Which is okay. If, after more than 20 months of the pandemic, there are people who through their own stupidity, catch it and croak, it's their own affair. I'm fine with that.
Many of the idiots appear to be white.
That's just a coincidence, yes?
There were only two other eat in customers at that hour. The busy time there is mid-morning to mid-afternoon. Such emptiness was what I was counting on. Their food is decent, the place is clean, the lighting and the ambience (such as it is) suit me, there is a jar of sambal on each table, and the staff there is very considerate and friendly toward me.
三菇雞球飯
Sautéed chicken and three types of mushrooms over rice ('saam gu gai kau faan'). A medley of fungi stirfried and sauced. They also do porkchops and beef dishes, plus a great selection of fried or in-soup noodles. And there are, to the best of my knowledge, few or no other Caucasians who go there, not even the tourists.
Which is a change from two years ago when white tourists asking about spring rolls or charsiu buns were all over Chinatown. That being the two items they know about. Spring rolls, charsiu buns, shrimp fried rice, and sweet and sour pork -- or General Tso's whatsit and kung pao whatever -- are a veritable feast. Ex-quise!
The pipe afterwards took me through alleys. It was late and cold, closer to dinner time. There were no maskless morons to impede my progress or complain about the smoke. Dark and shadow alternating with patches of light added a Miyazaki-esque charm to the walk.
My working days are when I have to deal with my fellow whites. On my days off I really don't want to see them. Especially not their big fat free ranging noses, unmasked.
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