THE MAN. THE MASK. THE MEAT PRODUCTS.

The same old lady with the elegant scarf on the bus came into the restaurant after I had told the waitres what I wanted, and placed an order for food to go. A woman across the aisle awho may have been Hakka or a little tanned enjoying a boba tea with icecream, and the chap with mild hip dysplasia (髖關節發育不全症 'fun-gwaan-jit faat-yuk pat chuen jing') were the only other people there besides myself and the waitress.


I am not a talkative type, and it's not comfortable starting to chat in the middle of nothing. So other than the music (Mandarin pop songs alternating with rhythm and blues and white folks spirituals -- who the heck put this playlist together?!?!) it was silent.


When the waitress presented my bill after I had finished and was ready to leave, what I felt like saying was: 我鍾意呢個餐廳。 你知唔知點解？ 因為呢度冇好多鬼佬。 鬼佬常常唔戴口罩，也唔知道如何正確戴口罩。("I like this restaurant, do you know why? Because there are hardly any white people here. White people mostly don't wear masks, and largely don't know how to do so properly"). But like pharaoh's butler, I should not draw attention to my failings. One of which, besides my often horrendous accent, is that I'm Caucasian. Precisely like the idiots outside wandering around spreading disease.


Another reason I like that restaurant is the Hong Kong ambience and slightly off-kilter menu choices. Convenient to have someone else make, less so to do them at home. Plus hot milk tea, because it is, of course, a chachanteng. That being a place that does Chinese versions of Western food, or Western inspired Chinese dishes. Like French toast, cheesy baked spaghetti porkchops, Hong Kong borscht, chicken and fries, bitter melon omelette, and fish fragrance eggplant a la Chinese American restaurant run by Cantonese (sauce is sweet, not hot, and there's meat in it, very un-Sichuanese). Plus sweet and sour pork or walnut shrimp for the occasional Midwesterner who wanders in.

The waitress is fun to watch. She has a pleasant intelligent face, interesting facial quirks, and a sharp tongue. There's a lot to visually unpack there.

So there's that too.

Had a pleasant amble though the neighborhood afterwards. From which I learned that normally Canadian Lahpcheung (加拿大臘腸) would cost around ten dollars per pound, but at one place they're charging $36.00 for five pounds. It would take me two or three years to go through that much. I am disappointed that I cannot go through lahpcheung fast enough.
I feel less of a man because of it.


When I got home there was an urchin running through the halls in his underwear.
Good thing I put the mask back on after smoking.



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