THE PAUSE THAT REFRESHES

If you are in the neighborhood, you probably know where it is. If not, you do not need to know the location. Suffice to say that being outnumbered by teenage Cantonese girls drinking tea is a disquieting experience. I had ducked in for a cup of naai cha because it was raining, and I was far from my usual codger haunts (in the rain short distances become enormous).

The tea was not that good. Too white for my taste. The next time I will ask for a stronger brew and less milk.

The mural intrigued me. A koala enjoying a hot beverage with several flying cheeses. Apparently this is the Chinatown outpost of an overseas chain that uses milk imported from Australia. Hence the Aussie furball.
For which I am grateful, because if they used Dutch Lady Milk, which is sold in Malaysia, Vietnam, and Hong Kong, it would have been a curvy dingbat in a long striped skirt and a winged cap, probably with blonde curls and an adorable smile. Surrounded by flying cheeses.

I am profoundly attuned to 'Dutch' sensibilities.
Dutch girl stereotypes need a trigger warning.

But everyone is cool with flying cheeses.

By the way, consumers of Dutch Lady Milk ALL have white moustaches. Which is just wrong. There is a marvelous invention known as a "napkin", perhaps you've heard of it?

A koala dreamily drinking a warm beverage of choice is something with which a man can deal. Even though I first misidentified it as a wombat.


No, female Cantonese teenagers are not loud and giddy, despite the caffeine coursing through their system. Instead, they quietly discuss homework, as far as I can tell, and check their e-mail. I wasn't really paying attention. From my own teenage years I do not remember girls drinking tea, or women of that age being particularly small.

Honestly, I do not recall a surfeit of tea parlours in Valkenswaard or Eindhoven; had they existed this blogger would have been a regular customer. The Dutch mostly swill strong coffee.

While there I thoroughly cleaned one pipe, and prepared another one for a soothing smoke in an abandoned doorway once I left. There are a number of such in the area, and of course Stockton Street substantially shuts down at six, so wandering back to the central zone under awnings and hugging the sides of buildings is both do-able and enjoyable.


I only finished half my cup. They do not carry any of the usual pastries, and teenage Cantonese girls speak English, so listening in on their conversation is possibly more undiplomatic and less interesting than overhearing a collection of old Canto codgers.


The second pipe was more enjoyable than the first.
It had already become night by then.
An excellent doorway.

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