LAST DAY OF REAL FOOD

Heading into the work week, which starts tomorrow, I always enjoy the last few hours of sanity and real food. Had lunch at a chachanteng, and after smoking my pipe and shopping went for another cup of milk tea and an egg tart at a bakery. Which was crowded. As it often is in mid afternoon. Normally I do not deal well with crowds at all. But there was a place to sit, on the periphery, and I recognized most of the people there. Friendly nods, then a peaceful half hour of listening to other folks chatting.

I've realized that one of the things I like about Chinatown is that though I stand out because I'm Caucasian, it's considerably less than among fellow Caucasians where I stand out because of my "English" accent, which irritates the spit out of some people, who insist on treating me as if I'm some foreigh Masonic or Russian agent.

Chinatown simply is a more welcoming environment.

In internet reviews of the place where I work, I'm identified as 'the Englishman'.


In Chinatown, if I'm mentioned at all, it's probably "the Lofan who reads and writes".

Perhaps "old white dude who speaks Cantonese".

Which, given how anti-foreign white Americans are in general, is much better. After being told so many times to go back where I came from, despite actually being back where I came from, you will understand that I have little trust in most of my fellow Americans and sure as heck do not wish to visit the other states. Y'all dress funny, talk weird, and eat too much.

Besides, I've seen what you eat. It's crap.



The lady who sold me the filled buns and the glutinous rice balls asked me if I was Chinese. Which, considering my big nose and grey eyes, is both odd and amusing. Personally I don't think I could look any more white, but apparently she didn't see that.
For over three hours I didn't speak a single word of English.
Spoke English again with my landlady downstairs.
When giving her some of the food.
She's Canto-American.
Born here.



I am bitterly resentful that Trump and those crap-fer-brains convoy truckers are considered more American than I or the locals will be for the next few days at work. My ancestors arrived here in 1630. Trump's grandaddy was a German draftdodger. And his wives? Hoo hah!




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