I was all excited by this prospect till I looked in my wallet. I had little money. If I blew my wad at lunchtime, I would have nothing for supper. And it was my longest day of the week at the school. I realized I had to find a cheaper option. I thought of the rice shop down the street which served cheap food but it was so unappetizing -- no way could it fill the spot like fries and mashed potatoes and gravy.
So then I thought of the Muslim Noodle place nearby. I hadn't been there in a while. I could really go for a bowl of their fried noodles -- Chow Mian Pian -- I think it was called. But I felt reluctant because the place wasn't so clean, and I would have to wait, and be stared at by the other customers and staff.
What the hell! I thought and I went.
I tried ordering Chow Mian Pian, but the man working there told me in Chinese, that I could understand a little of, that that dish couldn't be done. So, I went to a big picture menu posted on the wall and pointed at a photo of eggs, tomatoes, and noodles. That could be made was what they indicated to me. And they ushered me to a chair to wait.
While waiting, I observed the following: Authorities looking at the contents of some one's cart -- apparently they don't want people with carts trying to sell things downtown. Fifty uniformed students walking two abreast. A hunch-backed man working in the Muslim Restaurant.
I ordered the food for take-out (I say something like "da-bao" to have this done) and ate it back at school. It hit the spot.