Vietnamese help transform drug den into famous Sydney food court

A notorious drug den in western Sydney, Australia has completely disappeared after Vietnamese immigrants moved here to live and do business.

Nearly 30 years ago, the suburbsCabramatta, in Sydney's west, is a notorious drug den with open-air markets.heroin, power struggles between gangs, according to the New York Times.

"I swear to God, at that time the areaCabramatta"It was like a war zone," recalled police officer Scott Cook, now commander of the New South Wales organised crime squad in the late 1980s.

Asian men play chess on the sidewalk in Cabramatta, western Sydney, Australia. According to statistics, indigenous whites make up less than 10% of the population in this area. Photo: New York Times. Credit

BeforeWhen Vietnamese migrants arrived, the majority of Cabramatta's population was made up of working-class indigenous people and European immigrants. Andrew Jakubowicz, a sociology professor at the University of Technology, Sydney, said that in the 1970s, American soldiers smuggled heroin into Sydney from Southeast Asia. Originally a hotbed of Italian crime gangs, Cabramatta quickly becameturned into a drug distribution center for the entire city.

During this period, many disadvantaged Vietnamese youth immigrated to Australia. Others had families but were often left without support as their parents were busy making a living. Isolated both economically and culturally, some formed gangs and became involved in drug trafficking and other criminal activities.

"“The feeling of being part of a loving group was appealing,” recalls Pastor Tony Hoang, 35, recalling his rebellious teenage years, plagued by insecurity, anger and a need to “belong.”

Hue Kim, a vendor selling herbs at the weekend market, said she arrived in Australia 37 years ago while pregnant. Right after giving birth, she took an English course. The teacher noticed a milk stain on her shirt and told her to wait until her baby was stronger before continuing her studies. "So I never went back there again," the 75-year-old woman said in Vietnamese.

According to the 2016 population survey, Vietnamese immigrants still make up the majority inCabramatta, accounting for 33% of the total population of 22,000 people, followed by Chinese at 24% and Cambodians at 8%.

Inside the Pho Tau Bay beef noodle restaurant in Cabramatta, western Sydney, Australia. Photo: New York Times.

However, now,Cabramatta has completely changed. In addition to the efforts of local authorities and police to suppress crime, the presence of the Vietnamese immigrant community has helped the once notorious drug den "transform" into aamong the famous culinary areas in Sydney city.

Today, the children of the first generation of Vietnamese migrants to Australia are enjoying the fruits of their parents' years of hard work while also trying to forge their own identity.

On the main streetJohn Street is bustling with business. Rows of shops, mostly owned by Vietnamese, are lined up side by side. A milk tea shop with a bright yellow sign sits next to a mobile phone store, next to it is a modern burger joint, next to it is a row of sugarcane juice stalls. Not to mention the fabric market and supermarkets specializing in Vietnamese food.

"Area"Cabramatta has always been a good place for me," said Quynh Nguyen, a 33-year-old milk tea shop owner. "I feel at home here." Quynh, who was born in Ho Chi Minh City, moved to Sydney as a teenager.

According to statistics, indigenous whites make up less than 10% of the population of Cabramatta. However, without the need for statistics, one can still see this through the cafes designed with oriental cultural features or the bustling atmosphere of Asian markets.

Corey Nguyen and Jenny Ngo, co-owners of Usual Cafe, said they have ambitions to transform the area.Cabramatta, now home to many traditional Vietnamese coffee shops, has become a place to experience coffee culture elevated to an art form.

“The coffee shops have never been in competition with each other,” said Corey Nguyen, 28. “They have their own shops. We have ours. I wish them well.”

On a quiet corner of John Street, customers line up outside Pho Tau Bay restaurant. Inside, the owner, 36-year-old Chi Giang, wears white glasses and has a calm demeanor, busying himself at the cash register while his staff also work like clockwork, carrying steaming bowls of pho back and forth.

Born in a refugee camp in Indonesia, Giang said he took over the restaurant from his mother, who started the food business in the family kitchen in 1980. With his family's traditional beef noodle soup recipe, Giang's restaurant is consistently rated by food critics as one of the best Vietnamese restaurants.in Sydney. The pho restaurant has been supporting Giang's entire family.

"Many of my customers who first came to the restaurant were still babies in cribs. As the years passed, they gradually grew taller than me and now they still come here to eat pho," Gianh said, pointing to a young family.

According to VNE