Sunday, January 24, 2010

Vancouver Chinatown was like our own little World when I was growing up and it was safe because we all knew each other so I wouldn't hestitate for one moment to go down there. The Chinese community wasn't that large, but large enough, and we had family and friends closeby. I loved to be down there because it was charged with all kinds of energy and excitement. The Streets were always jammed with cars and people running back and forth. Bright neon signs attracted tourists and of course who could forget all the great restaurants down there like Bamboo Terrace, Chungking and Ming's? My Dad had a taxi business and his office was situated right down in the center of it all. His fleet of perhaps 8 automobiles were all black with the words Lee's Taxi on it and they were easy to spot, too easy because wherever I went, a cabdriver who saw me would call into the dispatch office and say "Car 9, your daughter is approaching Main and Hastings. Shall I bring her home now?" It was annoying since I had just left Strathcona School and was on my way to Chinese school but first I had to drop off some library books. I would protest and then would hear my father's distinct voice coming across the cb radio, "It's okay, no need, she's probably going to the library."

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