At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, June 05, 2016


The elderly Fukienese gentleman on a whim left the bakery, and came back ten minutes later with a durian. Which one of the counter ladies then proceeded to carve open, so that the creamy pudding-like segments within could be dumped on a plate.

If you've never tasted durian, you should.


Several years ago I got on a plane in Cagayan De Oro after devouring durian for breakfast. By the time we landed in Manila, there were over a dozen empty seats around me, and I had several new sworn enemies.

Fortunately one no longer need go so far afield to enjoy this strongly emotive fruit. It is now available flown in from the tropics, and widely available many months of the year.

But it is irresponsible to have a plate of it sitting on a table in a bakery, happily emitting fumes.

Or, at the very least, somewhat undiplomatic.

Sometimes you can see a ghastly disaster happening like a slow-moving trainwreck. The trestles give way, there is a frantic whistle, and the mule at the crossing balks. Damned beast won't move an inch. "My road", he seems to say, "and that steam-belching ass has NO right of way!"
However the locomotive is far more stubborn.
You know what's going to happen.
But you watch anyhow.

I decided to have another cup of milk-tea, because there was every reason to stay and be an impartial observer. Unspeakable horror.
Sometimes a man has got to do things.

Tea time was surreal.

I am hardened.

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