The best Chinese restaurant that was famous for its porridge—gone. The one that served traditional “Gold Mountain” style dim sum, with their signature chicken roll wrapped with transparent noodles—closed. The bookstores? I had rejoiced in their opening and mourned their closing.
“The old stuff is disappearing,” chuckled David Wong, who grew up in San Francisco Chinatown. “And I’m trying to hold onto the ancient culture.”
David has turned part of his family house into a scholarly studio filled with potted plants, musical instruments and tea wares. We are preparing for an afternoon of “cultured gathering“, an event to be held on Sunday August 19. It will be “just like the old times”, when friends come together to share tea, music, poetry and art.
The elegance of the guqin (seven-stringed zither), the art of tea brewing, the subtlety of poetry breaking into song— the old is still among us, alive and thriving.
It was wonderful to see David’s place, to hear him accompany you and to hear him play solo. What lovely, ancient, mournful, exuberant sounds he made. I can’t get to the event the two of you plan, but thanks to you both for letting me record a little bit of it in advance. A “cultured event” indeed: full of the elegance of years. “The piece is about the emergence of the lotus blossom,” you told me, “but it’s really about the woman, her beauty, her elegance, the delicacy of her gestures. You can just see her.” True enough: pure sound now, but persisting through the centuries.