IT'S PROBABLY RAINING THERE RIGHT NOW

The oglable young ladies were nothing to write home about -- that is to say, I had other things on my mind, like not getting crashed into by large tourists wandering lost and baffled through the narrow alleyways, marvelling at the total alleywayness of it all -- and by the time I felt hungry, dim sum no longer beckoned. Instead I went to a chachanteng for lamb brisket and dried tofu sticks over rice (枝竹羊腩飯 'ji juk yeung naam faan').

Cup of hot milk-tea, heaping plate of food. Soup and a hot bun.

And a restaurant full of loudly talking old gentlemen.

Only three women customers.


One of whom looked bored as all get-out, and understandably so, because accompanying your husband of several decades to a place where there's no one else to talk to, and then he insists one ignoring you while reading the entire newspaper, can be somewhat less than no fun at all.
It is, in fact, the perfect description of a rotten date.

Why, there are so many more nice things to do!

Like watching the bakery counter with anguished eyes, as one Swiss Roll Cake after another disappears. So few left! The place does very nice Swiss Roll Cakes -- sweet cream, chocolate, mocha, and lemon -- and picking one up for four lovely decadent private servings later is a major reason to go there. Sheer heaven! A wonderful idea!

But not if your husband is more interested in the classifieds than you.

She looked quite utterly forlorn and lonesome.

And damned near close to tears.

Worst married date.

Ever.

After a while she just upped and left. Probably went to find some friends to talk to. He didn't even notice. One moment she was there, the next moment her place was empty, his newspaper was still up shielding him from her absent eyes, and she was gone.

Personally, I think she should change the locks when she gets home.


After finishing my meal I loaded a pipe and wandered up toward Waverly, dodging cow-eyed tourists and sundry white folk who haven't yet figured out how to use a sidewalk effectively, eventually ending opposite Culture Lite Printing (文光印務設計公司 'man gwong yan mou chit gai gung si'), watching the non-tourists going about their business. It's much more entertaining, and far less likely to leave one feeling peevish.

At my age, peevishness comes naturally.

Once I finished the pipe I went down to the park to see if the erhu player might be there. He was, and so was his friend with the bamboo flute. While enjoying their music, a friend of theirs came over, and sang along while they played "Home Town Rain". Which, because you may not be familiar with it, I reproduce below.


故鄉的雨 GU HEUNG DIK YÜ


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4Qp_P_VCpk.]


故鄉的雨

一封家書 一聲關注　
一句平常的體己語
令我快慰 心裡滿是暖意　
猶如令我置身春暉裡
重提到家中簷前舊燕 重回舊里家中居
信中寫到家鄉的雨 滴滴細雨話兒時
問我有否記掛舊燕子 家鄉的細雨

爸爸的心 媽媽的意 充滿慈祥的關注
入我眼裡 心裡滿是歉意　
繁忙鬧市看不到喜歡的雨
難忘記我學牛郎騎父背 童謠漫唱一家歡喜
母親的笑深深記 望著這信淚兒垂
念到故鄉兩老 願似燕子 家鄉飛去


Fanny Kaoru (王薰妮 Wong Fan Nei) was born in 1956, started singing professionally as a teenager, and was one of those beloved voices from years ago one often wonders about. Where are they now, what happened to them? After marriage, she moved to Toronto. In 2008 she was diagnosed with lupus. Her last blogpost was in 2014.
She was active on Facebook as recently as June of this year.


The erhu player, the flutist, and the singer in Portsmouth Square were all at least a decade older than Ms. Kaoru. Obviously they were in the primes of their lives when that particular song was popular.
They remembered it with fondness.


Youth, rain, hometown.
Many years past.
Sojourners.
Age.


Except for the tensely wound waitress at the chachanteng, every single person I dealt with in Chinatown today was older than me.
Which makes me feel young, oh god yes.
I am full of piss and vinegar.
Beans!




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================