DAY 1: A Walk Between Worlds – Queenstown HDB & Kampong Glam

After touching down, navigating through Changi’s well-orchestrated spatial choreography, and finally arriving at our hostel—BEAT. Sports Hostel tucked into the lively Jalan Besar district—we barely had time to rest. There was a shared understanding among all of us: we weren’t here just to see; we were here to learn with our feet. So, bags were dropped, bottles refilled, and off we went again—this time, to Queenstown, one of Singapore’s oldest and most architecturally significant HDB towns.

Queenstown HDB: A Living Urban Museum

Taking the MRT from Jalan Besar to Queenstown gave us a quiet moment to observe the city’s infrastructure, and more interestingly, its transitions. The deeper we moved westward, the more visible the HDB clusters became. Unlike the dense, often neglected image of Malaysian flats or PPR housing, Singapore’s HDBs emerged with an unexpected dignity—structured, scaled, and spaciously arranged within a well-maintained landscape framework. 

Arriving at Queenstown MRT, we stepped into a town that felt almost like a living archive of Singapore’s housing evolution. Queenstown isn’t just any HDB town—it’s the first of its kind, planned in the 1950s as Singapore’s first satellite town. And despite its age, it doesn’t feel obsolete. On the contrary, it feels renewed. It’s modern, green,  inclusive—a powerful visual and spatial contrast to what many Malaysians experience in their own public housing environments.

The first thing I noticed was how intentionally green everything felt. Trees lined every path, casting long shadows that created shaded corridors even at midday. Residents had subtly claimed the ground floor spaces, transforming front yards into community gardens, growing everything from orchids to potted chilies and climbing vines. These weren’t haphazard encroachments; they felt accepted, maybe even encouraged. 

The residents weren’t just living in these flats—they were living with them.

The public realm here was something to study in itself. The sidewalks were wide and clean, with pervious pavements allowing for sustainable water absorption. No potholes, no clutter, no dangling wires or broken tiles. The car parks were carefully arranged, edged by green buffers, while the buildings themselves were kept at a human scale—typically around 10 to 12 storeys—with open void decks on the ground floor. These weren’t wasted spaces; they were used for gatherings, quiet conversations, drying laundry, or simply waiting out the afternoon heat.

Architecture That Encourages Community

One particular boulevard caught my attention—a long pedestrian-focused walkway, flanked by planted strips and shading trees, connecting the HDB clusters directly to the nearby MRT station. This is the kind of pedestrian-first urbanism that is so rare in Malaysia. In Kuala Lumpur or other urban Malaysian contexts, walkways are often afterthoughts—broken, narrow, exposed. Here in Queenstown, they are the main feature. There was no rush, no honking; only the sound of bicycles and footsteps, and occasionally, birdsong.

The path passed between HDB blocks and charming low-rise terrace houses—possibly remnants of pre-HDB developments or early transitional housing. These juxtaposed layers of architecture created a textured urban narrative. Walking that stretch didn’t feel like cutting through someone’s backyard; it felt like participating in a designed, inclusive system. There’s a subtle psychological comfort when the environment tells you: 

“You belong here.”

As a Malaysian architecture student, I couldn’t help but compare. Malaysian flats often suffer from poor maintenance, limited community interaction, and a lack of green integration. Queenstown showed me what’s possible when public housing is treated as public good, not a low-cost afterthought. Singapore’s investment in quality urban design, landscaping, and maintenance reflects a governance model that believes architecture can build dignity.

From Modernity to Memory: Kampong Glam

Our next stop for the day was Kampong Glam, a vibrant district near the Bugis area, historically known as Singapore’s Malay-Muslim quarter. Rich in tradition and heritage, Kampong Glam was once the seat of Malay royalty in Singapore and today remains a vital cultural enclave reflecting the country’s Islamic, Malay, and Arab influences.

As we wandered its streets, what stood out immediately was how successfully the area had balanced tradition with tourism. Many shophouses had been repurposed into boutiques, cafés, art galleries, and souvenir stores, yet the district’s soul still felt intact. The streetscape design—particularly along Haji Lane and Bussorah Street—was intimate, pedestrianised, and rich in texture.

I noticed the arcaded five-foot ways, or kaki lima, characteristic of colonial-era shophouse architecture, possibly with influences from Indo-Malay and European styles. These shaded walkways provided a semi-private realm where architecture meets street life—places to sit, sip, browse, or sketch. And people were doing all of those things.

Culture, Colour, and Closure of Streets

Several roads were closed off to vehicular traffic, which allowed for the birth of a true cultural street. With no honking cars or traffic fumes, you could actually hear conversations, feel the breeze, and enjoy the art. And there was so much art. Murals bloomed across entire walls, depicting scenes of Malay culture, trade history, and modern expression. These weren’t just decorative—they were layers of identity, memory, and resistance, telling stories about a time before the skyscrapers.

Kampong Glam reminded me of Brickfields in Kuala Lumpur, particularly in how both districts are heritage-centric, yet struggling to retain authenticity amidst commercialisation. The key difference was, in Kampong Glam, the revitalisation seemed better planned, better regulated. Tables and chairs were placed intentionally—not scattered, but part of a cohesive design. Even the signage followed a unified visual language. There’s a consistency in aesthetics that communicates respect—both for the place and the people it represents.

Urban Lessons on Foot

By the end of the day, my legs were tired, but my mind was buzzing. I had walked through two very different architectural ecosystems—the highly planned, modern public housing of Queenstown, and the culturally rich, semi-commercial district of Kampong Glam. And yet, in both, I had seen a common thread: 

Singapore’s commitment to human-centric urbanism.

What makes these spaces work isn’t just good design—it’s the care, curation, and continuity behind them. Queenstown’s HDBs weren’t perfect, but they were livable, green, and socially sustainable. Kampong Glam wasn’t frozen in time; it had evolved while respecting its roots. Together, they told a story not just about architecture, but about what kind of city Singapore wants to be—walkable, equitable, vibrant, and rooted.

And for me, as a student from across the border, this wasn’t just eye-opening. It was inspiring. Because in observing their cities, we learn to dream better for ours.