Pedestrian Newsletter 05
In Search of Chung Moo, Asphalt Deserts, and Listening to Your Gut
Friends—
This is Pedestrian and I’m Alex T. Wolfe.
It’s been a wild ride this summer to say the least. I hope you are hanging in there and staying safe. I’d like to thank everyone who purchased a copy of Pedestrian Magazine 5 so far. Together we’ve raised over $300 dollars for Girltrek! Don’t worry, copies are still available and I’ll be donating 40% of sales until I’m all sold out. Click here to purchase.
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In Search of Chung Moo
As summer comes to its inevitable end, I’ve made a habit of abandoning a predetermined route and allowing myself to walk where my heart desires. Oftentimes I’ll wander too far to walk all the way back home. Luckily, subway travel has become a viable means of transportation as COVID cases subside here in New York City. Pandemic or not, I prefer not to take the train, but it’s always a nice option to have (given that I’m near a subway station) in the event that I do wander too far to walk back home.
Earlier this month I wandered too far. I had plans to go all the way to Citi Field in Queens, but quickly shifted course before arriving. I’m not a fan of the Mets, but I liked the novelty of walking to a place that feels so inaccessible by foot. It’s really not that difficult to get there, but the area is so obviously built for those riding the train or driving a car. The stadium sits in the middle of an asphalt desert and you can hear the persistent hum of the surrounding highways. The developers have left little to the imagination other than to attend a baseball game, maybe eat a hotdog, and ride the train home. Appealing for a walker—I know.
Before arriving at Citi Field, I took a moment to relax in Flushing Meadows‑Corona Park, the fourth largest park in New York City by area. It has a rich history. In the early 20th Century, urban planners hastily deemed the parkland “completely worthless” since it was so far removed from the developed parts of the city. For some reason it made sense to use it as a dumping ground for coal ashes until redeveloping it under an effort led by the notorious Robert Moses. The park served as the home of the World’s Fair in 1939 and 1964 and even temporarily housed the United Nations headquarters. Parts of the park have fallen into disrepair over the years, most notably seen in the abandoned New York State Pavilion. Perhaps a failed experiment, Flushing Meadows is undeniably one of the most eccentric and enjoyable parks in the city. Every time I visit I'm reminded and this time was no exception.
I sat beneath the Unisphere (the park's most iconic fixture), and realized I wasn’t particularly excited to walk the remaining 8 miles back home. I’d worked up quite the appetite and spent most of the afternoon listening to my stomach growl. Hunger is often a good cause for deviation. I couldn’t stop thinking about a dish of tteokbokki I’d eaten from a Korean restaurant in Flushing. So in typical dérive fashion, I decided to forgo a stop at Citi Field and walked an extra 3 miles to grab a bite to eat.
I continued towards Flushing Creek and walked over the Roosevelt Avenue Bridge. This was the first time I’d walked this bridge. The 7 train intermittently passed overhead as the rumble of the train cars drowned out the sound of Van Wyck Expressway beneath me. I’d nearly walked the entire span of the bridge before encountering anyone, save for a heron sitting on the bank of the creek below. A man in the distance slowly grew larger and larger while he moved towards me. As we crossed paths he asked for the time. Without muttering a word, I showed him the watch on my wrist. He glanced momentarily, studying the numbers before him, nodded, and slowly walked away.
The night was beginning to fall and a gentle rain washed the concrete surrounding me as I reached the heart of Flushing. The neon lights emitting from the Chinese and Korean restaurants nearby reflected on the puddles forming near the side of the road.
I forgot to mention earlier that I really wasn’t sure where this restaurant was, nor did I remember the name. Given the precarious nature of small business these days, it was a gamble to assume that the restaurant would even be open. Whether I found this restaurant or not, there was no way I was going home without being fed.
Pausing for a moment, I gazed at a traffic light arching over Main Street as if to receive some kind of sign from the DOT gods. The traffic light changed from green to red causing traffic to come to an abrupt stop. The WALK sign radiated from across the crosswalk signaling that it was my turn to cross. I continued up Roosevelt Avenue passing nearly a dozen restaurants. Something felt right as I reached the T-intersection at Union Street. I scanned just about every building within eyesight. Paris Baguette, the bank, the liquor store, the bodega, Chung…Moo?
“Chung Moo! That’s it!”
I repeated the name several times in my head so I would never forget. I was pleased to find a giant OPEN sign hanging in the window of the restaurant. The door was propped open as if management had expected me. For all I knew they could have been. I quickly walked inside and a man greeted me from behind the counter. Nothing about this place had changed since my last visit.
“I’ll have a dish of tteokbokki with cheese,” I said to the cashier.
It is moments like finding Chung Moo again that make walking all the more worthwhile. Sometimes things deviate from a plan, but almost always end up working out in the end. You’ll almost always find something new if you choose to walk. And if plans don’t work out, well, at least you learned a lesson. In this case, I’d followed my stomach and things turned out alright. With a belly full of tteokbokki, I grabbed my bag and took the 7 train home.
Thanks for reading,
Alex
The best tteokbokki I’ve ever had. Be sure to get it with cheese.
Chung Moo Riceroll and Dongas
39-04 Union St, Flushing, NY 11354
Thank you Greg for making this month’s newsletter possible!
Pedestrian tells stories about the people, routines, and connections we make as a result of moving throughout one’s everyday surroundings. It began as a quarterly magazine in 2018 by Alex T. Wolfe and is occasionally released as a podcast. If you enjoy Pedestrian, please consider being a patron.