A Burman

Take a bow Mr. Author you mini-star. The big smiling moon-faced boy picked in one for Burmese…. Myanmar, right? Yes, owned, granted, could not be denied ….. Excellent well. On the strength of that a smoked salmon salad, which would set one back near R20 — SG$7. Only a Mister Somebody could afford somethin like that. The panama fully justified. (Yesterday the Chinese lad here had remarked on the coolness. In the Tropics richly signif. and a breath of fresh air like anywhere else on the planet.) Not bad too landed. Didn’t think to warn about the mayo; simple assumption. From this corner none of the Indian parking wardens, beggars or rough-sleepers were visible. Easier to get down the grub. Sing’ you were paying little less for café 3 – 4 times a week, what’s the big deal. En route what was penned yesterday needed more thorough testing. Yep, it was the black cars that gave off decidedly more furnace blast than the light coloured: a black sporty Subaru that kindly left a gap on the other side of Wong Ah Fook was marked down as clincher. Felt a trifle silly on display with the red bandanna still furled and such a plate presented to all-comers on the street. After all the Peninsular Plaza visits down in the Southern democratic republic the Burmese hardly difficult to discern. A kind of Thai/Filipino softening and rounding with moderate colour tone. Outside the Indonesians from Sumatra mainly, the Burmese were perhaps the largest part of the cheap foreign labour contingent, said to possibly reach as high as four million altogether in Malaysia. A new registration drive was on currently. That was one thing, guessing the nationality. OK, a knowledgeable white guy, well-traveled. The homeland was opening up alright. Artists, thinkers and cool dude off-the-beaten-track explorers were shoulder-to-shoulder visiting with the Corp guys and all the other pin-heads. But pulling the lingo outta the hat like a gleaming eyed rabbit.

         —Te – zu – dje – bade.

         Not easy to produce cold without warning, but one had mastered it now.

         Left the chap seriously rocked and wobbly on his feet a couple moments. Hold steady my man, light touch on the shoulder. Well, blow me down. Rounded moon-face said it all, brightly rising. After the chap caught his breath a little unnecessarily translating, — Thank you.  
         When you were always 3^rd and 4^th coolest dude in Melbourne—third or fourth stop on the flute the Serbs say—and playing catch-up alla the time, a few seconds choice satisfaction.