Italo Calvino once wrote thus of the city of Trude, in his book 'Invisible Cities': 'If on arriving at Trude I had not read the city's name written in big letters I would have thought I was landing at the same airport from which I had taken off. The suburbs they drove me through were no different from the others...'. Further down the page, he is told that 'the world is covered by a whole Trude which does not begin and does not end. Only the name of the airport changes.'

Today, I write in a world that is, old clichés aside, changing rapidly by the second. Even as I write this, old buildings are being torn down with previously unprecedented force and rapidity, and new ones being constructed in equal measures of haste and overworked workers. All over the world, cities are being remodelled and new skyscrapers rise to reshape their skylines, redefine their futures perhaps; a new super skyscraper often being viewed as said city's baby steps into the world of mega cities, replete with mega-structures to match.

Being pragmatic by nature, my own country has thrown its lot in with the rest of the super-builders and these past six months alone have seen a sudden rash of new condominiums sprouting up faster than I can count. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I go, I find something has changed, be it a shopping centre getting a new facade or an entirely new shopping centre being built, albeit with a rather strange name attached. Heck, even old buildings and old shopping centres are being revamped, and being given odd names that don't quite fit its demeanor, rather like asking a cat to play Fetch the Stick or bringing said cat out for a swim.

My country is fond of taking Western methods and trying them on for size, applying what works and discarding what doesn't. Which is fine by me – I mean, it's a great way to progress, to take a leaf or two out of a more advanced nation's books, and they do say that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. But I do wonder sometimes if this country is in danger of becoming faceless and internationalised. Or in other words, a Trude as according to Italo Calvino, with the 'same little greenish and yellowish houses,' 'the same flower beds in the same squares', 'goods, packages and signs that had not changed at all'. As it is we have pretty much imbibed all there is to the modern American culture, including having numerous Starbucks outlets in various places, having numerous branches of a large number of fast food chains while our own hawker fare dies a slow, MSG-induced death, and of course, seeing the ubiquitous Coca Cola bottle/can wherever we go.

Don't get me wrong, I am not against the modern American culture; nor am I against globalisation. It is a powerful force, and can be a fantastic tool by which we can exchange information, knowledge and widen our horizons, but I'm just wondering if sometimes pragmatism can get in the way of other, less tangible things; other, more nostalgic things.

Board the Singapore Flyer on any given day and you will realise that half the spectacular sights we are meant to see are still under construction. But no matter, when completed, we will be the proud owners of numerous new attractions, including two Integrated Resorts with casinos. Billed together with the first Night Race, the spanking new Terminal Three at the airport and the fact that high-end hotels and service apartments such as St. Regis and the Pan Pacific Service Apartments have decided to build new residential units here, and one can surely see that this country is about to become the top tourist destination in the region.

The onslaught of globalisation though, has meant more and more people leaving their own countries and going abroad to work. In the past, going abroad meant also receiving a hardship allowance from your company in order to enable you to better adjust to the various difficulties one might encounter in a different environment and when assimilating into a new culture.

Today, however, there is no need for such an allowance because each city is so cosmopolitan and buzzing with such modernity that one no longer feels as if one is uprooting oneself. This can be a good thing – there is less of a culture shock; a skyscraper is a skyscraper in New York, New Delhi and Beijing, it is easier to focus on the task at hand and there is less to get used to. But it can also be a bad thing.

As each city modernises, it tends to become more of a faceless city, each aspirant modelling itself on the major cities like London, New York, never mind that such cities have had nearly 400 years of growing pains, if not more, and some other countries, have had only barely 50. Some of these major cities have had a fair bit of time to work out what to keep and which to discard, while others, comparatively speaking, only began truly modernising yesterday.

What is it exactly that we’re trying to achieve, by sticking closely to our version of those larger-than-life superheroes? Time moves by so quickly nowadays, with the various countries each trying to outdo the other, each trying to make things as efficient as possible, make processes as easy as possible, as fast as possible.

Athletes train to be first on the podium, but that isn't the only reason why they train. Only ask, and you will find a smorgasbord of reasons behind why they want to be first. It is not always being the fastest that matters most. What about having the most heart?

It is the simplest actions that illustrate this point, such as the earlier example given, about renaming an old and much-loved familiar shopping centre something which sounds like it was picked up at the side of the road and which some of the tenants can't even pronounce. Similarly, an old and much-loved red-brick building was torn down to make way for a short tunnel – makes journeys faster, so it is said. But it just feels so awkward to be a teenager now, a this present moment, watching that building come down, and realising that even if you do have any children, you will not be able to show them where you planted most of your roots. There won't be anything to show them except an extremely modern, sleek tunnel where that building used to be, and they will not be able to understand the excitement you try to convey to them, because they are looking at a neatly trimmed grass verge and a larger-than-life tunnel, and trying to imagine a homely red-brick building.

As globalisation strengthens and sweeps across the world, people's roots to one particular place will grow weaker, they will have become citizens of the world – yet another clichéd, trite phrase which is unfortunately true. And always it is familiar sights, sounds, foods and buildings that define a place, a country, in someone's mind, makes it concrete and real. But if those buildings are being brought down on their knees daily, what will anyone have to remember except driving through those same wide roads, those same houses with their not-dissimilar front yards, and those same tall buildings cutting into the sky, the same thoughts of used to be...?

No doubt the name of today's game is living in the present moment, reinventing yourself to keep pace with the millions of other people who have that same degree, come from the same background, even the same school, re-presenting an idea, revamping the city square, revising and recycling old campaigns, reinvigorating tired old abandoned structures that no one has any use for anymore and redecorating them with @'s and !'s.

This is happening all over the world in the name of modernisation, but isn't it the past just as important in any city? Wasn't it the past that shaped and defined the city, made it what it is today, and isn't it the past the very thing that shapes people daily and colours their lives?

As Spider Jerusalem said, 'burn the city into your eyes. Because it may not be the same tomorrow and you'll never get the moment back. Save your City in your memory, because tomorrow some of it will be knocked down and rebuilt to match its new moment.'

With no past, no references, no proverbial tags on various streets and bus stops, we are nothing. People are shaped by their personal experiences, but anchored by the surroundings where those memories were made. No matter that the entire developed world is going at breakneck speed in a bid to break some barrier or another, sometimes, it is vital to stop, smell the roses – as W.H. Davies said, 'what is life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?' – and simply remember every vivid detail.

Because we all know, it probably won't last till the next time we visit.

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