Peoples Park (Seward Park), Essex at East Broadway, 8:40am, T’ai Chi Chuan
ShuangLiu Zhong Xue, Chengdu, PRC
Working in Chinatown has caused me to miss China more than ever. It has also reminded me of how grateful I am to live in a city with a massive Chinese population. Teaching English and art on Henry Street, I’ve learned more about the community south of Canal Street than I ever imagined knowing. These families have migrated mostly from Guangzhou, Fujian and Sichuan. They own restaurants that serve, on Henry Street alone, chang fan for $1.50, steamed in a flat file, cooked to order. Or jiaozi, 5 pieces for $1.00 and suan la tang for $1.00. They are happy to speak Mandarin and their spirits contribute significantly to the peaceful energy south of Canal Street. If I had to live in Manhattan, I would live right here. My Mandarin would get stellar. I’d probably take up the T’ai chi. I’ve already befriended a phenomenal shoemaker whose kept her home on Henry Street for the past two years. After three visits to her shop, we’re friends. I’m plotting my eventual move, and have already made significant improvements on my menu-reading abilities.
My American-Chinese students, my huaren, remind me so much of my students at ShuangLiu. They are growing up in a traditionally Chinese environment, with seemingly minimal increases in freedom by virtue of living in the United States. Many of them are the happiest people I know. They go to school six or seven days a week. They know they should be intelligent. They love computer games, and talking about Chinese culture. They bring wonderfully smelly foods to class, and for the moment, when they aren’t driving me nuts, seeing them is the best way I’ve found to spend my weekends, and ruffle up my Chinese feathers and believe, for a moment, that I’m back in China, my favorite place to be.
