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  • Last week for Yue Wa Market
    An Asian woman stands at the entrance of a small market under a green tarp, smiling and holding a bunch of long green beans. Behind her, a younger Asian man stands amid stacked produce boxes, and shelves of groceries line the back.
    Yue Wa market owner Amy Tran holds a bundle of yardlong beans at the entrance to her Chinatown grocery.

    Topline:

    Yue Wa Market, a Chinatown grocery known for hard-to-find produce and a neighborly vibe, is shutting down this week. After 18 years, rising rents, pandemic losses, thefts and a family crisis proved too much for owner Amy Tran.

    The impact: Chinatown is losing one of the few places to buy fresh Asian produce close to home. Older residents and working families now face fewer affordable options to put culturally familiar food on the table.

    Go deeper on a changing Chinatown: Unease in Chinatown As Santa Monica Developer Sweeps Up Shop

    Cruise down Broadway in Chinatown and Yue Wa Market is easy to miss. Not much bigger than a studio apartment, the store hides under a green awning, wedged between a souvenir shop and a pharmacy.

    But inside, it’s been a place of connection. For 18 years, owner Amy Tran has greeted customers with a ready smile and hard-to-find produce like Chinese sponge gourd, yardlong beans and heart-shaped cherimoya.

    One recent morning, Tran held up a bunch of moon drop grapes she bought at a downtown warehouse just hours earlier.

    Listen 4:59
    When Yue Wa Market closes this week, Chinatown will lose a neighborhood anchor

    “Very beautiful,” she said in Mandarin as a group of retiree friends crowded around, murmuring in agreement.

    A person in a pink striped shirt holds up a bunch of long, dark-purple moon drop grapes. Behind her, another woman in a sun hat smiles.
    Yue Wa Market specializes in Asian produce and harder-to-find food items like moon drop grapes.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    Satisfying customers is what Tran loves about running the market. But she said it’s time to let go.

    This week is Yue Wa's last. Climbing rent and business drop-off since the pandemic — compounded by increased thefts and this summer’s immigration sweeps — have forced 57-year-old Tran to shutter her business.

    She breaks the news to her regulars, largely Asian and Latino shoppers who live or work nearby, bouncing between Mandarin, Vietnamese, Spanish and her native Cantonese.

    A street view of a small grocery storefront with a sign that reads "Yue Wa Market" shaded by a green awnings with boxes of produce displayed on wooden crates outside. Several shoppers browse the stands and talk with the vendor.
    Yue Wa Market blends into the storefronts of Broadway in L.A.'s Chinatown.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    “The business is slow,” she said in English to a Thai customer, who looks crestfallen. “Everything not so good for us.”

    A neighborhood cornerstone

    It’s a story oft-heard across Los Angeles. Mom ‘n pop’s that anchor immigrant communities are disappearing under economic strain and gentrification pressures as new housing developments and upscale businesses move in.

    Yue Wa is the latest grocery to close in Chinatown in recent years, leaving the neighborhood with fewer options for fresh food.

    Ott Bhandhumani, a retired Thai caterer who lives in subsidized senior housing just blocks away, said Yue Wa has been essential for him and his wife. After Chinatown’s last two full-service grocery stores closed in 2019, just a handful of street vendors and small grocers like Tran’s were left.

    An Asian woman in a pink, yellow and white shirt bags bananas while a Latina customer waits holding cabbage and yardlong beans.
    Yue Wa's closure leaves Chinatown with fewer options for those who live and work in Chinatown to buy fresh produce.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    “I came to this place only because she was nice to me,” said Bhandhumani who wishes now he was more of a "big customer" at Yue Wa.

    For Tran, the decision to close comes after years of struggle.

    Business never rebounded after the pandemic, when many shoppers left Chinatown, some to move in with families like in the San Gabriel Valley, she said. Many of the newer residents skip shopping at an old-school, Chinese-style market where prices aren't listed and haggling is expected.

    “She doesn’t want to let go of the store,” said her son, Derek Luu. “But she just feels very hopeless about the situation.”

    Family support

    Luu, a filmmaker who works with AIDS nonprofits, came home from New York this month to help his mom close up shop.

    He grew up in Yue Wa Market, which his mother bought when he was 10.

    Before becoming a shopkeeper, Tran held an assortment of jobs in Chinatown after emigrating from Vietnam with her Chinese family — from waiting tables to working shifts at a bakery. For a spell, she was driving to different businesses, hawking plastic shopping bags.

    “I remember our living room was just kind of swimming with boxes of bags,” Luu said. “She has always had this entrepreneurial spirit.”

    A younger Asian man in a black tank top sits smiling, showing a cloud-pattern tattoo on his shoulder. Behind him,  an older Asian woman in a blue tank top stands under a green tarp with a Metro bus passing on the street outside.
    Derek Luu, Amy Tran's son, came home from New York to help his mom close up shop.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    The previous owner of Yue Wa sold herbal supplements and tea before approaching Tran to take over the business in 2007. She at first added yams to her inventory for its medicinal properties. But at customers’ request, she kept expanding the produce section until stacked crates of fruits and veggies spilled onto the sidewalk.

    As a teen, Luu pitched in at the store after finishing classes at his arts high school a short walk away from Yue Wa.

    He returned there to work during the pandemic, leaving UCLA so he could protect his mother from the surge in anti-Asian attacks from strangers.

    “They would come in, take product and throw it into the street,” he recalled. “They would yell slurs at my mom. It got to a point where I just felt like I needed to be here.”

    Since the pandemic, thefts have become a weekly occurrence — with losses ranging from stolen register money to pilfered fruit. CCTV shows both Tran and her sole employee, 75-year-old Shi Zong Xu, being robbed. The family estimates they’ve lost tens of thousands of dollars over the last several years.

    A faintly-smiling older Asian man wearing glasses, a blue cap, and a green apron stands inside a store, its shelves packed with boxed goods.
    Seventy-five-year-old Shi Zong Xu, Amy Tran's sole employee at Yue Wa Market, plans to retire after the store closes.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    Tran reasons that more people are suffering hardship, and will often just give away food or cash if she sees someone loitering around her shop.

    Tran took out loans to keep the shop afloat as the monthly rent rose to $3,450. But the strain only deepened. The ICE raids this summer scared off some longtime customers and vendors. And then the family became crime victims in their own home.

    A family crisis

    The family, which includes Tran's husband Hugh and younger child, Tiffany, saw their San Gabriel Valley home go through several break-ins — likely by criminals targeting Asian households in the region, they've been told by investigators.

    Luu said in the most recent incident in June, his sister was assaulted and injured. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, which is investigating, has not identified the suspects.

    Seeing her daughter suffer has been crushing for Tran.

    A young Asian man in a black tank top sits on a stool inside a store, watching two Asian women — one in a blue blouse and gloves, another in a green shirt — standing near the open doorway. A school bus and green tarp are visible outside.
    Amy Tran and her son Derek Luu speak with a neighborhood friend.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    “My mom just ran out of things to say to my sister,” says Luu. “She felt like she didn’t do enough to protect us. I told her she didn’t fail. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

    To help her out during this time of transition, Luu started a GoFundMe for his mom, who herself is dealing with diabetes and cataracts.

    Tran doesn’t share her family trauma with customers. She only tells them she can’t afford to stay in Chinatown.

    Customers adrift

    For regulars, the closure is a heavy loss.

    “It makes me upset,” said Sarah Mondol, a nursing student who shops weekly at Yue Wa for her family of six.

    She relies on the market for produce like okra, cauliflower and eggplant to make traditional Bangladeshi dishes. “Everything is fresh, and it’s convenient, totally.”

    Mondol said she’ll likely start taking the bus more often to a full-service grocery store about two miles away.

    An Asian woman smiling in a navy blouse and blue gloves, chats with another Asian woman in a black T-shirt under a green tarp surrounded by bins of fresh produce.
    Yue Wa regular Sarah Mondol says she was sad and upset the market was closing after making weekly visits for the five years she and her family have been living in Chinatown.
    (
    Josie Huang
    /
    LAist
    )

    “I can go to Smart & Final, but you know, there are not good Asian vegetables I can find there,” she said.

    Bhandhumani, the retired Thai caterer, has been battling cancer and said he often doesn't have the strength to shop far from home.

    He can’t begin to guess what will replace Yue Wu, but said Chinatown is changing to where it’s not so much for older people like him on a fixed income.

    “You can see that they have a new apartment come up, and the price [is] sky- high,” Bhandhumani said. “You can't touch it. We can’t do luxury.”

    Tran hasn’t heard what will open in her spot. All she knows is she must be out when her lease ends this month to clear the way.

    “Everything that doesn't sell, I’ll try to store it at home,” she said.

    Tuesday is her last day. She’s inviting customers to stop by to pick up some tea or fruit, pose for a picture or just say hello — one last time.

    Where to go

    Yue Wa Market
    658 N. Broadway, Los Angeles
    (213) 680-4229

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