Chinatown

CHINATOWN

MASTER LEE pointed out his favorite Chinatown business, Antique 'n Jade, at 87 Elizabeth St. The proprietor was out front trying to sell a dusty fag bag for two dollars, and I had to admire his enterprise in the face of what he surely knew to be a hopeless offer. Nearby there were Chinese kids smoking skunk street weed, and this, says the Master, was a first for Chinatown.

"Their grandparents worked really hard, and now these kids are starting to slack."

An assortment of old, homely reading glasses was also on offer in front of Antique 'n Jade, but all the good jade, some of which is 400 years old, is hanging up inside. We found a white piece that would look good with Master Lee's regular attire of long flowing tops, or the robe he wears when he does his Salvador Dali act and puts a squid in a blender, but $65 was too steep.

We checked out the Chinese gang karaoke spot, Princess Lounge, where regulars smoke and play dominos, oblivious to any rules whatsoever, and then Winnie's, the white karaoke place at Bayard and Mulberry. The patrons were in a state of disrepair, but it gets packed on a Friday night. Tea & Tea on Mott and the Green Tea Cafe are a new kind of nontraditional tea house for Chinatown; they open to the street, but I don't know how our big American butts are going to sit on the small Chinese barrels that serve as chairs.

On Mott St. on the way to the restaurant, I saw a black kid with a do-rag hovering near a Chinese kid with an open portfolio, outside of a toy shop.

"They're magic card kids, like Dungeons & Dragons," Lee told me. I'm fond of obsession in the young, and didn't want to interrupt, so we scooted over to the Vegetarian Dim Sum House, 24 Pell St., where I had mock shrimp and cashews for $9.95, and my companion had mock fish with Chinese broccoli in black bean sauce for $13.95, which was livelier than my dish. I think long-time vegetarians have such faded memories of real food that they might not even realize that the mock shrimp dumplings are gooey and bland.

Fifty percent of the community is below the poverty line, Lee told me, with the other half going to college and doing really well. This is the first generation with really smart kids hanging out in Chinatown, instead of leaving. In the past, they tended to leave.

The owners of Silk Road Mocha at 30 Mott St. are trying to bring the arts to Chinatown, and have been hosting a Friday night open-mic called TEABAG to bring artists of all backgrounds to the area. About half of the performers are Asian, which is pretty unusual.

Mr. Ching, the owner of Silk Road Mocha, is an idealist. The upstairs has an area for press conferences—mostly political—there's a small lounge area for bubble tea and snacks. Shows are in the basement.

"I'm the parent of three kids. Most Chinese parents don't want to develop their kids, they just want them to study and go to school, but I want my kids to meet other types of kids, and develop talent. The barriers should be less. We're trying to experiment; there are enough restaurants in Chinatown. This space used to be a rectory for the Church of Transfiguration, and at one time it was an opium den, and before we took over it was a bakery. We had to take out two layers of stainless steel!"

Mark Wong, Ching's partner, has been an activist in the neighborhood since the early 70s, when the neighborhood was more dangerous. "It was when the gangs started having guns and innocent people were shot. Knives and chains we could all deal with, but that's when the dances got shut down and the clubs moved west."

Telly is the manager of the open mic, which features comedy and folk music, a little of which goes a long way with me. A Filipino comedian cracked some good jokes about his mom's poor English, taking tests and video games.

"You know you're young when you can do a whole set on video games," Lee commented.

Michael Young Cho, a really good Korean comedian, played around with the idea of being fresh off the boat, and another guy talked about the Asian Amway, where you study to the point of mutation, then get married and produce other mutants.

Having missed the last massage of the night (10 p.m. at Maiyomi Traditions on 68 White St.), I headed to some newish bars on the edge of Chinatown with my pal Ted, who used to live on top of Dr. Toothy, cattycorner from the Wo Hop. Now he's got a nice flat on Canal and Eldridge—$2400 split three ways with a monthly $250 kickback from the last of the post-9/11 redevelopment funds.

I hated Double Happiness, a hipster cave, but liked Happy Ending, which used to be the Xie health club, with semi-private tiled massage rooms. It's known as a late spot, where people go after they're already ripped, Ted tells me. We passed Good World, which used to be a Chinese barber shop, and ended up at Bar 169, heavy on the hiphop, which didn't used to be anything.