Lesson learnt in a US inner-city neighborhood

Even before I left China in 1992, I was fascinated with the idea of working in a Chinese restaurant in the United States. That seemed like such an essential American experience for any Chinese immigrant, at least according to such popular novels as Beijinger in New York and Manhattan's China Lady.

Soon after I landed in Miami for graduate studies, I began searching for a restaurant where I could fulfill my dream of illegal unemployment (those of us on student visas were not allowed to work off-campus). There were plenty of job listings in Chinese-language newspapers, but transportation was a drag - the medical school where I studied was in Civic Center, an area of concrete buildings, far from everything else.

One day, zigzagging through the city on a bus for an hour, I arrived at a stately hotel right on the beach with a posh Chinese restaurant on the first floor overlooking the ocean. The manager needed help. I needed my experience. We struck a deal.