In Continuum.

Buying Starbucks in Singapore isn't too big a problem, you pick what you want and go to the counter and order exactly that. In Taiwan, however, all the english names are translated into chinese names with characters even I cannot read very well. So there I was at the counter of the Starbucks underneath my place, trying to order a cup of Cafe Latte. I naturally assumed Cafe Latte to be known as Cafe Latte all around the world, and that was exactly what I said to the girl behind the counter, with a little more accuracy in pronunciation and perhaps a tad bit of accent. Her face turned white, blood rushed out from her veins and she looked at me wide-eyed. She was struck by panic, and I could tell from the way she asked me if I wanted it hot or cold. Now, you really couldn't have blamed me for scaring the poor girl, a Latte is a Latte, right? It's not like I went up to her and said, "I'd like a tall Cafe Latte, hot please". All I said was "Cafe Latte", and apparently that was too much for her to handle. I didn't carry on the prank, and I told her that I spoke mandarin, something which she was obviously relieved to hear. Anyway, I really didn't need to be ordering Cafe Latte and then torturing the poor girl at the Starbucks. I was there because Sarah wanted to meet there, the same Sarah whom I haven't met in more than ten years. 

There was a time when coming back to Taiwan had a good reason. There were four other children other than my sister and I, a bunch of kids that hung out under one roof and did children things. You know, console games, role-playing, little adventures through the fields and whatnot. It was the epitome of innocence, something which we have all lost one way or another. You see, life is a series of rooms, and there are a lot of these rooms down this corridor of ours. People populate these rooms every once in a while, but you move on to the next because it is time to do so, or they leave the room because it is time for them to head on in a different direction. It wasn't helped by the fact that we live in different countries, and that my sister and I only really visit Taiwan so many times in a year. So, like so many other people that have came and went in my life, these people also faded into the background and became names I remember only every once in a while when I reminisce on my lost innocence. I've only really remained in contact with Sarah over the years, mostly because she was interested in being an air stewardess and I just so happen to be fairly fluent in my English. Anyway, there were talks the last time I was here about meeting, but somehow things never actually added up. This time, however, I really wanted to make it happen, for reasons that I don't even truly understand. 

But seriously, why not? She happens to live five minutes from where I live in 林口, what are the odds of that happening anyway? From the front door of my place and around the corner at Starbucks, it's a traffic light and then a few more paces before we actually reach her place, so why not? She's working right now as a logistics specialist right down the street, a ten minute ride on her motorcycle and tucked away in a remote corner of the industrial park. We decided to meet for dinner and perhaps a little catching up, something which I hadn't been planning for at all. You would expect awkwardness to take over when you are meeting someone you haven't met in more than ten years, especially when you try too hard to make it work out. So I decided to just let things flow and be myself, see what happens and have an open mind. That calm, however, went out of the window when she appeared on the other side of the glass outside of Starbucks, wearing a denim jacket over a yellow top and long skirts that covered till her ankles. There she was, Sarah, after so many years, still looking the same as the last time we met. 

Sarah has always been the leader of the pack, being the oldest of the group and all. It wasn't difficult to speak to her at all, in fact it was such a breeze that I completely forgot that it has been so long since we even sat that close to each other across the coffee table. So we caught up about our lives, mine in Singapore and hers in the company that she despises with a raging passion. You'd think that whatever happens in The Office was written for dramatic effects, that things like that don't usually happen in a real-life office settling. The truth is, at least for those of us who haven't worked in an actual office before, offices are less funny and even more malicious than the TV show would want you to believe. She spoke to me about malicious co-workers, managers who would speak behind your back, commenting on the thickness of your legs or just putting you down for no apparent reasons at all. Offices are the centers of all evil, it seems, and it has affected her in the deepest ways possible. Whenever she speaks of her working life, you can tell a very genuine sense of distress in her eyes. 

We picked a Japanese restaurant around her place, somewhere cheap and convenient for her and myself. You know the way the older generation would complain about ours, the batch of us born in the 80s. They think that we are weak, and that we give up easily whenever we encounter any obstacles. That is perhaps the only reason why she is still doing what she is doing, despite being almost consumed by the reality of things. That is not to mention the pressure from the family, but don't we all have parents behind our backs, secretly injecting expectations into the back of our heads. She is the first person amongst us in the so-called "real world", and it just makes me feel frightful about my own future too. She made it real, if you know what I mean, the fact that somebody is there now, with the rest of still in university and stuff like that. Suddenly, we are not children any longer, we are about to be a part of the workforce, expected to support ourselves, expected to pay tax, expected to be real adults. Through Sarah, I cannot help but wonder how much of our childish dreams, how much of our teenage aspirations, and how much of our academic goals are going to go out of the window once we do embark on this journey on our own. 

It is funny how I have the strangest memories of certain people, and Sarah probably tops the list in my head. You see, the six of us used to visit an orange farm in the mountains to pluck oranges with our parents. I have some of the fondest memories there, and I am glad that they also involve these admirable people when we were younger. I remember the boys would be plucking the oranges together at a tree, and my sister would be doing the same with somebody else - but not with Sarah. What I remember about her that day at the orange farm was her vomiting blood for some reason. I remember one of the adults telling me that Sarah vomited blood somewhere, and I thought that she was going to die after eating too many oranges or something. You know, we see those people spitting blood right before they die. So I had a false impression that she was going to die - but of course, and thankfully, she didn't. I told her about it on our way to her workplace, and she was rather amused by the fact that I remembered something so random when she couldn't remember anything herself. I suggested that we should all come together someday and piece together this giant puzzle of our childhood. Or, at least have someone else remember the same thing about her vomiting blood that morning. 

We rode her motorbike to her workplace, in which I was forced to wear a strange looking helmet. It has been a while since I rode a motorbike as a passenger, even longer as a rider. The last time was probably behind Aaron's motorcycle, but that was a frightening experience since I have lost so many friends to that accursed vehicle. Riding in Taiwan, however, seems to be a totally different story. Not only do you have to battle the suicidal stray dogs, the vicious drivers, the uneven roads, but you also have to deal with riding your bike in the blistering cold of winter. I asked her how she deals with that, and she said she doesn't know how to deal with it either. We passed by her workplace soon after, a darkened building in the industrial park like a tomb of some sort, swallowing the lives and pride of so many people out there. We eventually got lost circling the place, and the deafening sound of the engine drowned out our voices. Still, we screamed over the sound of the wind, and we spoke of a lot of other things in which I shall let it remain in my memories and her own. 

She gave me a lift back home, and we decided to switch helmets because we both thought we looked better in each others'. In the end, she looked like an ordinary college girl while I looked like an invading spaceman. The photograph below proves that she hasn't aged a day, while I have merely grown upwards and not a day better looking. It's true, I have photographic evidences. It is comforting, in a way, to know that the others are all doing fine in their lives, relatively, and that she is still managing well despite her colleagues from Hell. I mean, we are not children any longer, and most of the people in our lives have become different strangers. It's nice to know, that after a few MSN conversations and a few phone calls, two strangers can come together and become childhood friends all over again, even if we have to look like idiots with helmets.