Soundwalk

The neighborhood I chose to walk around is Manhattan’s Chinatown at 11 am. Walking around, there is a clear soundmark: people speaking in Chinese all around. Cantonese, Mandarin, and any dialect within the two is always present. The hustle and bustle of Chinatown in the morning sounds chaotic. I realize how large of a space Chinatown is, as I am usually walking down the crowded sidewalks with people’s voices against my ears.

Some sound signals I heard were the street vendors, yelling and telling people about the cheap groceries they are selling and the rustling of plastic bags when they are bagging the groceries. Their voices are striking and loud, forcing you to pay attention to the sound. Since I speak Cantonese myself, it sounds soothing rather than loud and makes me feel at home, and I do consider Chinatown my second home. Occasionally, there will be the loud, shrieking sound of sirens. There are children talking happily while their parent tells them to hurry up. As I walk down the streets, I heard the meow of a cat. I was extremely confused but when I looked to my left, I saw a cat underneath the stalls of a street vendor. It was charming, adding to the diverse sounds of Chinatown.

I consider language as a soundmark as well as a keynote. It is heard everywhere, hard to escape. The voices of tourists are heard, speaking in a multitude of languages, blending into the Chinese. Another keynote would be the sound of transportation. I hear the cars rushing down the street, honking at each other or pedestrians who are jaywalking. The rumbling of subways coming through floor grates reminds me of New York City. There are racks of Citibikes scattered around Chinatown, with the sounds of people locking and unlocking bikes from the station, and the ticking of the rotating wheels. As I begin to leave, I hear the voices of the old ladies selling food on the streets having conversations with their friends. I end with the voice of my dad telling me it’s time to leave.