During my time in Taipei working for Conoco Taiwan, my three sisters and the husband of one of them came over for a 10-day tour of the island, having read my letters and seen my photographs sent home at regular intervals.
Tour over and back in Taipei, I took them to downtown 中華路 Zhōnghuá Lù (Chung Hwa Road), their Oxford Street, for the shops and eateries.
The Singaporean way of eating, especially as a group, is to go to a food court (an agglomeration of food stalls gathered under one roof, replacing the roadside stalls of the old days, spread out and around), find a table anywhere, then go and order your own dishes (which will be delivered to you) if you have special preferences not shared by the others. This way, you can enjoy each other’s company without having to compromise on the food.
My plan for the night out on Chung Hwa Road was to eat a bit of food, then venture forth for some shop browsing, then eat a bit more food, then more browsing.
It was 5pm. We walked into a dumpling place — only because it happened to be the first one on our route. It was empty. We sat down.
The man came round, beaming a warm welcome. I ordered 25 dumplings.
He repeated my order, scribbling it down on his pad, “That’ll be 25 dumplings each, for five people.”
I corrected him, “No, no, not 25 dumplings each — 25 dumplings in total.”
He was horrified, “But that’s not enough. That’s only five dumplings per person!”
I said, “Yes, we only want a snack.”
The big smile disappeared. The pen and pad went into his apron pouch.
He said, “I’m not going to start my stove just for 25 dumplings. You can go somewhere else for your snack!”
I’d never been thrown out of an eatery before or since.
(Taipei, 1976)
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