Dirk and I was talking over dinner when we mentioned a mutual friend being anxious having to leave home for the first time. Somewhere along that conversation I suddenly remembered I was 19 when I came here. It's been that long. I don't remember much about coping, really, I'm not sure why. I only remember first year was the hardest because I was hopelessly homesick. That was miraculously cured when I went home for summer holiday after first year. Thinking back it must have been an interesting year, so much must have happened that year coz I still chuckle at the thought of certain random little moments. I got on the bus that went in the wrong direction the first day of school because it didn't occur to me the same number bus would go both ways. I went around asking every asian classmate where were they from and felt stupid when they said Canada. I ate porridge for the longest time after I burned my first pot of rice. I waited at the bus station one winter day for 40 mins and thought about all the horror stories about frost bite that my land lady told me. I was trying to survive on 500 dollars per month, after rent and bus pass that left me 120 for food, so I would pack a loaf of bread in my backpack. I used to spend the longest time standing by the BBQ pork stand at the chinese supermarket, craving for the food but thinking that I can't spend 6 dollars/lb (that's 12 bucks RM!) for it and always ended up buying duck wings at 6/dollar. First time I saw soft core porn on late nite tv, which had a hilarious plot - some architect who finds inspiration by sketching portraits of naked women (breast = mosque, go figure) and sleeping with them.

Life then would have been disastrous, I suspect, if it wasn't for the kindness of strangers. I called someone who I barely knew after a week because I desperately needed to speak mandarin and he became a big brother in the years to come. My canadian chinese classmates who started to save me seats at classes. One of them told me recently he still remember that oversize blue sweater I wore the first time he saw me. Their parents who fed me from time to time. Malaysian friends who fed me. The guy at the chinese supermarket who sometimes threw in an extra duck wing for me.

If I made it for home next CNY it'd have been a decade since I last celebrated that at home. If my parents were lucky I would have brought back a baby as a present. I think I'll just buy them a shirt instead.