Chinatown Station

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One morning, a delivery driver noticed something odd on the Chinatown Station parking lot. Among boxes and envelopes, there lay an old wooden shoebox wrapped in faded red paper. The delivery driver opened it curiously—inside was a note scribbled in shaky handwriting: ‘Please return to sender.’ Below were crumpled letters addressed to someone named ‘Mr. Lucky Fortune,’ with a return address from Hong Kong. Turns out, every week some elderly neighbor sent these letters filled with homemade cookies instead of stamps. Chinatown Station became famous for its annual cookie drive ever since.

2. One day, an elderly gentleman approached the Chinatown Station counter with a mysterious package wrapped in old newspapers. The clerk asked him what it contained, and without hesitation, the man replied, ‘It’s a letter from my great-grandfather.’ The clerk took a closer look but saw nothing unusual. Curiously, he accepted the package and said, 'I'll deliver it personally.' Later that evening, while walking down quiet streets, he heard someone calling his name. It was just a delivery driver asking for directions—nothing more than a friendly neighborhood encounter.

3. One afternoon, a postal worker found an old umbrella leaning against the Chinatown Station entrance. Curious, he picked it up and noticed a small note attached: ‘Take care of this until rain stops.’ Over the next few hours, more umbrellas appeared—each with its own little note. By evening, the station resembled a makeshift park. The postal worker shrugged and posted a sign: ‘Umbrellas for rent, 1 ruble per hour.’ A regular soon arrived, smiling: ‘Finally, someone understands us, Chinatown folk!’

4. One night, a curious cat kept appearing outside the Chinatown Station's mailboxes, curiously sorting envelopes and letters into piles. Finally, one morning, an exhausted-looking postman found himself face-to-face with the cat. ‘You’re causing quite a commotion!’ he said. The cat looked up, blinked once, then calmly walked away, leaving behind a neatly sorted pile of mail. From that day on, no one ever saw the cat again—except maybe in the occasional well-sorted stack of letters.