sun muun

 the door may be closed

defensive syntax on guard

above cold foreign soil

invested chinese swamp

 or blank as a renouncement

barring prejudicial flames

the colour lines were drawn

and yet they are re-crossed

 a single character marks

a half number retreated

to consolations unknown

behind the multilocked door

 perhaps they soon shall pass

more inscrutable as always

but never going very far

from portals so hard won

for all the ancient societies

of the persistent secret orders

will leak a welcome of sorts

to those who can open doors

down market alley...

The enigmatic riddle that is Vancouver's Chinatown has of late been unraveling in a decidedly un-chinese turn - the invisible knots of clandestine activities, the blank doors of self-protectionist secret dens, the survival commerce of basic needs, the resourceful stealth of a long marginalized and ill-treated race have all been slowly dissolving in the face of changing demographics and rising property value.
The Chinatown of old that had bordered on a swamp and been ghettoized in hostile restriction to a few square blocks grew inwards and upwards in ways that slyly mocked the building bylaws - what is not seen did not exist was the modus operandi.
Over a hundred years since its beginnings, while revealing a quaint and half-heartedly presentable face to tourists, there are still hidden layers to be found even as erosion due to age and neglect has continued. One such esoteric zone has long been obscured by a loss of customers and the lack of will to take it back from the drug dealers and addicts who scuttle in the shadows.
Market Alley was once a thriving collusion of a laneway between East Pender and East Hastings Streets and stretching two blocks from Carrall Street to Main Street, comprising of opium factories [the entrance of one such was at No. 34], gambling dens, covert restaurants, and assorted tinsmiths, tailors and shoemakers.
I recently joined a walking tour of this still grimy yet curious alley to learn more about Chinatown's guarded history and below are some of what caught my excitable savage eye [albeit in the safety of a group]...

[the smidgen of leftover green paint indicates where the infamous Green Door Restaurant was located - the Green Door had been a gambling den that also fed its denizens and eventually became a cheap and popular insider's chinese restaurant for the young and the stomach-hardy in the 1960's-80's]

[The Chinatown walking tour was led by John Atkin through the Vancouver Heritage Foundation]

springwall

immutable stillness leaning on a century...
                 emotive veils of fading jade tears...
                                come spring, this pale spring, to shanghai alley...

sinosigns

 be they painted over...

brushed onto stone...

 gilded onto glass...

 affixed onto walls...

scripted horizontally or vertically,
these signs in Chinatown have no need of english translations to convey the character of the sites they adorn...

*this should be an auspicious post to announce the release of the first album of my son Enzio's band Half Chinese..."We were Pretending to be" (Sad Games Records, 2012)

sun yat sen:: upspotting

a classical chinese garden enclosed by high white walls crouches on the edges of Vancouver's Chinatown and the downtown eastside - an intrepid tourist destination to be sure, but more so a serene gracenote in this gritty neighbourhood, an elemental sanctuary from the burgeoning urban dissonance, a reined in tranquil refuge for asian sensibilities...

on one very cold afternoon a week after all the chinese new year celebrations were over, I felt the urge to capture some quiet non-festive pieces of traditional chinese heritage within this verdant landscaped and architectural formulaic courtyard - I panned down for the water reflection series in the previous posting and I glimpsed upwards for this one...

latching onto structural details that are weathering in the most artful fashion - the worn mossy rooftiles softly presenting the pale pink blooms of an early blossoming cherry, the staccato splashes of providential reds in a patinaed palette of greys and whites, the calligraphic web of bare branches against the signage of intricate chinese characters, and the pre-spring budding in the warmth of the peeling red lacquered gateway...

water dragon leapyear

The old man from Shao-ling,

weeping inwardly,

Slips out by stealth in Spring

and walks by Serpentine,

 

And on its riverside

sees the locked Palaces,

Young willows and new reeds

all green for nobody;

 

Where Rainbow Banners once

went through South Gardens,

Gardens and all therein

with merry faces:

 

Where limpid River Wei's

waters flow Eastward,

One goes, the other stays

 and has no tidings:

 

Though Pity, all our hours,

weeping remembers,

These waters and these flowers

remain as ever;

[selected verses from "Lament by the Riverside" by Tu Fu (A.D. 712-770) Translated by Arthur Cooper, 1973]

softspring

 hope springs eternal...

tosi time toss

 Sandwiched between the Chinatown cacophony of East Georgia and Keefer Street on Main Street sprawls the cavernous premises of the nostalgically real italiano deli and import foodstore of TOSI and Company...

I have never known of its existence until walking by the other day and noticing the grimy and haphazard window display - or rather, non-display of boxes and cans with seriously faded labels and dusty plastic canisters! 

I had to ring a bell to be let in and I walked into a murky time warped chamber filled with an epicurean jumble of a more peasanty persuasion from another era - I don't believe the shelves and counter tops have changed much since like about 1910!

In a Vancouver that is constantly in flux and nestled in a Chinatown that is losing its original lustre, this throw-back of an authentic italian pioneer enterprise was an unexpected and oddly delightful stumbled upon discovery for someone who has only lived here for over 30 years!

[when we were waiting to pay for a package of tagliatelle, the character from central casting behind the counter was speaking in italian on the telephone to Signore Tosi Jr. himself to ask for instructions about when to plant the chicory seeds that the customer ahead of us was buying...

needless to say, it was slightly jarring to walk out the door of this time-[and scent]-muddled yet shabbily atmospheric food emporium of the TOSI family and be right back in Vancouver Chinatown again!]

chinatown remains

It has been much too long since I have been down to Vancouver's Chinatown and really take notice of the upscale changes going on as well as sadly, what is still barely clinging on...

The establishment of well-funded vanity projects in art galleries, stylish lounges and uptown priced

cuisine nouvelle-chinoise contrasts even more starkly with what remains of a once bustling enclave of working-class chinese culture and commerce...

On a late winter afternoon, as the sun dips low behind the buildings and the street lamps begin to turn on, I walk the few blocks of East Georgia Street, Keefer Street and East Pender Street where the majority of the shoppers are still Asian but just not as unrepentantly chic in dress as the few non-Asians making their way to be seen in the uplifted high brow cool spots...