THE CADENCE

Apparently my Mandarin is not as frightful as I thought. I mean, it's still frightful, but the waitress, who didn't speak Cantonese, was dumbfounded when I ordered in her language. Perhaps it was because I read the menu in Chinese. Little trick: don't order food that has characters you aren't sure about, go for the dish next to it. And mentally store the unknown words for looking up later. So, that word actually means and sounds like I thought, I will remember that the next time. Fire plus twelve strokes.


The waitress made sure that I knew that I was remarkable. In all fairness, white people saying anything even halfway intelligible IS remarkable, I have often thought so myself, but there was only one other native English speaker in the place. Two Germans, a French couple, and a tableful of people speaking Spanish. Quite Adams Family, very Gothic.

I had actually intended to eat elsewhere, but they're on vacation.
Which I didn't know when I got off the bus.
This place looks interesting.
Let's give it a try.

The options were not strictly speaking Hong Kong fähig.
Sowieso nicht Kantonesich passend.
炸醬麵？

Excellent, though. I enjoyed my meal.

Chinatown is still filled with tourists. They're loud, they must be American. Not surprising, because this is America, but I think of I would have preferred a worshipful silence.
If that were not possible, indoor voices please.
Modulation!


I know their mommies failed, poor dears, and never managed to teach them Dutch or any other civilized tongue, but not screaming all the time is a basic skill everyone should know.

We could still understand you, even if you had whispered.
Everyone on the street heard. Were we meant to?
Is everyone unhinged back home?
Gee willikers!



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