Prison Manners

My table manners have deteriorated since I moved here.

Don't get me wrong, I behave myself when I'm in a nice restaurant, or when I'm back in North America.

But when it comes to ordinary, everyday Hong Kong fare, I'm right in there with everyone else, chopsticks flitting back and forth. More often than not I have my right arm on the table while I'm hunched over my bowl, as though someone were going to try to take it away from me.

I eat like a convict.

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