An Expedition Into Chinatown

MCHC 1002

Author: gpare

Reflection Paper: Grace Paré

May 19, 2017 / / 0 Comments

When I planned my first trip to Chinatown, I found myself unsure about what places I would go to see. Looking over a few Chinatown travel guide websites, I realized that most of the places suggested were restaurants or more modern dessert spots or specialty stores. I was puzzled about the lack of diversity in this representation, but soon realized that anyone looking to be guided on a visit to Chinatown online was most likely a tourist who would want to be entertained and experience something recognizably Chinese. Having visited Chinatown before this project many times, however, I knew about little cobblestone side streets off of Canal and Bowery that were full of small shops. The online representations were guides for a superficial experience of the neighborhood. It was important to recognize that this was the image that outsiders, such as non-New Yorkers, or non-Chinese people, would get on a first visit. To get the view of a true visitor, I decided to go to some of the more popular and visible sites.

Honestly, I did not enjoy these spots as much as the rave reviews online prepped me to. Munchie’s Paradise, which came to New York in 2000, seemed insipid and overly expensive compared to the street carts I had just passed which offered pounds of fruit for pocket change (Jay, par.3). I could see, however, that if I had come with the expectation only to get something Chinese, I would have been more than satisfied with the store. It was brightly colored; dozens of bins of snacks and candy lined the walls. The candy mostly conformed to the general flavor canon of green tea, red bean, pudding, and milk, that I had experienced innumerable times before in every Asian market. The people in this shop were all clearly from other neighborhoods or even other states. Every single person who was in that store took pictures of the rows of candy on their phones or cameras.

I’ve always had a certain amount of disdain for people who go into a neighborhood trying to get an “authentic” experience. Firstly, a day spent in the neighborhood is definitely not sufficient to get a grasp of the lives of the people who live and work there. Secondly, people seeking to get an “authentic” experience often start with incorrect assumptions of the culture, and expect something exotic, while these people may, in fact, live very similar lives to themselves. Thirdly, I don’t think that a neighborhood should be diminished into an experience, just something to be enjoyed. If one wants to enjoy a place, they should also care about and support the people who make up the neighborhood. This lies in the same vein as the issue with people who support Trump’s deportation laws and wall building, but still want to use Mexican culture when Cinco de Mayo comes around. However, as I had a limited number of trips that I would be able to make to Chinatown, I felt that I would be guilty of some of these offences. I would have to plan day trips that I thought would encompass as much of Chinatown as I could. However, the concept of Chinatown is a difficult one. Would I try to visit as many small businesses as I could? Should I target stores that were everyday stops for a resident there? Or should I focus on the experience of the main customers: the tourists and the young people who came for the trendy restaurants? I resolved to visit a couple of each of these sorts of places. Munchie’s Paradise was my tourist stop, an unnamed bakery and Elizabeth Street Deluxe Market were my everyday stops, and Mahayana Buddhist temple was my attempt to learn more about those who hold tightly to their culture and religion. It was very difficult for me to talk to residents there, because I do not speak Chinese, and most of them do not speak English, and even if they did, they were often irritated or too busy to speak to me.

One of the most common types of businesses in Chinatown is the small bakery. These places often sell lunches in addition to cake and bread, and so have become a regular stop for many Chinese residents and other people who work in the area. I stopped by one of these, and had quite an interesting experience as I tried to explain to the lady at the counter what I wanted. She did not speak English, and there were no signs in English, so the best I could do was point and gesture. Language was certainly one of the biggest setbacks during this entire experience. Without the ability to interview people who were running the places I visited, I certainly missed out a lot on the opportunities to gain insight into their lives and their thoughts on the changes taking place in their own neighborhood.

The visit to the market was chaotic and a little dizzying. The place was packed, and I realized, most acutely, that I did not belong there. I went in to visit, but there was no such thing as a casual visit in this place. The crowd was mostly women, all middle aged or older, who were buying pounds of meat, and huge bunches of leafy green vegetables, perhaps part of a weekly shopping routine. I came in with the intent of seeing a spot that was truly unique in its “Asianness”, and I definitely got what I asked for. I was not the cool calm observer I had imagined myself to be. I was pushed this way and that by the crowd, and I was overwhelmed by the action around me. In the process of going to study people, there is a danger of setting yourself up as a little god, picking and choosing which people you’d like to see that day, and scribbling down little notes of approval or disapproval as you strut through their home. This market certainly put me in my place. There was no pretense of control I could muster. They didn’t care about my interests, and they weren’t interested in what I cared. After a minute or so of spinning about in the crowd, I decided to put away my notebook and become part of it. I pushed my way through and bought some food like I was supposed to. I think I’ve learned that it’s pretty silly to expect to go to a bustling market and stand on the side making little notes. I don’t think that it’s effective to learn about a community just by watching stuff play out in front of you. Anthropology requires the researcher to not only observe, but also participate in the daily activities of the people they study (“Intro to Anthropology”). I couldn’t do this for as long as a real anthropologist would, but just to experience a few minutes along with people who really lived and worked in Chinatown was better than only peering in on them from the outside.

 

Thinking back over the visits I took to Chinatown, I can’t really say whether I’ve had an “authentic” experience or not. I don’t know if that word can ever be used to describe an experience that an outsider takes into a cultural center where they have little knowledge or experience of the lives of the people who really live, work, eat, and learn there. The food I ate may be authentic, and the temple I visited may have been authentic, but my experience was just a superficial scraping of the depth that the Chinese community there lives every day. Now that Chinatown is a destination, and not a “ghetto” like dumping ground for the immigrants that Americans wanted to ignore, much of what is really organic and natural in this neighborhood may disappear, or be banished to little corners of the city, just as all of Asian culture used to be (Lee 422). My hope is that the increased visibility of Asian culture will cause people to become more accepting of all of it, even the parts that might offend Western tastes, sights, and smells, but this is unlikely, given the trends of gentrification that I have seen, as businesses begin to clean themselves up for the White middle class, rather than the White middle class educating themselves on the worth of deep cultural identity.

My visits to Brooklyn Chinatown were made a little bittersweet by this realization. This Chinatown is relatively untouched by gentrification, and I could see that the one in Manhattan could have been like this at one time, more blatantly Chinese, with crazy smells and sounds coming from every corner: old men playing Chinese music on ancient radios as they sold herbal remedies on the sidewalk, women shouting out the prices of the food they were selling, children yelling and running along the street, and grandmas haggling with street vendors. The entire place was like the Elizabeth Street Deluxe Market. As an American born and raised, I was more uncomfortable here, since there was less of a chance of anyone knowing English, and I had no idea what many of the items for sale were. However, I could recognize that this was more of a home to its people. There was no show put on for the uninitiated. While many people believe that immigrants should assimilate to American culture when the live here, I see no possible loss if they don’t. Through exposure to another culture, I gain understanding that people can think and act and live in ways wildly different from my own. There is less value in a community where culture has been stripped to be replaced by cheap commercialism and capitalist overtures to tourists. I want Brooklyn Chinatown to remain what it is, for my sake, just as much as for theirs. 

 

 

 

Works Cited

 

“Introduction to Anthropology”. University of Toronto. 2003. http://individual.utoronto.ca/boyd/anthro4.htm. Date Accessed 19 May 2017.

Jay, Ben. “A Tour of Aji Ichiban, an Asian Snack Paradise in New York”. Serious Eats. n.d. http://sweets.seriouseats.com/2014/02/a-tour-of-aji-ichiban-the-asian-candy-havens-outpost-in-nyc.html. Date Accessed 10 May 2017.

 

Lee, Rose Hum. “The Decline of Chinatowns in the United States”. American Journal of Sociology. vol. 54, no. 5. March 1949. http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/2771160.pdf?refreqid=excelsior%3Aebd01f687f22917b4c8fe80e4f90ea72. Date Accessed 19 May 2017

 

McCarthy, Ciara. “Chinatown is Being Taken Over By Wealthy White Gentrifiers, City Report Says”. Lower East Side Patch. 26 April 2017. https://patch.com/new-york/lower-east-side-chinatown/chinatown-being-taken-over-white-wealthy-gentrifiers-city-report. Date Accessed 10 May 2017.

Field Trip: Chatting Over Ice Cream

May 19, 2017 / / 0 Comments

On my third visit to Chinatown, I was determined to get an interview. I had previously been unsuccessful because of the language barrier that existed between me and all the business owners I had come across. I now planned to find an English speaking visitor and ask them what they thought of the gentrification I had read so much about in my research.

I intentionally decided to visit a tourist attraction in order to ensure that I would find some English speakers. It was a warm day, so I decided to go to the Original Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. The place is a small, slightly dingy establishment sheltered by a yellow awning with green dragon on it.

There’s no seating, but many people stand in or around the store as they eat their ice cream. I paid $5 for a single scoop, which seemed like a lot at the time, but the first bite I took was enough to justify the price. The ice cream is rich and intensely flavorful. The rose lychee scoop I had was exactly what rose and lychee should taste like, but made even better by the thick cream. I just stood in the shop for a bit as I ate it, and scoped out potential interviewees. A couple other customers walked in while I was there, but they seemed in a rush, so I let them pass. Finally, when I began to think that I should get going and try somewhere else, a group of three men came in who joked around a bit with each other and seemed like they were going to hang out there for a bit. I started off with a question about their ice cream, then asked if I could do a quick interview. They obliged.

The group was made up of two White men, Jake and Evan, and one Asian man, John, all within the age range of 26-35. They were coworkers at an office on Mott Street, and they came to Chinatown regularly for lunch. I wasn’t able to get a recording of the interview since they didn’t have too much time, so I quickly asked a couple questions and wrote down paraphrases of their answers after they left.

I first asked them how long they had been visiting Chinatown. I wanted to know if they would have had a chance to observe long term changes in the area. John had come to the neighborhood a lot as a kid, and Jake used to date a girl there, so both had known Chinatown for about 15-20 years. I asked if they had seen any changes, but they were confused by the question, so I specified that I was looking for signs of gentrification.

The guys were puzzled since they “thought this was the only neighborhood not getting gentrified, dude”. They claimed that the only difference they had seen was the increase in tourism along Canal and other main streets. I realized that a lot of the gentrification that was occurring, and that was evident in statistics was not necessarily obvious on the street level. However, as I walked to the train station on my way home, I saw a lot of new businesses that catered to a more modern and less traditional taste: bubble tea spots on ever block, fancy restaurants, bakeries with Western goods and multitudinous tourist souvenir shops. I think the process of gentrification happens  too slowly and steadily in some cases to be obvious. In Williamsburg, the coffee shops with mason jars and fancy roasts may stand out enough from the bodegas to be visible, but in Chinatown, the slow transition of businesses that were already there to cater to white middle class tastes will not be so apparent.

A Field Trip to Three Very Different Places

May 18, 2017 / / 0 Comments

For my first visit to Chinatown, I planned to check out Aji Ichiban (better known as “Munchie’s Paradise”), Deluxe Market on Elizabeth Street, and Mahayana Buddhist Temple. I picked these spots, since the first one is a tourist attraction, the second is an everyday stop for Chinatown residents, and the third is a religious and cultural center, hoping that I’d be able to get a general feel of the different sections of Chinatown life.

Aji Ichiban (Munchie’s Paradise)

Sights

Aji Ichiban is a small store with a glass store front. When I walked in, I was immediately struck by how colorful everything was. There were rows of small bins, about a cubic foot large, lining the left wall, full of dried fruits, such as mango, papaya, kiwi, ginger, melon, and about ten different types of plums. Along the back, there were dried meats and fish. The center of the store had open top bins with wrapped candy, and closed bins with loose candy. These were all sorts of bright, artificial colors, and in all sorts of shapes: sharks, worms, peanuts, bears, bananas. The people in the store were about half Asian and half White. Most of the people were young adults, but there were also some mothers with children. The young adults all had their phones out to take pictures.

Sounds

The cashier and the other woman who worked there mainly spoke Chinese, so I wasn’t able to do an interview with them.  I heard a mix of Chinese and English from the rest of the people in the store. Some of the bins squeaked a bit when they were open- most of them weren’t new. The sounds of the street outside were audible. It was pretty busy despite being a small side street, with both foot traffic and delivery trucks.

Taste

There were little bowls on top of each closed bin (but not the ones with candy in them) that were filled with the chopped up contents of the bin. I tasted most of the dried fruit, and the plums, but I didn’t have the guts to try the fish. Dried fish is more of an Eastern snack. My Korean mom used to try to make me eat it because it’s apparently very healthy for you, but I never did. These bins told me that the store was still directed towards Asian palates, not just the young tourists who came for the green tea and red bean candy.

Elizabeth Street Deluxe Market

Sight

This indoor market is set up like a farmer’s market, with separate counters for all the different types of food it sells. There was a counter for meat, one for fish, one for vegetables, one for fruit and two for prepared foods. The floor was cement that had turned dark grey, and the lights were hanging fluorescents. The place was mostly crowded with middle aged Asian women around the raw food stalls, and a mix of men and women around the prepared food counters. I had to fight my way through the crowd to get to a counter where I bought some sushi rolls and a coconut red bean pudding. The place was visually overwhelming for me, but the other shoppers seemed comfortable as they found their way around through the crowd. They looked at ease, as if this was a normal stop for them. This market probably functions as a daily or weekly shopping stop for Chinatown residents.

Sound

The noise in this market was not incredibly loud, but it was a constant hum of voices and footsteps. I only heard Chinese spoken the entire time I was there. When I tried to speak in English to the cashier, they didn’t respond.

Smell

The strongest smell here was the prepared hot foods at the front of the market. I smelled soy sauce, garlic, and ginger from the steaming buffet. Near the vegetable counter, there was an earthy smell, and the smell of raw meat and fish was evident near the back of the market. The sushi I ate was pretty fresh, so it didn’t smell like much.

Taste

I had a pretty normal serving of sushi: just some salmon rolls. The coconut and red bean pudding was a strange experience, though. Unlike American pudding, which has a loose, custard like consistency, this seemed more like a coconut jello, with sweetened red beans throughout. It wasn’t very sweet, but I enjoyed it.

Mahayana Buddhist Temple

Sight

The exterior of this temple is a normal building front decorated with awnings in the shape of the sloping clay tiles of Chinese temples. The interior, however, is stunning. When I first entered, I was immediately drawn to a shrine on the right, which filled a room about 10′ by 12′. A golden Buddha, only a little smaller than life size sat at the back, and numerous plates of oranges, bottles of oil, and other food items were placed before it. On the left were stairs up to the temple gift shop and a couple offices. When I entered the main temple though an entrance at the back of the front space, I was awed. The ceiling was about three stories high, and at the back of the room was a Buddha statue that, even sitting, was almost twenty feet high. 

The room was covered in gold decoration and red carpet, seats, and curtains. In front of this Buddha, and at the back of this huge room, there were piles of oranges, cups of tea, bakery goods, and bottles of oil set down in offering. Along both sides of the wall were depictions of the life of Prince Siddhartha, the man who became the religious figure Buddha. These depictions were done artistically in metal on wooden boards. While I was there, a few older and middle aged women came in to pray and light incense. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I didn’t try to speak to any of them. This was clearly a sacred and solemn place for them.

Smell

One of the most striking things about the temple besides the magnificence of the visual display was the smell of the incense. This was a heavy perfumed scent, which sort of clouded my mind as I walked around the temple. I am already very sensitive to scents, but I knew that this was particularly strong.

Sound

Other than the prayers that the women were saying, I didn’t hear much. However, when I went up to the gift shop when I was about to leave, there was some droning music, which I took to be a religious song- it sounded similar to the music I had studied in a class before which was sacred Buddhist music.

 

Of all the places I visited, I was most impressed with the temple. The other two stops showed me how businesses serve tourists and the natives of Chinatown, but the temple showed me the enduring culture and religion which remains central in the lives of many residents. As I was leaving the temple, I noticed a wall covered in the names of deceased family members. These were left as prayers for those who had passed away. This temple is a stronghold of Chinese identity that serves the spiritual needs of Chinatown’s residents.

The Tale of Two Chinatowns

April 28, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Coming up out of the Canal Street subway station is an ordeal. After jostling with jaded New Yorkers on the train, you find yourself in what I like to call the “tourist trap”. On your right is a girl in a sundress and a floppy straw hat. She’s in New York with her best friend, who dresses identically. On your left is a Brazilian couple (But you’re not sure; you’re terrible with languages), which continues to pour over a subway map long after leaving the train car. And in front of you is the mother of all tourists: the midwestern family. The mother has at least 8 water bottles strapped to different parts of her body. She’s a hydration machine. The father has a baseball cap, white New Balances, cargo shorts and a camera on a strap around his neck. The kids are sunburnt, sweaty. They’re fighting. Try as you might, you cannot escape this posse, slowly strolling as they gaze with wonder at the gritty authenticity of the Manhattan Underground.
You weren’t ready for this. You never are. But when you emerge from the station, dancing with impatience behind the hydration machine and the very daddish dad, you realize that the neighborhood is. The first thing you see is a gift shop. Next door, there’s another. And next to that, there’s a restaurant advertising all you can eat buffet dinners for the low price of $14.99. This place is a tourist heaven. Everyone in the family can get an “I *heart* NY” tee shirt, a keychain, a fan with a vaguely Chinese pattern, sunglasses, fake jewelry, toys, and millions of other things, then skip on over for a New York Chinese dinner. It’s a perfect set up.
It would be wrong for me to report that the only businesses in Manhattan Chinatown are gift shops and restaurants. There are, of course, vegetable markets, doctors’ offices, tutoring classrooms, herbal shops, and many other places that make it possible for those who live there to survive. However, the majority of these “everyday” stops are on the side streets, removed from the hoards that pour out of the train stations. The businesses that survive on the major streets are ones that cater to tourists: professional shoppers. Further down, towards the Manhattan Bridge entrance, there are a slew of jewelry shops, offering everything from jade statues to engagement rings. Situated along Bowery, this is a perfect mall of expensive souvenirs.
After the gift shops and restaurants of Canal Street, nothing is more shocking than the humble, but bustling economy of the Chinatown in Brooklyn’s Sunset Park. A walk from 68th to 55th Street along this packed avenue reveals a consistent pattern of three sorts of stores: fish and meat markets, vegetable stores, and bakeries. Also strown among these thriving businesses are herbal remedy pharmacies, clothing boutiques, and cosmetic shops. Every single one of these businesses is full, and the crowds are no less intimidating that those in Manhattan, but unlike those diverse masses, the only languages audible are Chinese dialects. During my entire visit, I only came across three people who weren’t Chinese. This Chinatown is full of its own residents — it is a place to live, not a place to visit. The shops do not clean themselves up to become Insta-worthy for visitor. There are goods in cardboard boxes, food on plastic tables and even live fish in styrofoam bins (one of which escaped and briefly flopped on the sidewalk for a few glorious seconds before he was unceremoniously thrown back in). The stuff is cheap. Money flows around at lightning speed as grandmothers buy hunks of beef for dinner, school kids grab some cookies on their way to the tutor, workers on break order fish balls on sticks at street carts, and middle aged women purchase face cream. The stores are for the people who live there. There are no signs of “I *heart* NY” logos anywhere, and even the restaurants advertise their dishes in Chinese.
I am tempted to say that I like the Chinatown on 8th ave better because it’s so “authentic”. It certainly is; there are no facades, no attractions, no money traps. But I fear that my judgement is made with the arrogant assumption of tourism, that I, an outsider, can get a fully real experience of another culture, if I just find a good, unadulterated place to visit. Brooklyn Chinatown does not ask for tourists to come and validate its existence as Manhattan Chinatown does. In the presence of a real, self sufficient place like 8th ave, I feel that my opinion is of little value. There are people who live and make their living there, without any help from Brazilian couples or Midwestern families. I like it more than I like the one in Manhattan, but it doesn’t need me to.

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