Every now and then when I am going about my normal business in Hong Kong, I am approached by students armed with notebooks and voice recorders.
They politely and hesitantly enquire whether they can ask me a few questions in English, to assist them with their studies. No, they don’t want to know my opinion on the importance of patriotism, or the limited availability of decent cheese in Hong Kong, but instead want to know where I live, how long I have lived there, and how often I visit the shopping centre where we are all standing. I give them suitably bland replies, they giggle a bit and thank me for my time, and it’s all finished.
All part of life’s rich tapestry, I suppose.
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