Culture Shock Re-Visiting Apartment 3A - Part 2 of 2

I pretty much expected that someone would open the door and yell at us to "go away".  And even if it were said in Chinese, I think I would have gotten the drift...and if THAT were the case, I would have humbly apologized for the intrusion and walked away.

But quite the opposite happened.  The woman opened the door and beckoned us to 'come on in' with her hand and her smile.  I explained again that I used to live there and the teenage boy translated.  She led us into the apartment, and the teenage boy and the toddler followed close by.  When I lived there, back in the 70's, the first room was a large combination - living room/kitchen, and we had enough room for a wall unit, 19-inch television, table with three chairs, my grandmother's reading chair, and a set of drawers.

Now, right smack in the middle of the large room was erected an "extra room", which looked like a large box made out of sheetrock.  It cut the size of the room to such an extent that the only thing that fit inside the kitchen area was a small table upon which sat plates of still-uncooked meats and vegetables.

The woman opened the door to this haphazardly placed "extra room", and we could see it had bunk beds inside and was being used for sleeping quarters.  Then we saw that the small bedroom that my brother used to sleep in also had a set of bunk beds, and up sat a middle-aged man who was resting on the top bunk.  He seemed to understand what was going on, and to explain my presence in his home further, I mentioned that the name on his mailbox downstairs of "DeLorenzo" was me.

On the bottom bunk sat a small girl of about 7 or 8.  As way of example, I pointed to the child and said something to the effect that when I was HER age, I lived there with my brother and grandmother.  The man smiled and nodded as if he completely understood.  The other bedroom which was mine and my grandmother's was closed and I wasn't about to gesture to the woman to open that one as well.  Since this room was slightly larger than the other, I can only assume there were multiple bunk beds in there, also.

Feeling very lucky and grateful to have been given the "tour" of my old apartment, I happily proceeded to exit the family's home, thanking them the whole way out.

I left with mixed feelings about seeing the present-day apartment where I grew up.  Happily nostalgic in a way, and also shocked to see how this family is living.  At first I felt kind of sad for them, but then realized that they seemed so happy and gracious that they probably moved to this country from much worse circumstances, in search for a better life.  I wish them all the best in their pursuit.

  

Culture Shock Re-Visiting Apartment 3A - Part 1 of 2

The plan this past Saturday was to meet up with my childhood friend, Rhonda, on the L.E.S. (lower east side of Manhattan), where we both grew up, and she still lives, to take some pictures, catch up on what's going on in our lives, and grab some soup dumplings at our favorite Chinese Restaurant, Joe's Shanghai, on Pell Street.

Pell Street, Chinatown, N.Y.C.

I suggested we meet in front of 93 Madison Street - the building I grew up in.  (If you haven't already read "Tenement Life", Parts 1 and 2, now would be a good time, for some background info.)

http://www.positivelygina.blogspot.com/2012/06/tenement-life-part-1.html

http://www.positivelygina.blogspot.com/2012/06/tenement-life-part-2.html

Rhonda, of course, was right in front of the building when I arrived.  One good habit we both share is always being on time...lol.  It was great to be back in the old neighborhood for a carefree day of walking, chatting, and anticipated eating.

I wanted to go into my old building just to take a look, and Rhonda backed me up and said we should go in.  The outside door was locked, but within a minute or two, a family went into the building with their keys, and we followed close behind and got in.

93 Madison Street

We headed down the small hallway to the mailboxes on the left wall.  I couldn't believe my eyes, and Rhonda was also mystified, because my grandmother's NAME was still on the mailbox of my old apartment - 3A.  I left that apartment when I was 18 or 19, and my grandmother passed away in 1990!

"DELORENZO" still there, after 22 years!

Even the black marker writings of "3A", and "DeLorenzo" were in my grandmother's handwriting.  At first I was upset, but then I realized that my grandmother, Anna, is really leaving her legacy in this building, in a way...lol.  
Even stranger was the fact that all 17 of the boxes were unlocked and seemingly unused. 

The small and narrow ground -floor hall of the building was in shambles.  It was dirty and grimy, and the small area underneath the stair-well was loaded with discarded papers, boxes, brooms, mops and rags.  Memories floated around inside my head of all the times I hung out down in that lobby with my boyfriend, for "5 more minutes" of freedom before I had to go upstairs and back to "prison".  
It was much cleaner and better-kept back then, though.  Why is it that things always seem to be worse when you check back many years later, and never better? 

I thought it would be a good idea to make the climb up to the third floor where my apartment was, and Rhonda agreed that we should.  The stairs were covered with ugly, bumpy metal treads that click clacked with every step.  More memories of flying down those steps, two or three at a time, jumping, even, just to get outside or get an "absent note" out of the mailbox before my grandmother got to it.  

One apartment door we noticed on the second floor had an extra gate/door installed on TOP of the regular apartment door, which seemed like a definite fire-hazard to me.  There were hand-written signs posted in Chinese, and the landings looked like they hadn't been mopped in ages.

Hallway of 93 Madison Street, leading outside

We got up to the third floor, both of us huffing and puffing for air, and approached the door of Apartment 3A.  Directly above the door were several colorful red and yellow Chinese wall hangings, which I assumed stood for "Good Luck" or something similar.  I came this far, so I figured I'd at least try to see if the present tenants would let us in for a look around.

Rhonda gave a good rap on the door and a woman inside shouted something in Chinese...(who is it?)  Unfortunately, we couldn't reply in Chinese, so we just knocked again a couple of more times.  A teenage boy opened the door, with an older woman behind him, and a small boy of about two or three years old holding on to his leg.  "Do you speak English?" , we asked.  He smiled and half-heartedly nodded his head.

"She used to live here when she was little", Rhonda proclaimed, pointing to me.  "I used to live here when I was little!", I chimed in...as if MY English would be more comprehensible to them than Rhonda's!  [[laughing right now]]

PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 OF CULTURE SHOCK!  YOU'LL FIND OUT WHAT RHONDA AND I DISCOVERED AFTER WE WERE GIVEN THE TOUR OF APT. 3A...