He know which side of his pants the butter is on.
And he won't piss in his own porridge.
Besides, I'm still miffed at being a kwailo instead of a human.
Did tea time by myself at home. Our landlady (Toisanese American, born here) had gifted us some delicious pastries, and I made myself a cup of milk tea.
SWEDISH PRINCESS CAKE
Had lunch treated like a human. Upgraded bus card treated like a human. Grocery shopped treated like a human. Offered an old auntie on the bus my seat treated like a human.
Also picked up latanoprost at the pharmacy treated like a human.
An advantage there is that I do not complain about things.
And know their procedures at this point.
In two languages.
Human.
Of course, to villagers and many younger American born folks that isn't quite what I am. And to speakers of Shanghainese and Mandarin, because I did not bother to learn how they speak, I am not worth bothering with.
To the folks at the herbalist I visited (pills to aid digestion), I am a fabulous creature worth showing off. Probably because they know I can read, and are still pleased that I used their products to stay alive before I had health insurance. They also consider me human.
Not just your typical honky.
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