Currently at Kam Wah Cha Chan Teng in Prince Edward devouring a delicious 8 HKD bo lo yau (pineapple bun with oozing with a scrumptious slab of butter). I am in fatty heaven.
As I am nomming on my heavenly bun of lard, I am also casually engaged in Canto-mando-glish with the random old guy facing me in the same booth. He is laughing at my Canto while barking out random Canto sentences. I smile awkwardly and keep nodding, with completely no idea what he’s trying to convey. The store manager chimes in from time to time with his own stream of cheerful blah blah. This is the norm for a “fake Canto” Asian American like me when I eat alone in authentic HK Cha Cheng Tengs (waiting for a certain Mr. Potatohead)
Due to the lack of space, its common practice to share tables or cram into booths with complete strangers. So when you are the klutzy odd one out, you awkwardly become the center of attention. It gets even better when they realize you have the Cantonese capabilities of a 2 year old. Oh Hong Kong.
Earlier, I finally got off my bum and did a session of hot yoga stretch at MYoga. Our hunky British instructor Daniel really made us test our limits, and boy has Hong Kong done wonders to my flexibility. I am now as flexible as a rock. And now, I am sipping on a fat cup of HK style milk tea and feasting on a huge pineapple-y slab of butter. Wonderful.
Soon, K and I shall embark on our semi-impromptu trip to Zhang Mu Tou, Dongguan, Guangdong, China. Apparently there is little wifi and it is very ghetto, but we shall go with the flow and see what happens.