111 - My maternal grandparents

Eighteen years and seven months ago, I was born in Hong Kong. My aunt accompanied my mother back to my grandparent's apartment, the 4th flat on the 7th floor. Our family has had 704 for over forty years. That place is not just home to them, but is home to all eight of their daughters too. After my parents got divorced, it became my home.

Somewhere along the way, I had the opportunity, or experience, of living with my father, which turned out to be rather awesome. While he was at work, I spent time with his personable wife and his three fun-loving, laid-back daughters. Dad's house (or Dad's houses as he always moved a lot) was home to me too.

Somewhere along the way, I attained, as lame as it sounds, what you could only describe as a 'best friend'. His parents know me, and trust me, his younger brother knows he can call me in times of trouble. I call their humble Filipino family my home as well.

Somewhere along the line, my mother moved out of my grandparents' apartment, in an act of great motherly sacrifice, to give me my own room - her room - as I was finally becoming a very demanding teenage boy. I've stayed at the place she now owns, and I also call it one of my homes.

Although I had all of these places for my choosing, the one place I always went back to at the end of the night, the home I yearned for when I had other obligations throughout the night, was always my grandparents' apartment. The sense of familiarity and familial attachment, I feel, was mutual. My grandparents wanted me at their place every night as well.

In the weeks leading up to my departure from Hong Kong, I could feel a general sense of internal struggle and hardship every time I was around them. I was working a bartending job too, that often meant I had to leave before lunch time and not return until late in the night. I barely even spoke to them for eighty percent of the summer holiday.

In the final two weeks I was in Hong Kong, I was often waiting for the moment when I would start crying like a baby, missing everything, wanting to stay, suddenly hating the idea of coming to England. I guess I built it up too much in my head that I had tired the emotions out. I remember I cried about leaving my mother's side, and as I sit here typing this, I actually cry. All the emotions that I had when I was alone in my room as I was still going to high school all come back to me the minute I think about it. I cried about my dad. I cried about leaving my 4-year-old cousin. I cried about leaving my job. I cried about leaving my best friend.

But when it finally came to the moment I had to take one last look at my room in 704, I didn't cry at all. I had already shared my final conversations with all of classmates, all of my friends, all of my coworkers, and pretty much all of my family.

And then as I was heading out the door, my grandparents were standing there in the corridor, waiting to send me off. And I could see the bittersweetness that rested in their eyes. I'm crying at the moment, because the love I get from them is so surreal to me, it's so incredible, it's so unbelievable. You would typically think there was a generation gap, and quite frankly there is, and we did not share anything much in terms of conversation or material gifts, but the one thing we did share was that apartment, and our time living together.

In the thirteen weeks I was having my summer break, I had not wept at all. But it was in that moment when my grandmother looked at me with teary eyes, telling me to study hard, make sure to eat healthy, and most important of all, be good, I finally found what what would strike my heart. My grandfather, at the door, told me to put in my best effort at university, and also, to be good.

The simplest lessons you learn in life are the least eloquently expressed, but are said by the wisest people. The words they share are like dying words to me, and it's so sad to think of it like that, but that's the truth. Both are over seventy years old, both have medical issues of their own.

And to hear them say things like that really touches my heart in a uniquely confusing way.

I took the elevator down from the 7th floor.

I put my luggage in the boot of the car and then got in.

I opened the window, and stuck my head out the window to get my last look at them. I waved goodbye until the car went round the bend and a building blocked them from view.

Today, I just received a box with Christmas presents from my 1st aunt, 4th aunt, 8th aunt, and my mother. I was grateful for the gifts, and I loved seeing my mother's handwriting on the cards explaining what everything was and who it was from.

At the bottom of the box, I found a jumper and a card next to it, and it turns out it was from my grandmother. She wrote 'Merry Christmas' in Chinese, and her traditional style of calligraphy was always so distinctive, and it made me picture her writing the card. That's what triggered the idea to talk about this here... I miss my home, so much. I miss my grandparents so much. I can talk to my parents and my friends whenever I want, but I can't talk to them because they don't know how, and it drives me crazy...

Ohh... let me get myself together...

Ahem. Well, my aunts are going to set up a webcam chat thing with them on Christmas Day, so I'll see my beloved grandparents then. It's just been a very hectic final week of university, and I reckon I'm a little stressed out. Good thing I get to sleep tonight without worrying about handing in any assignments.

Crying's good for the soul, it really is. When was the last time you cried?

101 - On comfort, complacency and contentness

I'm not going to lie - I miss home. I miss the food especially, the clubbing district, and doing something everyday with my friends or either one of my parents. It seems that everybody I know is going to go back to Hong Kong this winter holiday, leave their university lives in Canada, the US and the UK, and go back to my home city for Christmas and New Year's break.

My return flight to Hong Kong is scheduled for July 10th, and although that is a long while away from today, I look at it in the following way.

The anticipation of my return had been building up, and will continue building up, and the longer I'm away from home, the more excited I get to actually go back, I look forward to going home, but I'm not moaning about it, asking God why it's not happening sooner. I know the truth is that I'm staying here, I've accepted it, I'm not letting it bother me, and I'm looking at it in a positive way.

I've discovered that I've grown up a lot since four or five years ago. I like the way in which I approach relationships, schoolwork, life, the social scene, and tough decisions when they arise. In a way, I'm not troubled by anything, I'm not worried and I'm confident in the way I handle things. I don't need reassurance from others, I don't need to depend on anyone else to keep me elevated. I elevate myself to a psychological, emotional state that is comfortable, complacent, and content.

Feels good, like nobody can touch me. Hah.

96 - On my first time in London

So, last weekend, I went to spend some time with my old friends in London. It was great to see them again, and to do so in London, the capital of the United Kingdom. When I was in Hong Kong, I remember dreaming about the times I would have in University College London (UCL), but unfortunately, I didn't achieve good enough results to attend UCL, and so I settled for the University of Kent in Canterbury instead. It's okay because Canterbury has proven to be an okay place to study too, just a bit far away from all the fun, interesting things that they have to do in London. It's costly to get there and come back, but I thought that it was a good trip regardless.

I loved the British Museum, as I knew I would. I remember actually being there once before, with my mother four years ago when we went on a tour through Europe. We only walked through one level before, though, so it was good to finally explore all the galleries slowly. My mother never really knew how to appreciate the history of artifacts and such, although, she does have a strong liking for the Statue of David and any other Renaissance sculptures made of white marble. She likes the art, which I guess is the main thing, but she knows little of the actual background to each piece.

I'm also quite fond of the statues, but the Greek and Roman antiquities are my favorite. Although Greek pottery may not appeal to everyone, I personally could spend all day standing there, comparing the Greek myths, in writing, to what's actually depicted by the black-figures on the reddish-brown vases.

The nightlife in London resembles that of Hong Kong, only bigger, noisier, more crowded, and more versatile. I quite like the atmosphere, so I think I'll be going back there.

Food is also better there, as there's more variety and quality to it. Although I didn't buy anything to eat from Camden Market, it looked like a buffet of multinational cuisine. Looked like a great place to shop, as well.

All in all, not a very exciting trip, but a trip nonetheless, and a good break from studying. I love seeing my old friends so much, and wish I could see them everyday, and there's something about hugging them once again that's different from simply communicating with them online that makes it a whole lot better. I miss my friends in Hong Kong, especially my best friend. Next summer, I'm going to make up for it hopefully.