IIn 2006, during a gap year before starting university, my son Pan set out to discover “the world beyond books.” After spending four months backpacking through Australia and New Zealand, he shared with me his deepest realization from his travels: the meaning of home.
he said to me: “Some people live in luxurious mansions but rarely share dinner or weekends with their families. Others live in crowded cottages, surrounded by the sounds of children playing and the smell of home-cooked meals every day. Deep in the mountains. Some people live in the city and know every leaf in the grass, birds, and rabbits, while others are strangers to their neighbors even though they've traveled downtown.'' His words made me think about the place I've called home. I let it happen.
My first “home” was split between my grandparents' homes. My parents, who were members of the Chinese Communist Party in the 1950s, had no time for me. I was sent away at 30 days old. I don't remember much about life at my grandparents' house.
My second home was one I'll never forget. It was a political orphanage for children. Fourteen of us were labeled “black children” because we came from families considered enemies of the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution. For six and a half years, we were denied the right to play, talk, and even eat with other children.
My third home was a journey, not a place. I traveled to cities and villages interviewing Chinese women. I bridged the experiences of a mother and daughter, exploring the concept of home through their eyes. This trip was part of my work on the radio show “Words on the Night Breeze,” which I hosted from 1989 to 1997.
At the age of 40, I felt a real sense of belonging to England. This final home was a physical and emotional haven where I reflected on my life's journey and forged a new sense of purpose and connection. For me, my real home is my apartment in Queensway, London.
I moved here in the summer of 2002, and three years later I realized I knew very little about my neighbors or the history of the vibrant street I lived on. When my son talked about the atmosphere in his hometown, I suddenly felt curious. I tried digging into its past.
Queensway is a shopping street in Bayswater, west London. Early maps show a road cutting across fields north from Bayswater Road. Queensway was originally called Black Lion Lane. In 1837, it was renamed Queen's Road after Queen Victoria, who was born at nearby Kensington Palace. However, the name was considered too common and a century later it became Queensway.
At the north end of the street stood one of London's famous buildings. first department store, Whiteleys was founded by William Whiteley in the 1860s. By the time I moved there, the store had become a shopping center.
Queensway is now home to many restaurants, cafes and pubs. And in Chinese culture, food is like a god. After my son returned from his gap year, he and I embarked on the 'Taste of the Queensway' project. Each week we explored one restaurant along the Queensway, categorized by country. The goal was simple. Find lunch with flavors from different countries at the lowest possible cost.
First, we ate Mexican food at an ice skating rink in Queens. It was delicious. From there, we moved on to a Moroccan and Brazilian restaurant in Queensway Market, then had Arabic kebabs, Persian grill, Indian curry, Iraqi stew, and Turkish food. We tried Russian, Italian, French, Greek, Thai, Malaysian, Mediterranean mezze, Korean BBQ, and of course Chinese restaurants (we counted the six we found as one) and British. We also tried the pub. I also included McDonald's and KFC to get a taste of American fast food.
Our last stop with Mr. Pan was a Japanese conveyor belt sushi restaurant in Whiteley's. We ordered the cheapest option, a bowl of fried rice and unlimited tap water. The sushi chef, who happened to be Chinese, kindly prepared some egg fried rice for us and said, “I think this is enough for both of us.” He put so much oil and salt that we had to drink 4 glasses of water. It was definitely the most filling (and economical) meal we had on our Queensway trip.
What we thought would be a simple 2-3 month culinary exploration turned out to be 27 weeks. To my surprise, Queensway served signature dishes from at least 27 countries. No wonder my late husband, Toby Eadie, once joked that he was surprised to hear someone speaking English outside our apartment. I laughed and replied: “This is London, of course people speak English!'' But after completing the project, his surprise was understandable.
Queensway is more than just a street in London. It is a crossroads of the world and home to people from all over the world. Together we bring our culture, tradition and taste of home to this free and vibrant city. And what a lucky Chinese woman I am to live in such a rich world of flavor in my true home of West London.
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Xinlan is the founder of “Mothers' Bridge of Love” and has written “The Good Women of China,” “China Witness,” “What the Chinese Don't Eat,” “The Promise,” and “The Book of Secrets.” He is the author of nine books, including:
