Exercise as art
They begin before sunrise every day on the picnic pavilion at Barnes Park in Monterey Park. Arms gently flow in the same direction. Bodies slowly stretch en masse. Legs softly extend in identical positions with the fluidity of ballet as hundreds of senior citizens, middle-aged women and men and a few young adults practice the deep breathing and the deliberate movements of the ancient martial art, tai chi.
The park quietly bustles as the tai chi practitioners, many of them Chinese immigrants, go through morning rituals in large and small groups, or in solitary concentration, always in the same place -- the covered picnic pavilion, near the swimming pool, around the amphitheater, up on the hill, under trees and along congested walkways near swings, slides and jungle gyms.
The rise of tai chi and other Chinese exercises practiced in Barnes Park mirrors the demographic transformation of Monterey Park, a suburban city in the San Gabriel Valley that is known mostly by outsiders for its dim sum restaurants. Mass immigration between 1980 and 2000 changed what had been a largely white and Latino city to one of the nation’s first cities with an Asian majority. Today, more than a third of the population of 60,000 is Chinese and most are foreign born. Similar scenes take place in other areas with large Chinese concentrations, including nearby Sequoia Park, Alhambra Park in neighboring Alhambra and Alpine Park in Chinatown near downtown Los Angeles.
But Barnes Park, at 350 McPherrin Ave., stands out because of the numbers. “There are 200 or 300 people here in the morning,” notes Henry Panagiotes, the director of the Monterey Park department of parks and recreation. Panagiotes remembers when the grassy oasis that stretches behind the civic center was nothing like this.
“In the early ‘80s, it was basically pretty empty in the morning,” he says. “The tai chi started out in the mid-’80s ... so that now everybody has a little section of the park they claim as their own. There must be 15 or 20 groups doing what they call tai chi. They may use items. They may use music. No one is supposed to charge because they are on public property.”
Barnes Park has a daily rhythm.
In the early morning quiet, tai chi adherents congregate on the picnic pavilion while the first swimmers do laps. Walkers and joggers cross through or around the park as another early group repeats Chinese exercises on the side of the amphitheater. Around 8 a.m., senior citizens sun themselves on benches before they begin modified stretches along the walkways. Day by day, year after year, they spend time in this park with friends, family and strangers. Some dash in, do the exercises and leave. Some visit in small groups during short breaks or with others after the sessions. Occasionally, some will go out to breakfast or share food on the picnic tables during holidays such as the upcoming Chinese New Year.
There is no talking among the exercisers, only the sounds of counting to 10 again and again in Cantonese or Mandarin, or soft music interrupted by commands such as inhale, exhale. It’s like watching a slowly moving canvas, unfolding against a backdrop of the sunrise.
In the predawn chill, Victoria Ly and Wing Lee call out directions in Mandarinas two dozen women and one man practice yuan chi, a combination of traditional Chinese dance, tai chi and kung fu that is very popular in Taiwan.
As the rising sun streaks the sky orange and gold, they can see their breath as they elegantly bow, lift and turn as a group near the rear of the picnic pavilion. Because it is Saturday, they wear their red and white uniforms; the rest of the week they wear jogging suits, thick vests, anything to keep warm. During breaks, they sip from small cups of steaming Chinese tea.
“The reason we’re so early, is because this is the best place,” Emmiline Wong says shortly after 6 a.m., citing the pavilion’s cover, which offers protection from inclement weather. She started this group five years ago after seeing a Taiwanese couple do the movements in the park.
As they rehearse, Lee’s former student Hai Luu snaps pictures. “I taught him Mandarin in Saigon, in 1967 and 1968,” Lee says. Born in Canton, she immigrated, like millions of ethnic Chinese, to Vietnam and subsequently settled in Monterey Park. Ly also came from Vietnam, 25 years ago. The group’s founder, Wong, moved to Los Angeles more than half a century ago from the south of China. The three leaders met years ago in the early morning tai chi group.
Every morning at 7, Lisa Yuen silently leads the largest group in the park. As many as 50 women and a smattering of men space themselves around light wooden picnic tables. On cue from the boom box, they gracefully reach, bend, tiptoe and dip as they practice traditional qi gong exercises with lyrical names such as “holding the moon,” “watching the sunset” and “birds flying.”
Yuen learned tai chi in Malaysia before moving here 18 years ago. She heard about Barnes Park from friends and, in 1995, became one of three leaders; the other two speak only Mandarin.
“We’re here every day, nonstop,” says the tall, lithe Yuen, 54, who owns a discount business.
Drawn to the movement
While they smoothly push out their arms, rotate their wrists, bend and twist their bodies, one participant looks out of place -- Myron Freeman, 63, a white man from Minnesota who moved west five years ago. “I saw a woman practicing [tai chi] by herself in a park in Commerce,” he says. She directed him to Barnes Park.
“I kept watching this class. The movements are a lot like ballet. I took ballet at 40 for health reasons,” he says.
A courier, he lives in Hollywood and comes to the park every weekend. He says no one makes him feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. “The Chinese, I admire them, because they look first. They check you out. They see you have interest and they help you out,” he says after class while sipping from a thermos of his special mushroom tea.
“Different corners have different exercises,” says Luke Saechow, who is 55. “Everyone has their own corner.” A parole officer, Saechow joins the largest tai chi group every weekend. “It relaxes me,” she says. “My job is really stressful. I have to do this to relax my brain, to relax physically and emotionally.”
As she leaves the 7 a.m. class, two large groups of line dancers take over the picnic pavilion. As they step and turn to fast-paced music, barely a foot away two smaller groups go through the fluid motions of tai chi. Behind the shelter, another group forms a circle and follows the lead of a kung fu master.
After tai chi, Saechow exercises with a large group of senior citizens who count out loud in Cantonese. Unlike those who never stray from their spots, Saechow visits others and walks throughout the 12-plus acres that also include a community center, basketball gym, softball field and tennis courts, all busy. On this day, as she heads up the hill, Saechow sees women pointing at her. They need someone to speak English. “They’re always pointing at me,” she says. She obliges and continues around to the side of the amphitheater.
“That’s my cousin,” she says, pointing to Ling Hoi Wong. He moved here seven years ago from Hong Kong. Patiently, he goes through the basics of a tai chi movement as two young women, whom he met at his bank, try to imitate him. A retired doctor, Wong, 79, has been doing these exercises most of his life.
“I learned tai chi when I was 16 in Canton,” he says as Saechow, who came here from Hong Kong as a youngster, translates. “I learned from one of the masters in school ... ,” he says. “I do it by myself daily.”
Around the corner from his regular spot, Nana Zhao teaches in front of the amphitheater.
Back home in Tianjin -- a city of 10 million that is the closest seaport to Beijing -- she was a champion who could do exercises with a sword like no one else. After moving to Los Angeles about 18 months ago, she found her way to Barnes Park.
Phung Phung hurt her back and legs while playing pingpong. Limping past the park, she saw all the people doing exercises and asked to learn. Phung, who came from Cambodia 23 years ago, speaks Mandarin like Zhao. As they speak, Saechow, who understands some Mandarin, translates.
The women have worked together for more than a year, and now Phung walks with ease as they perform soft and sharp movements. Next, they snap large red fans open and closed as they do that routine. “We follow the music,” Phung says as she searches for the right song on a small tape recorder. Finally, they take out swords with colored tassels and do those exercises.
Before Zhao found a job, as an assembler, she came to the park every day to join Lisa Yuen in the large tai chi group that meets every morning on the picnic pavilion. They’ve become part of the tapestry of this park, and of an old world that’s been transplanted to Monterey Park.