Chinatown

https://www.cbc.ca/amp/1.5907997?__twitter_impression=true

I read the article linked above and processed how I felt. Very sad. As a child, I went to Chinatown every weekend to grocery shop with my mom or grandma, or to hang out at Loong Foong bakery with my dad eating pastries. ( White Sugar Cakes were my fave)  Rain or shine. I’ve ruined many shoes trying to shop with my grandma in the rain, with an umbrella and having people step on my feet because each shop and sidewalk was just so busy. I learned quickly never to wear white runners that I wanted to keep.  We would walk through the stinky alleys as shortcuts to try to avoid the crowds. To save a few minutes, it cost me more shoes and a tolerance to unpleasant odours. 

My mom worked for Koret in Gastown so this area is a big piece of my childhood. As a teen, I hung out with friends eating at Goldstone, buying stationary at Oriental Dragon and taking pictures at Dr. Sun Yat- Sen garden. (the free part, never had the money to go to the official part). I loved shopping in the little boutiques to find edgy and unique clothing (read: black items) to go with my pointy flat shoes.  

The hustle and bustle is gone and it feels like a ghost town. Shells of lost souls wandering around talking to invisible companions. 

I just warned my mom not to go alone yesterday as she is aging and not as aware of her surroundings. I told her to stay close to home and to be careful. We have all read the recent attacks on Asian seniors in the Chinatown of Oakland California which sadly  ended up tragically for one man.  He was someone’s dad, grandfather, uncle, brother and friend.

I visited 2 months ago with my mom after an ultrasound appointment and she wanted to go to the CIBC afterwards. I waited outside the bank while she was queued in a line outside and inside the bank due to covid restrictions. In this span of time outside I felt uneasy, worried and sorrow. Numerous Chinese seniors still shopping and wandering the streets because they live in the  neighborhood and feel more secure  being able to speak Chinese to the remaining shop owners. This is all they know. This is all that’s left. I felt unsafe for them as they shuffled along, some towing little wheeled shopping carts and crossing the streets slowly as if the world will wait for them. Hunched over, and moving with purpose to a specific shop or a doctor’s appointment.  

If my grandma was still alive, she would have taken the bus by herself just to come here and walk in the streets with memories of years past and, perhaps buy some chicken feet to make soup.  

As I walked down Main Street, stopped at Pender and walked back  to Keefer, I looked at every building, pharmacy and herbal shop with a 1985 filter and silently grieved what once was.