Okay, okay I can't hold out any longer, I tried to resist but I am going to have to blog about taking a walk down the lane of dead dripping ducks. Yes I'm talking about Little Bourke Street's Chinatown crossing two blocks from Russell to Swanston. I tried to hold out for so long commenting on this famous stretch of Asian eateries because, um, it all seems a bit touristy to me.
When I visited Melbourne in March I was delighted as a first timer by the dedicated lane showcasing the varieties of Asian culinary delights. The entranceway at each intersection is marked by giant temple gates. Equally giant four balloon-bulb lamps pave the walk through a narrow, crowded lane of gold, red and royal blue restaurant frontages. It is definitely colourful, it is impressive in scale, and to someone who had never been in a dedicated Chinatown before, it was novel. I sampled my first and only plate of Thai crocodile and kangaroo meats in Chinatown. Neither really did it for me, the one was anaemic and chewy and the other was gamey tasting.
This time round Chinatown has lost its novelty and now seems a bit, well – fake. It seems to be the street put on for tourists to show them how revered the Asian culture is. It is frequented by young, urban professional Asians and tourists, both of which have the money to eat in city priced restaurants. As a vegetarian there is not really much on offer for me in Chinatown so I have generally given it a miss.
I have this problem in most Asian eateries and forgo the vegetarian commitment if I choose to dine Chinese or Japanese. Thai and Indonesian I can usually find something on the menu but forget asking a yum cha waiter if this is this vegetable? Three repetitions later my question receives a nod that less than convinces me. The occasional excellent sushi train or yum cha however is worth the meat lapse to experience.
But I fail to see why Chinatown should be so glitzy when the other cultural precincts are much more community developed and inhabited. I stumbled upon Victoria Street one day and this is the real Chinese area of town. This is where the pungent shop markets are. This is where the junky two dollar shops selling flashing toys, nodding and waving gold Luck Cats and red tai chi fans. This is where the bakeries with steam buns, pork floss, sweet green tea and purple taro breads are. This is where the shriveled old people, the real people, shop with trundlers.
Victoria Street is where a fight breaks out because a young man has pinched a mandarin off a fruit stall. The tiny old female stall keeper chases him up the street lashing out to swat him as she snatches the mandarin back. Fearless and wily stall holder one, sour-faced youth, nil. This sort of thing doesn't happen in Chinatown. Chinatown is full of narcissistic youths having their hair crimped in the most bizarre and expensive spiky styles. What is with that?!
Okay so if I feel this way about Chinatown I hear you ask, then why have I chosen now to comment. Well, I guess it is because it is an icon and far be it for me to dismiss it just because I am looking for a more down to earth and real Melbourne culture. The culture of the Asian youth is very real and that is other reason I choose now to comment.
I am staying in a hostel near the RMIT and University precincts so I am living the Asian youth culture at the moment. In a dorm room of six, I share it with four Taiwanese girls and understand what it is like to be a minority not understanding a word that is said. There is laughter and conversation happening in my room that I am not invited to take part in. I was first to check in so introduced myself to each new room mate as they arrived but once outnumbered, I became invisible as the conversation crosses through me in the middle bunk.
I don't really mind as I have plenty to do of my own but I have not gotten to know these room mates as I did those in the other hostel and most of them did not speak English as their first language either. I have always said that I feel disadvantaged being an English speaker because it is not necessary for me to learn a language other than my own to communicate almost everywhere in the world. All of the travelers I have met, French, Dutch, German, Korean, Japanese, Danish, have all shared a common language with which we can all communicate and hold conversations to get to know each other. That language is English. My Taiwanese room mates here speak English as well but they have no desire to communicate with me as the multi-cultural mix of room mates at The Nunnery did. This is a single culture room. It doesn't bother me but it is sad that I am not getting to know these people as I did the others. I have tried to start conversations but they go nowhere because when faced with chatting easily with each other in their own language or concentrating on conversation with me, I lose.
However there is also another, sadder aspect of youth culture at work here in the dorm. Victoria Hall is set up for budget hotel or long-term dorm accommodation. It is very neat and new and well managed. Each bunk has its own large locker with a shelf on the outside beside the bed, two individual power points and a dimming reading light. This means that the main light can be switched out for people to sleep while those wanting to read, can. The interesting thing is that it is a nightly ritual for everyone except myself to plug earphones into their laptops in order to watch movies till the wee small hours of the morning. I am isolated by language, the others freely isolate themselves with popular entertainment. Is our world really becoming so insular?
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