The following text is taken from Front Magazine, vol. V, no. 3, p. 7 January/February 1994:
It’s January. Another get-together is due. Last year, we met on a weekend of celebrations. Pender Street was blocked off for the parade. So many people and children filled the streets. The explosions and smoke of the firecrackers, the incessant beat of the drums and the brass cymbals, and the live dance! We had not expected such excitement. It gave us something to talk about. Chinese New Year seemed to have started early, we mused.
In the last five or six years, we’ve managed to see each other once a year, always in the new year, in between the first of January and Chinese New Year. And we always agree to visit at one of several cafe-restaurants in Chinatown. After all, who doesn’t enjoy Chinese food, especially Chow Mein?
Most likely, none of us have ventured into Chinatown in months. After spending time eating and talking at the restaurant, we would walk around Chinatown, picking up some fruits or assorted junk foods or just looking, like tourists. The sounds, smells, colours, shapes and textures are strangely familiar and alien at the same time. - Ana Chang