright, the light is clean, and the wind keeps brushing past like a reminder to step outside. There was a strong, cool breeze all day, the kind that makes staying indoors feel like a missed opportunity. So I didn’t waste it. I laced up, grabbed my essentials, and went wandering.
Last week, my footsteps belonged to Somerset; the city kind of wandering. Glassy malls, lively streets, modern food, cool parks, street art, and that buzzing “main character” energy that Orchard Road naturally carries. Somerset is a whole mood: fast, loud, shiny. But today, I wanted something different. Something quieter. Something that didn’t feel like a checklist of places to see, but a place to simply be.
So I headed towards Bishan estate, near Bright Hill MRT station, an area that surprised me the first time I heard about it, because there are so many Buddhist temples around here. Among the most well-known is Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Monastery, and I’ve always been curious about it. People call it one of the biggest and most extravagant in this area, and honestly… the moment I arrived, I understood why.
Stepping onto the grounds felt like crossing an invisible doorway. The city didn’t disappear; Singapore never really does, but the atmosphere changed instantly. The monastery feels expansive, almost like a small world within the world. Wide open courtyards, grand rooftops lined with traditional details, and that beautiful mix of warm colours; reds, golds, earthy tones, that instantly makes the place feel ceremonial and alive.
Every corner felt like a scene worth pausing for. Ornate halls framed by columns, dragon-lined rooftops stretching across the sky, stone guardians watching quietly near entrances. Even the stairways felt dramatic in the best way, leading you upward as if you’re being invited to slow down with every step. I found myself looking up a lot, at the rooflines, at the details tucked under eaves, at the way sunlight lands on gold structures and turns them almost… glowing.
One of the most striking sights was a serene statue set against the open air, paired with golden domes in the background. There was something powerful about that contrast, stillness in the figure, brightness in the architecture, and then the breeze moving through everything like soft background music. I stood there longer than I expected. Not because I was trying to “take it all in,” but because the space somehow made it easy to stay.
And then, right at the heart of this impressive place, I found something unexpectedly gentle: a garden.
It’s “just” a vegetable garden, but it didn’t feel ordinary at all. The beds were neatly arranged, the plants looked carefully tended, and the whole space felt organized like an artwork. There’s a quiet satisfaction in seeing something so well-maintained, orderly, purposeful, calm. Even the soil looked intentional, like someone cared enough to shape it with patience. I spotted young plants spaced properly, trellises set up, and even tomatoes in different stages, green ones waiting their turn, and one red tomato that looked like a tiny celebration of time and sunlight.
Standing there, I could almost imagine the monastery life behind the scenes: the routines, the discipline, the simplicity. Maybe that’s why the garden felt so healing. It wasn’t just about plants, it was about care. About consistency. About the kind of peace that comes from doing small things with attention.
I left feeling lighter. Not in a dramatic way, but in the quiet way that matters. I’m really glad I chose this place today, glad I followed the breeze, glad I wandered beyond my usual city routes, glad I gave myself a different kind of Sunday.
