Confessions of a Cat-holic (48)

If you thought organizing lunch outings was an easy task, then you would be all wrong. There were many intricate complexities related to eating out. For them, eating out once a week was just about right. If I didn't mind the hassle of leaving campus every single day, they would surely welcome my invitations. I often suggested going to the food court at Pacific Place. Back then, there were still a McDonald's and other affordable food chains in the mall. But they complained that sharing a cab back and forth of a 20 HKD ride among 5 people on top of the meal was too much of a luxury. They didn't understand why I could afford a 10 dollar per person cab fare to eat out every single day. So, they were saying that I was a prodigal behind my back because I was rich enough to do things which they otherwise could not have done.

Then, I compromised. Okay, so a trip to Pacific Place from MacDonnell Road was too much of a deluxe excursion. I actually did some research about all the possible venues for a decent meal in the neighborhood and came across a Japanese diner in Coda Plaza when my parents parked our car in the park down below there. It turned out that its lunch menu for students was exceptionally cheap, priced at around 35 HKD for a bento box, with drinks too!

I was excited enough to tell my friends about the deal and I quickly made it a place of our frequent visit. However, my good intention did not end up making everyone happy. My new friends were complaining that my invitation to eat out at the Japanese diner was not a genuine gesture. It was just my showy act for me to flaunt my wealth and my Japanese lineage, only because I could afford a 35 HKD bento box versus a 18 HKD lunch box from the snack shop right outside the school entrace on Kennedy Road.

Rumors of me being half Japanese were running rampant in the new school, despite the fact that I never said anything about my race and ethnicity. I was not Japanese, not by blood and certainly not of upbringing either but I decided to keep my mouth shut, as a way to protect myself and appear mysterious. Only the discerning few who were really close to me could tell that I was a Chosun one. I didn't like to disclose too much private information about myself, not even in St Francis. That was just the way I had been. It might have been Vicki Chan who was the culprit in first spreading false information about my background. Thank you, rumor mill.

Hey, I grew up in Hong Kong in a local school and spoke Cantonese for all my life. Even if I was half Japanese, I had been educated among local students most of my life. Where could I have acquired any Japanese traits or been influenced by foreign cultures anyways?

Examples of differences in upbringings, cultural ideologies and family backgrounds did not end there. As the competing season was slowly approaching, we were desperate to find venues to practice our games. The court down on MacDonnell Road near the YWCA center was always occupied. So I volunteered to book the court down below where I lived in South Horizons. The booking fees were very affordable, around 5 HKD for an hour. I wouldn't mind paying for it, of course.

Out of the 20 girls in our class, around 8 to 10 of us were in the class team. That could tell you how competitive the process could be to join the race. Clairol was better than me in almost everything. She had better handwritings; she played basketball better than me; she was taller than me; her grades were better; she spoke better english; she spoke better mandarin, and she confessed that was because her mother was a shanghai native; she was more athletic than me; she was richer than me; she had been to more countries than me; she had a doctor dad and a lawyer mother, impeccable family; she had two sisters and they all loved her. I wouldn't try to beat her in any sort of ways. She was the most perfect human being whom I had encountered in my life. I was not surprised that she was later admitted to Princeton to study chemical engineering as an undergraduate.