Tuesday, August 21, 2018

COFFEE AND CONDENSED MILK

Sadly, the Chinatown tutu man (mentioned in previous posts) is no longer wearing his tutu. Now he's down to what are either yoga pants or stretchy dance tights. Perhaps the undersize tutu was too constricting. The problem with yoga pants is that it now looks like his testicles are too big.
Perhaps the britches aren't roomy enough.

No, I did not stop to carefully scope him over.
I'm leaving that for social services.


Never stare, never catch their eye, never start a conversation, with people who have the obsessive life styles. Or made very evident berserk choices.
Which, to many of the elderly Toishanese folks in Portsmouth Square, almost all of us Caucasians did.

If you think about it, that's one good reason to be calm, dress neatly, and have a recent haircut. It lessens the impression that everything about one was a bad accident, or might be such a thing waiting to happen.

It also helps if you speak Cantonese. That diminishes the death-pallor of your white skin, and makes you seem almost human.

Even if, like me, you are 100% kwailo.

Rational, semi-clean.



The tutu man is Chinese, but does not act entirely right anyhow. The child's tutu suggests more than a few bad choices AND weird accidents in his pilgrimage, and leaves one wondering what happened to the original occupant of said garment. Did he perhaps eat her?

Little girl dancing garb is NOT suitable for an adult man, ever. I'm not being judgmental here, just stating what I think is a sane common-sense opinion.

Gender issues do not enter into it, please wear appropriate sizes.

Anyone triggered by this can get bent.



In other news, the three darling little boys at a place where I had coffee were at it again. Great after school fun, under the frazzled eye of an auntie. Boisterous, a bit loud. At one point auntie gently chided one of them "kam mow lei mau ge", when he said something which was perhaps a bit forward to a female customer. It can't have been very bad, she laughed.
Although he recognizes me from previous visits, he still finds it difficult to believe that I speak his language. And I have assured him that I do not. Why, I cannot even say one word in it! Quite a discussion ensued.
He remains somewhat baffled, however.
We didn't talk English.



AFTER WORD

Hong Kong style coffee (港式咖啡 'gong sik kaa fei') is, as I thought, semi-strong coffee with sweetened condensed milk (煉奶 'lin naai') stirred in. Probably Sữa Ông Thọ brand (壽星公煉奶 'sau sing gung lin naai'), which is a little more common here than Hong Kong's favourite type, Black & White Evaporated Milk (黑白淡奶 'haak paak taam naai'), though they are manufactured by the same company.




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