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Yes, New York has its Chinatown, where tourists visit searching authentic Chinese food. But during a recent visit to New York, I accidentally discovered a secret Chinatown. In Flushing (Queens), there are no red arches and almost no visible tourists.
Almost everyone on the street is Asian. Almost all of the stores are Asian. Almost all of the signs are written in Asian languages. As Caucasians, we felt comfortable walking around. But we were the odd ones out. The services there were directed to the local Asian restaurants.
I wanted to find some Chinese baby pants that have the slit in them so a child can bend over, go to the bathroom, and go on with their playing. When I went into stores and asked where I could find a place selling baby clothes, I was directed to Children’s Place or Macy’s. They seemed to just assume I was lost there, that I couldn’t possibly be looking for Asian clothes.
“I’m looking for Chinese baby pants,” I’d say.
When I did finally find a Korean store that sold baby clothes, they showed me a pair of Guess jeans, with snaps down the legs. No authentic slits for me.
What brought us to Flushing was the raving reviews I saw online for Joe’s Shanghai Restaurant. I was looking for delicious ethnic food, I wanted to bring dinner to a friend who had just had a baby, and the descriptions of the steamed dumplings were irresistible.
Good thing we called ahead and ordered takeout, because the hole-in-the-wall restaurant was packed, and then some. Our order was ready at the counter though, so after elbowing through the crowd waiting to get in, I could pay and leave quickly.
I think the dumplings would have been even more delicious fresh at the table. But they were still wonderful – the dough just the right firmness, the pork sweet and meaty. The garlic eggplant was also especially good, with the eggplant slices just the right texture.
Flushing is accessible by subway. It’s the last stop on the purple line and Joe’s is walkable from the subway station. There is also a municipal lot that allows three-hour parking on the lower level and 12 hours on the upper level. This fills up quickly on the weekends though, so get there early.
I wish I lived where I could get food like Joe’s on a whim. Since I don’t, I’ll have to wait until my next trip to New York to enjoy the spices and flavors.
Showing posts with label Chinatown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinatown. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Two Days in San Francisco
On our first day in San Francisco, I took River out for the morning. We walked from our hotel (La Luna Inn, a comfortable and good value place, with easy access to public transport) about a mile down Lombard street, to the cable car stop.
On the way we had lunch at an organic café called Lettus. I overheard one patron say that people come from all over to eat at this café. I thought it was amazing, both healthy and delicious. As I enjoyed my grilled chicken sandwich on a wheat bun, mixed greens with champagne vinaigrette and a mango smoothie, I wished I had more time in San Francisco so that I could sample more of the wide culinary smorgasbord.
While eating, I struck up a conversation with the man next to me. Originally from Germany, he’d owned a bicycle shop in the neighborhood in the 1970’s. He now lives across the bay, where he says it is warmer and a bit cheaper. It surprised me how easy it was to converse with a stranger over lunch and I wished that happened more often out east. I enjoyed listening to his take on life in San Francisco.
After lunch, River and I continued on toward the cable car. A stroller is a handy thing, I learned, when there are two adults available to help out, but it is not an easy thing to handle alone. On the way, River became hungry and upset. I didn’t see any cafes in the area, so I stopped in a hotel lobby to feed him and luckily, no one kicked us out. When he finished, we continued on, and we walked up a very steep hill for about three blocks. It was so steep I feared letting go of the stroller. If I did, it would roll at high speed back down the hill and zip into oncoming traffic. So I held on tight and walked slowly. We reached the top, at the intersection of Hyde and Lombard streets. There began what is called the world’s crookedest street,” a downhill street that curves back and forth without any clear reason. From such a high vantage point there were beautiful views of the bay, of the city, and of the streetcars puffing up the hill.
Our plan was to catch the streetcar and travel on it across town, then continue on to the café where I planned to meet a friend. Only upon seeing several full streetcars approach and leave did I realize it was very unlikely that I’d be able to lift River, the stroller, my backpack, and the carrier onto the streetcar, find a seat and be able to buy a ticket, especially since one had to ascend steps to get on. I was going to try until River started crying again. Then I knew it was impossible. I’d become what I’d swore I’d never be – the person who carries too much baby junk around. I had so much it made me immobile and I learned my lesson.
Unable to get on the cable car, we headed back down hill to go to the nearest bus stop. This hill was equally steep, at least a 60 degree angle. But this time it was downhill, which was even harder. Should the weight of the stroller pull me forward too fall, I could lose my grip and the stroller would roll. I could see the busy street a few blocks down where the runaway stroller would crash into oncoming traffic. I wasn’t reassured to see a sign for parked cars that read “Prevent Runaways.” It told drivers to turn their wheels in and use the emergency brake.
I hung on for life and moved with baby steps, my quads bent and flexed as though I was skiing. We made it safely to the bottom and I managed to lift the stroller onto the bus.
“You have to take the stroller apart,” the driver told me when I boarded.
“OK,” I said. “I’ll do it as soon as I sit down.”
I plopped down somewhere near the front, next to a woman with silver hair. She was intrigued by the little hands she could see moving under the sunshade and began to ask about River. When I started to take the stroller apart, she told me not to.
“You’ll have two things to carry then,” she said.
“But the bus driver doesn’t like it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “There is a lot of tension right now between the drivers and the public. There have been a lot of complaints about poor customer services. There are even videos of drivers closing doors on people and racking up all kinds of violations. But because they have a very strong union, they haven’t been able to get rid of anyone yet. But now, with all the pressure, the drivers are on edge. So just tell him you are doing your best,” she said.
I appreciated her friendliness and her support. She went on to tell me about her life in San Francisco. That was the second stranger to have an extended conversation with me in just the few hours I’d been out in the city. I liked the openness and friendliness very much. However, for us at least, it seems more like a nice place to visit than a place to consider living, due to the high cost of real estate and what people said were not very good public schools.
After meeting a friend for coffee, where we learned more about the local lifestyle, we had dinner at a fancy restaurant on the Fisherman’s Wharf, where we had tender sea bass fresh from the ocean.
On our second day, I decided to take a walking tour of Chinatown. My tour guide lived in Chinatown for 22 years, so she was able to offer a personal perspective that helped convey what the local life and culture were like. With River strapped to my chest, I walked through alleyways, into shops and temples and down streets packed with Chinese immigrants, a small little world onto itself.
On the way we had lunch at an organic café called Lettus. I overheard one patron say that people come from all over to eat at this café. I thought it was amazing, both healthy and delicious. As I enjoyed my grilled chicken sandwich on a wheat bun, mixed greens with champagne vinaigrette and a mango smoothie, I wished I had more time in San Francisco so that I could sample more of the wide culinary smorgasbord.
While eating, I struck up a conversation with the man next to me. Originally from Germany, he’d owned a bicycle shop in the neighborhood in the 1970’s. He now lives across the bay, where he says it is warmer and a bit cheaper. It surprised me how easy it was to converse with a stranger over lunch and I wished that happened more often out east. I enjoyed listening to his take on life in San Francisco.
After lunch, River and I continued on toward the cable car. A stroller is a handy thing, I learned, when there are two adults available to help out, but it is not an easy thing to handle alone. On the way, River became hungry and upset. I didn’t see any cafes in the area, so I stopped in a hotel lobby to feed him and luckily, no one kicked us out. When he finished, we continued on, and we walked up a very steep hill for about three blocks. It was so steep I feared letting go of the stroller. If I did, it would roll at high speed back down the hill and zip into oncoming traffic. So I held on tight and walked slowly. We reached the top, at the intersection of Hyde and Lombard streets. There began what is called the world’s crookedest street,” a downhill street that curves back and forth without any clear reason. From such a high vantage point there were beautiful views of the bay, of the city, and of the streetcars puffing up the hill.
Our plan was to catch the streetcar and travel on it across town, then continue on to the café where I planned to meet a friend. Only upon seeing several full streetcars approach and leave did I realize it was very unlikely that I’d be able to lift River, the stroller, my backpack, and the carrier onto the streetcar, find a seat and be able to buy a ticket, especially since one had to ascend steps to get on. I was going to try until River started crying again. Then I knew it was impossible. I’d become what I’d swore I’d never be – the person who carries too much baby junk around. I had so much it made me immobile and I learned my lesson.
Unable to get on the cable car, we headed back down hill to go to the nearest bus stop. This hill was equally steep, at least a 60 degree angle. But this time it was downhill, which was even harder. Should the weight of the stroller pull me forward too fall, I could lose my grip and the stroller would roll. I could see the busy street a few blocks down where the runaway stroller would crash into oncoming traffic. I wasn’t reassured to see a sign for parked cars that read “Prevent Runaways.” It told drivers to turn their wheels in and use the emergency brake.
I hung on for life and moved with baby steps, my quads bent and flexed as though I was skiing. We made it safely to the bottom and I managed to lift the stroller onto the bus.
“You have to take the stroller apart,” the driver told me when I boarded.
“OK,” I said. “I’ll do it as soon as I sit down.”
I plopped down somewhere near the front, next to a woman with silver hair. She was intrigued by the little hands she could see moving under the sunshade and began to ask about River. When I started to take the stroller apart, she told me not to.
“You’ll have two things to carry then,” she said.
“But the bus driver doesn’t like it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “There is a lot of tension right now between the drivers and the public. There have been a lot of complaints about poor customer services. There are even videos of drivers closing doors on people and racking up all kinds of violations. But because they have a very strong union, they haven’t been able to get rid of anyone yet. But now, with all the pressure, the drivers are on edge. So just tell him you are doing your best,” she said.
I appreciated her friendliness and her support. She went on to tell me about her life in San Francisco. That was the second stranger to have an extended conversation with me in just the few hours I’d been out in the city. I liked the openness and friendliness very much. However, for us at least, it seems more like a nice place to visit than a place to consider living, due to the high cost of real estate and what people said were not very good public schools.
After meeting a friend for coffee, where we learned more about the local lifestyle, we had dinner at a fancy restaurant on the Fisherman’s Wharf, where we had tender sea bass fresh from the ocean.
On our second day, I decided to take a walking tour of Chinatown. My tour guide lived in Chinatown for 22 years, so she was able to offer a personal perspective that helped convey what the local life and culture were like. With River strapped to my chest, I walked through alleyways, into shops and temples and down streets packed with Chinese immigrants, a small little world onto itself.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Portland
We didn’t see or do all that much today, but somehow finished up the day tired anyway. My first impressions of Portland are a little vague. I don’t feel like I got a good sense of it. I see it as working class, affordable, with quite a few unique characters and people that are friendly, but don’t come across as quite as happy as those we met in Seattle. Nevertheless, everyone I spoke to so far loves living here.
I started out my day meeting a couple of former classmates for lunch and hearing about their experiences living and working in the city. Neither is from Portland, both seem to be happy living here. Then we drove into the downtown area, where we first stopped at Powell’s books. It’s a city landmark and giant bookstore, with shelves upon shelves of new and used books on every conceivable topic. I walked through the store and was consumed by a desire to read. Seeing so many books just reminded me of how many of them I haven’t read. I longed for long, empty afternoons during which I could read. I’ve had very little time to read since River arrived. The small patches of time I get to myself go quickly to exercise, writing, working, or getting things done. Powells also had an amazing collection of audiobooks and that reminded me that I can listen to books on CD, even if I can’t read the paper versions as much as I’d like.
We strolled through the Chinatown/Old Town area. Apparently, it’s not one of the best areas of town. But for a not-so-good neighborhood, it was much less threatening than the bad parts of other cities. We walked through with a baby stroller. While we did come across some odd characters, we never felt really uncomfortable.
We happened across a Chinese garden and decided to take a look. After paying the $7 per person admission and being instructed to turn off our cell phone, we walked into a surprising oasis of calm and tranquility in the middle of the city. The roar of a waterfall drowned out the sound of traffic. The sweet smell fresh plants pleasantly perfumed the air. The architecture and the furniture seemed genuine, as though we’d entered a small town and quiet secluded garden in China. A small tea shop at the back of the garden sold tea flights, samples of some of the many varieties on offer.
We walked briefly along the waterfront, where a path runs alongside the river, offering views of a giant steel bridge and of the city. It was busy with bikers and joggers, even in the early evening. We saw two women and a young girl there who appeared to be homeless. I felt so sorry for the ragged young girl, that as a child she was denied the security and warmth of a home and stable family.
In the evening, we ate a delicious, healthy, homemade dinner and chatted some more with our friends. So far, I’ve enjoyed the time spent in my friends’ coy and funky house than I have the city itself. But tomorrow we’ll have a local friend in the car with us who can hopefully guide us to the main attractions. So far, I find it a nice enough place, but haven’t fallen in love with it.
I started out my day meeting a couple of former classmates for lunch and hearing about their experiences living and working in the city. Neither is from Portland, both seem to be happy living here. Then we drove into the downtown area, where we first stopped at Powell’s books. It’s a city landmark and giant bookstore, with shelves upon shelves of new and used books on every conceivable topic. I walked through the store and was consumed by a desire to read. Seeing so many books just reminded me of how many of them I haven’t read. I longed for long, empty afternoons during which I could read. I’ve had very little time to read since River arrived. The small patches of time I get to myself go quickly to exercise, writing, working, or getting things done. Powells also had an amazing collection of audiobooks and that reminded me that I can listen to books on CD, even if I can’t read the paper versions as much as I’d like.
We strolled through the Chinatown/Old Town area. Apparently, it’s not one of the best areas of town. But for a not-so-good neighborhood, it was much less threatening than the bad parts of other cities. We walked through with a baby stroller. While we did come across some odd characters, we never felt really uncomfortable.
We happened across a Chinese garden and decided to take a look. After paying the $7 per person admission and being instructed to turn off our cell phone, we walked into a surprising oasis of calm and tranquility in the middle of the city. The roar of a waterfall drowned out the sound of traffic. The sweet smell fresh plants pleasantly perfumed the air. The architecture and the furniture seemed genuine, as though we’d entered a small town and quiet secluded garden in China. A small tea shop at the back of the garden sold tea flights, samples of some of the many varieties on offer.
We walked briefly along the waterfront, where a path runs alongside the river, offering views of a giant steel bridge and of the city. It was busy with bikers and joggers, even in the early evening. We saw two women and a young girl there who appeared to be homeless. I felt so sorry for the ragged young girl, that as a child she was denied the security and warmth of a home and stable family.
In the evening, we ate a delicious, healthy, homemade dinner and chatted some more with our friends. So far, I’ve enjoyed the time spent in my friends’ coy and funky house than I have the city itself. But tomorrow we’ll have a local friend in the car with us who can hopefully guide us to the main attractions. So far, I find it a nice enough place, but haven’t fallen in love with it.
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