Adoga in the Hotpot Restaurant

I'm in my favorite restaurant near school, getting a little hotpot of beef soup. If you want rice, you have to go the wooden bucket and serve yourself. You can even sprinkle on some black sesame seeds if you like.

While I am serving myself, I hear a Dad talking to his six year-old daughter in mixed Mandarin and Taiwanese. "Hey, talk to the adoga in English, come on!" he is urging her. He must have already spent a lot of taibi on her English cram school by now. Maybe he wants to see if he's getting a return on his investment. Alas, the little girl is so very Taiwanese, even at six already afraid of losing face, and she doesn't say anything to me.

I turn around after I hear his words and say in Taiwanese, "Wa em hshi adoga. Wa hshi Daiwan leng!"; "I am not a foreigner, I am Taiwanese!"

We have a good laugh and I crouch down and give the little girl a chance to show off for her Daddy. She tells me her name and her age. I look up and it seems that me and the little girl are serving as entertainment for this half of the restaurant.

Everyone is smiling and I head back to my table, where my soup, always too hot for us adoga, is waiting for me.