Shopping with my father

public domain

Chinatown, Boston                                   photo: public domain


MY father and I went shopping in Boston. We had to buy a lot of things because my father is a chef at a Chinese restaurant. The market he goes to is in China Town in Boston. No one was in the market when we got there because it was late at night and all the markets were closing. When we opened the door, the market owner told us that the store is closed. But then he looked at his watch and said we could have ten minutes to shop.    The store is very big and we had lots to buy.  But we said, “O.K.” 

     First we ran to the back of the store to buy sauce. We bought three big bottles. The bottles are really big, not like you buy in a grocery store.  Then we ran to another part of the store to buy two big bags of rice.  The bags are so big that both my father and I had to lift them into our cart. But the bags did not fit in the cart. So my father put on the bags on his back and ran to the cashier [the person you give your money to when you buy something in a store] and left the rice there.  Then we ran to look for noodles. We thought they were in the back of the store, but we couldn’t find them because the owner shut off the lights and it was really dark. We ran back to the front of the store to say we couldn’t see anything.  The owner said, “The noodles are right where you were looking!”  We then asked the owner to please turn on the lights so we could see.  The lights came back on.  We found the noodles and ran back to the front of the store to pay for everything. As soon as the owner saw the cashier take our money, he shut the lights off again and then we left.  —Yuqi

 ©InterestEng. July 2013  §  The stories in the magazine portion of the site are written by English language learners. Stories are corrected by a native English speaker.  § Photos are staff or used with permission.  §  To contact us:  go.gently.on@gmail.com