Visiting my Dad’s childhood home

IMG_7343Back in the 1960’s – 70’s, my father and his family lived in a cramped room buried within a crowded maze of hunched buildings . According to my 3rd aunt, in their childhood, owning a small room to begin with would make one considered well-off. They lived together in a cramped room, my father, his five sisters, their parents, and grandma (my ah-ta). Now most of the previous tenants have moved out to more comfortable complexes in the city, a new wave of workers from the countryside have filled the premises. My 3rd aunt cringed at the sight of the dirty hallways cluttered in an array of boxes and other miscellany as she told me that when my family lived there, it was a lot cleaner.IMG_7356

I took a lot of photos and messily filmed videos to show my dad, hopefully it will trigger some nostalgia.


This part of the city really had a different atmosphere: the moss-covered sinks that sank into the road, kids washing their hair on rooftops with hoses, and indoor grey-washed walls, drearily untouched. Honestly living here would dry me out, but the tenants who live here don’t really have a choice.


Friendly photogenic cat who I wish I could take home and a not-so-friendly dog who growled at me pff.


We had a meal nearby with Western cuisine. Spaghetti and meatballs and chicken sandwich. 

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