My feet have contentedly trotted the pavement in Chinatown for over forty-years. As a little girl, the car ride from Brooklyn on Sundays initially meant scrumptious food. When my parents traded Brooklyn for the suburbs of Rockland County, we would still find time to make the trek and fill our bellies. Because I was so young, I didn't fully comprehend the fullness of Chinatown. As I grew into my adolescent years I became interested in different things than my peers.By the time I reached my late teens, I had been a vegetarian for years, had become exposed to Eastern healing and had desired a more down to earth life style. One so different than my materialistic upbringing and consumer driven home town. It was in Chinatown that I found the things that suited my lifestyle and as often as I could I would find myself there.
My feet wore Chinese slippers for years (I eventually found my own tribe and all our feet were housed this way); I learned about some of the herbs and tinctures and they became part of my medicinal stash. For years, I only ate with chopsticks. Oh, how I wish I had a camera to photograph the look on my nice Jewish mother's face when we would go to eat out at one of Rockland's finer establishments only to have me pull out my chopsticks when our meals arrived! When I moved out on my own, I went to the basement of one of my favorite shops to purchase bowls and mugs (I preferred bowls to plates.) When I eventually move to Arizona for college, I packed them all with me. Today, my girls eat out of some of those same bowls I purchased decades ago.
Because I had long traded spareribs for tofu, I especially loved to eat at Vegetarian Paradise or around the corner at House of Vegetarian. One of the things I have always missed living so far away was their yummy entrees of roast 'duck' and lemon 'chicken'. Wherever I have lived outside of New York, I have searched in vain for something even remotely similar.
Mostly though, I enjoy, thoroughly enjoy, just walking along the jam packed streets. And this past week, when I had to go back East for the funeral of my beloved Uncle, I was fortunate to be able to take a few hours for my feet to hit the concrete in Chinatown.
At some point, as I instinctively found my way to my favorite old haunts, I realized I was smiling. I stopped and took in a deep breath. The sun was shining down on my face and the warm weather was perfect and in that moment I was happy. I felt peaceful. I was content. Who would of thought, that after all these decades, that little corner of Manhattan would bring me that?
