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Vietnamese restaurant in Jangnim-dong. Kid couldn't really speak Vietnamese, but he could sort of understand me.

"Where's your mom?"

"She's gone," he answered in an accented whisper.

"When will she be back?"

He couldn't answer.

"Where did she go?"

Silence.

"Is there anybody else here?"

He barely shook his head.

After waiting a couple of minutes, I walked out and was maybe ten yards away when I saw a woman going towards the restaurant.

"Are you the owner, sister?"

"Yes."

I followed her back in.

In all likelihood, the kid's half Korean. He looked it. His mom talked to him in Korean.

Walking around Jangnim-dong, I saw at least half a dozen Vietnamese businesses, plus several "Asia Market" selling foreign foods to immigrants. Just like in the West, poorer neighborhoods here tend to have more immigrants.

The restaurant owner had gone to a government office to register for financial assistance [for small businesses hurt by the coronavirus crisis].

With fewer clients, her restaurant had just two dishes today.



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