湯圓 Tong1 Jyun2
Note: I just found this piece I had written the night before moving out of Hong Kong. I have since returned! I stare through the smudged glass as the green minibus I just boarded lurches down the street. I grab at the worn handle on the seat in front of me as the driver slams on the brakes and then shoots up to speed again. Though pushing midnight, the night is not lonely. Most pedestrians seem to be spilling in and out of the many tiny restaurants lining the street, no doubt filling their bellies with warm food before hitting their beds. I sit a bit taller, adjusting my grip on the plastic handle. My stop was fast approaching. "太康街 ! Taai3 Hong1 Gaai1!" I call out to the driver who waves carelessly. With another jerk, we lurch to a stop, and I leap through the folding doors. I hesitate for a moment as the van disappears, balancing on the curb for a moment before trotting across the street to the dingy, yellow-lit building looming down at me. Usually not one for eating righ...