Wednesday, October 12, 2022 — 7
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
S T A T E M E N T

CHEN LYU
Statement Contributor 

Ethnic businesses transformed Ann Arbor strip malls into cultural meccas

Rediscovering Ann Arbor

HALEY JOHNSON
Statement Correspondent

(ABOVE) Aladdin’s Market sits on a corner of the Packard/Platt mall.

KEITH MELONG/Daily

RILEY NIEBOER/Daily

(ABOVE) The Songbird Cafe at the Plymouth Road Mall.

(ABOVE) The Golam Meat Market nestled in the Packard/Platt strip mall.

KEITH MELONG/Daily

(ABOVE) Runners and dog walkers pass on a border-to-border trail segment along the Huron River Sunday, October 9.

(ABOVE) Patrons eat and relax at the Big City Small World Bakery at 
the corner of Miller Avenue and Spring Street.

JEREMY WEINE/Daily

JEREMY WEINE/Daily

I fell back in love with Ann 
Arbor, unintentionally, on a run. 
I was training for an upcoming 
half-marathon, and I ventured 
farther and farther away from 
campus to get in my miles, seeing 
my endurance improve gradually. 
As the seconds on my stopwatch 
clicked upward, the familiar sights 
of the Diag, Nichols Arboretum and 
Kerrytown slowly morphed into 
quiet residential streets and shaded 
trails along the banks of the Huron 
River. 
I never expected Ann Arbor, or 
rather, the 3,000-some acres that 
make up the University campus, to 
feel dull. My mother and sister are 
alumnae; growing up, they’d tell 
me how they missed the campus’s 
indescribable energy. I was entering 
my senior year of high school, and 
despite having told everyone I 
wanted to go to Michigan for years, 
I had never been to campus. I lived 
five hours north in a quiet tourist 
town on the shore of Lake Michigan 
and thought every day about how 
excited I was to leave. Ann Arbor 
was the antithesis of my hometown: 
It was young, vibrant and alive. 
But at some point after I had 
matriculated, the magic began to 
fade. I can’t exactly pinpoint when, 
but I think it happened while I 
was living in the Bay Area over the 
summer for an internship. Coming 
to California, I felt my whole world 
open up again. Everything about 
Ann Arbor that invigorated me — 
the natural beauty, the liveliness, 
the local charm — was amplified 
by a thousand in San Francisco. 
Returning to Michigan in some 
ways felt regressive, like there 
wasn’t anything new waiting for 
me here. I was entering my senior 
year and resigned myself to biding 
my time until I could move on to the 
next thing. 
***
The University’s Central Campus 
is only 85 acres, but it casts an 
outsized shadow on the rest of the 
town. Residents of Ann Arbor have 
long complained about the “town-
gown” divide, and the University’s 
blatant disregard for the city’s 

political 
authority. 
Students 
who grew up in Ann Arbor have 
described the University as being 
a completely different side of the 
city, with its own distinct culture 
and feel. Despite this separation, 
students still manage to encroach 
on townie life. It only occasionally 
bubbles to the surface in public 
ways, like at city council meetings, 
but if you look closely, you’ll see 
plenty of complaints and jokes about 
students on social media.
The 
town-gown 
relationship 
isn’t completely adversarial. The 
University does work with the 
city; both have a vested interest in 
maintaining Ann Arbor’s status as 
one of the best college towns in the 
country and one of the best places to 
live. Still, these goals seem at odds. 
College students are, by nature, 
transient. A good place to live for 
four years in your 20s is different 
from a good place to put down 
roots and raise a family. I always 
understood why Ann Arbor was a 
great college town, that was obvious 
enough. But I sometimes wondered 
what made this city different from 
the other upscale, mid-sized cities 
across the country. 
***
I started running farther and 
farther away from campus out of 
necessity. I had to increase the 
length of my long run each week. 
Eight miles became 10 and then 12. 
I slowly edged deeper and deeper 
into the neighborhoods surrounding 
campus, like Bach, Water Hill and 
Barton Pond, before I found myself 
in wholly unfamiliar territory. I 
like to think that, even before I 
dove into marathon training, I got 
off campus more than the average 
student, albeit mostly because I 
had a car. I was a regular at a bagel 
place down on Washtenaw Avenue, 
often ventured out to the city’s parks 
and trails and would occasionally 
drive to Ypsilanti so I could go out 
for dinner without seeing everyone 
I knew. This certainly wasn’t all 
there was to Ann Arbor and its 
surrounding areas, but I thought I 
had seen a fair amount. 
Now, I’m convinced the best way 
to discover Ann Arbor is on foot. 
My main running route circled 
through Kerrytown before getting 
on the border-to-border trail, a 

35-mile pathway that connects one 
end of Washtenaw County to the 
another. I’d make a loop around 
Gallup Park and continue on the 
trail before turning around near 
Washtenaw Community College. 
Other times I’d head through the 
Old West Side neighborhood or east 
on Geddes Avenue, far past the Arb 
or frat row.
On these runs, I began to see 
Ann Arbor with fresh eyes again. 
Intuitively, I knew there was more to 
campus; I wasn’t so self-absorbed as 
to think that people didn’t actually 
live in town. For the most part, 
however, my existence in Ann Arbor 
has been constricted to the one-mile 
radius around wherever I was living 
at the time. I’d drive to Meijer and 
Trader Joe’s and Briarwood every 
now and then like most students do, 
but I never took the scenic route or 
made any detours. 
Running allowed a certain level 
of serendipity that driving didn’t. I 
was free to jog down any side street 
that caught my eye or circle around 
the block to catch a second look at 
one of the gorgeous old homes in the 
Old West Side. I could stop to pet a 
dog or read a sign tacked to a street 
post or get out my phone to figure 
out where on earth I was. I had lived 
in Ann Arbor for 3 years, but every 
run taught me something new about 
this place. 
Despite 
my 
commitment 
to 
exploring beyond the cushy areas of 
campus, many of my favorite places 
to run were in the Old West Side 
and Burns Park, two of the most 
affluent neighborhoods in the area. 
While most students don’t regularly 
venture out to these areas, they were 
still within walking (or in my case, 
running) distance to campus. 
If you don’t look closely, campus 
can 
feel 
homogenous, 
only 
displaying the particular kind of 
lifestyle maintained by wealthy 
students: M Den merchandise, 
SoulCycle 
classes, 
Aventura 
tapas and riverside dinners at the 
Gandy Dancer. I wondered if I had 
inadvertently replicated the same 
phenomenon during my training — 
was I focusing on the shiny, wealthy 
surface of the city and missing a 
much realer and more nuanced 
picture of what Ann Arbor was like? 
When I eventually returned to 

my apartment in Kerrytown at 
the end of each run, I updated my 
mental map of the city. I began 
to see how my small corner of 
campus was connected to the rest of 
Washtenaw County through trails 
and elementary schools and yard 
signs and fliers and all sorts of subtle 
markers. 
***
Recent U-M alum Justin Yuan 
moved to Pittsfield Township, 
located south of Ann Arbor in 
Washtenaw County, during his 
third year at U-M and has continued 
living there post-graduation. 
“It’s honestly super nice,” Yuan 
said of Pittsfield township. “It’s 
a new area, there’s a lot of stuff 
nearby, and I can spend more time 
in Ypsilanti, which is just beautiful. 
It’s less crowded but there’s still tons 
of people and it’s less expensive.”
Yuan admitted that he’d come to 
appreciate 
Ann 
Arbor proper and 
the 
downtown 
area more since 
moving 
farther 
away. 
But 
it’s 
not 
so 
easy 
to 
disentangle 
my 
idyllic vision of 

Ann Arbor from its wealth. Many of 
the features that make the city such 
a great place to live are supported 
by its affluent taxpayer base, like 
its well-kept parks and accessible 
public transportation. It’s the hidden 
subtext to every Ann Arbor ranks 
among best places to live headline. 
The award-winning public schools, 
fantastic library system, gorgeous 
parks and beautiful neighborhoods 
can be yours, but only if you can 
afford it. 
When it comes to building 
community and organizing for a 
better Ann Arbor, the city’s ultra-
affluence can be a challenge. 
“A lot of organizing is seeing the 
invisible people,” said Yuan. “And 
not invisible by their own design, but 
just by the reality of how people are 
forced to live, especially in a more 
expensive area, like in Ann Arbor.” 
Yuan, who now works full-time 

as an organizer with the Huron 
Valley Workers Organizing and 
Research Center, cited how many 
low-wage workers are pushed out of 
Ann Arbor by high rent prices. This 
geographic dispersion, combined 
with long commutes on top of work, 
can make it difficult for residents 
to see their common struggles or 
organize.
Building real community and 
making Ann Arbor a great place 
to live for everyone — not just for 
wealthy 
townies 
and 
students 
— takes work. Recognizing that 
there are communities beyond the 
University and that Ann Arbor is 
home to diverse people, many of 
whom are invisible to us, is the first 
step.
On a romantic level, I do think 
there is something special about 
Ann Arbor. It’s some combination of 
Midwestern friendliness, thriving 
cultural institutions, walkability 
and beautiful scenery. Ann Arbor 
will never be able to compete with a 
major city, but it doesn’t need to.
There’s so much more waiting to 
be discovered if you’re just willing to 
step off campus.
Statement Correspondent Haley 
Johnson can be reached at haleyej@
umich.edu.

In late August, I learned that 
an old friend with whom I had 
lost contact was coming to visit 
the University of Michigan. When 
thinking of a place to meet, a 
common friend and I blurted out 
the same answer simultaneously: 
“the Northside Plymouth Road 
Mall!” The area, which houses a 
host of Chinese businesses, from 
grocery stores and restaurants 
to entertainment, has long been 
colloquially referred to as “A2 
Chinatown” 
among 
some 
of 
my 
Chinese 
classmates. 
For 
me, meeting there is not just an 
excursion, but a homecoming.
As 
an 
international 
student, I am 
intrinsically 
fascinated 
by 
ethnic 
businesses 
that provide 
a 
window 
for 
cultural 
exchange. 
I was even 

more excited when I learned 
that these businesses have been 
integrated into their neighborhoods, 
creating a pocket of quaintness 
unlike other suburban strip malls 
that are dominated by national 
chains. 
Think 
the 
Lululemon, 
Madewell, Anthropologie combo 
nestled in Arbor Hills Shopping 
Center.
In an effort to uncover the 
business and community stories, 
I set out to interview some of the 
business owners and neighbors who 
generously invited me into their 
time machines.
Packard/Platt: 
The 
second 
generations who carry on the 
family heritages
In a small section at Packard/
Platt intersection, there is a strip 

mall 
hosting 
Korean, 
Indian, 
Middle Eastern and East European 
grocery 
stores, 
tightly 
packed 
within a line-up of other ethnic 
businesses — a place that was once 
dubbed “The United Nations at the 
intersection of Packard Street and 
Platt Road.” 
When I first entered the Korean 
Grocery Galleria Market on a 
Saturday afternoon, Jason Bang, 
the manager, had already been 
standing behind the counter for 
six hours. For years, Jason and his 
mom have been the fixture of this 
mid-sized market and assume the 
full responsibility of stocking the 
market, organizing the carts and 
greeting the customers.
However, long hours didn’t wear 
down Bang’s energy; he engaged 
with each customer checking out, 
conversing about topics ranging 
from recipe recommendation to 
politics.
“I do enjoy working — every day 
is a different challenge,” Bang said. 
“Every day you get to meet different 
people who are either a very 
interesting person or kind of weird.”
Bang’s past work experience 
doesn’t always feature this rigid 
schedule. When his father, Hyun 
Bang, was first 
operating this 
store, 
Jason 
was working 
in 
South 

Korea. Gradually, he found himself 
straddled between two countries, 
helping out the family business here 
while maintaining freelance jobs in 
South Korea. Jason ended up taking 
over the store. He was transparent 
in expressing what needs to change, 
namely more active food culture 
education here in Ann Arbor.
“There are social media feeds 
and YouTube videos that tell us 
different interesting things that 
people can try,” Jason said. “But one 
thing that is continuously recurring 
is that there isn’t enough education 
... I always tried to introduce a little 
history behind things and explain 
why certain recipes might work 
better with these things.”
In Jason’s store, there are 
popular Korean items like kimchi 
and bulgogi as well as new items 
announced through the store’s 
social media feeds. The store also 
features a significant selection 
of Japanese cooking ingredients 
and snacks, like mochi and Yakult. 
Jason attributed this to the strong 
crossover between the two cuisine 
cultures.
“There are many popular Korean 
snacks that have their Japanese 
counterparts, and vice versa,” Jason 
said. “Cooking-wise there’s a lot of 
overlap between Korea and Japan. 
Even in Ann Arbor, some successful 
Japanese 
restaurants 
are 
also 
managed by Koreans.”

Across the street sits a family-
owned Mexican eatery, TMAZ 
Taqueria. Similar to restaurants 
found in southwest Detroit, TMAZ 
takes the name from the owners’ 
city 
of 
origin, 
bringing 
their 
hometown culture to Ann Arbor.
Kevin 
Hervert-Trinidad, 
who took over the restaurant’s 
operations 
(together 
with 
his 
brother Josue Hervert-Trinidad) 
from his parents so that they 
could focus on their new Westside 
branch. Kevin explained how his 
hometown culture guided TMAZ’s 
restaurant practices in order to 
distinguish themselves from fast-
food chains downtown.
“We are from the Temascalcingo 
region of Mexico, so we abbreviate 
it to TMAZ,” Kevin said. “Our food 
is different because it’s mainly just 
from our local area.”
Kevin acknowledged how this 
strip at Packard and Platt attracted 
a portfolio of diverse immigrant-
owned businesses over time. The 
caring nature of the late owner of 
the property became an anchor 
for immigrant businesses strained 
by financial challenges and fast-
growing rent elsewhere.
“We were first introduced here 
by an associate we were working 
with at Taco King, and we later 
sold it because at that time the 
rent was super high,” Kevin said. 
“The owners of this strip were 
phenomenal people who would take 
care of us, and the rent was nice.”
Multiple residents have pointed 
me to the connection between 
neighborhood 
demographics 
and 
business 
profiles. 
The 
high concentration of housing 
voucher programs has introduced 
socioeconomic diversity to the area. 
The diversity of the businesses 
in turn provides ethnic minority 
groups a sense of connection and 
belonging.
Speaking 
about 
Aladdin’s 
Market, a Middle Eastern grocery 
store, long-term resident Mojdeh 
Meghnot, 
who 
is 
of 
Persian 

heritage, is full of gratitude. It is 
here that she found a community of 
Iranian regulars and a caring store 
owner who is willing to go out of his 
way to help people.
“I go there often to buy Persian 
herbs and cookies and things like 
that, and also I really really like 
their Bulgarian cheese,” Meghnot 
said. “(The owner) has pretty much 
any kind of flavor I need, and every 
time I ask him for a new product 
that he doesn’t have in the store, he 
tries to get it for me … He treats us 
like family.”
Plymouth Road Mall: The 
Asian 
culture 
melting 
pot 
created by U-M graduates
At Plymouth Mall, a two-story 
strip that stands at the northeast 
corner of Plymouth Road, six 
Chinese businesses, two Indian 
and one Korean bakery pack 
the perimeter. The mall carries 
deep ties with the University as 
well. Many founders or owners 
of these businesses — including 
Way 1 Chinese Market, Curry 
Up, Songbird Cafe and Midnight 
Karaoke — had either worked or 
studied at the University before 
owning their businesses.
Jenny 
Song, 
the 
owner 
of 
Songbird Cafe, is a “super townie.” 
She grew up in a Korean immigrant 
family on the Northside of Ann 
Arbor, 
attended 
Huron 
High 
School and moved on to study at 
the University. The experiential 
knowledge made Song believe this 
area on the Northside was ripe for a 
community cafe.
“We are a locally-owned business 
that has a focus on community,” 
Song said. “When you walk in, 
you can tell from your seating or 
dining experience that it’s not too 
formal. I just knew that this type of 
environment would do really well 
on the Northside, because before 
we started, which was 11 years ago, 
there were mostly big chains and 
corporate types of food service.”

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