“Don’t waste that, let me get you a paper bag". Despite my protests in halting Cantonese, the affable old man disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear a minute later, triumphant paper bag in hand. After thanking him profusely, I pocketed the sweet, sticky pastry and showed off the finished product to him with a grin.
I met this kind stranger at a shockingly crowded dim sum cafe along Wellington Street, where sharing tables is the norm. After staring at me throughout my meal, wondering why this Chinese girl speaks neither Mandarin nor Cantonese, but shared a language closer to the gwei los (foreigners), he must have decided that I was simply a clueless tourist, overwhelmed by the madness that is Lin Heung and needed help navigating this old establishment. He was right.
