When I was a skinny little girl with sun-kissed skin and tiny curly pigtails, I sought adventure in the neighborhoods of Sri Lanka. I would jump off my school bus to bombard my grandmother, who waited for me at the gate, with ideas of what I planned to do with my friends that evening. As a third-grader, my mind was more occupied with playtime than studies. So, at around four o'clock, I gulped down my milky evening tea as I got ready to run over to my friend’s house across the lane, eager to play. My friends and I loved our neighbor next door, Aunt Julia, since she took very good care of her mandarin trees and never noticed how we some would go missing from time to time. I would slowly peak over the brick wall as my friend picked me up to see if our neighbor was around watering her precious plants. After confirming a clear coast, we would pick the ripest and juiciest mandarins, making sure to leave some so our neighbor doesn’t get suspicious. That was our secret to never getting caught. Patting our backs for yet another successful mandarin hunt, we climbed on top of a wall right by the street in front of my friends’ house and enjoyed our mandarin harvest whilst singing to our neighbors passing by. As the sun set, I would return home yawning, my pigtails that once looked neat and cute now looking electrocuted.

One rainy and thunderous evening, as I was sipping my hot evening tea, smiling underneath the teacup, thinking about how perfectly milky it was. My mother sat next to me and said, ‘get ready to pack your things soon’. At first, I grinned with widening eyes as I assumed it meant that we were going somewhere faraway, another road trip perhaps. However, I was only right about one part of this assumption, which was that we were going somewhere far away. Upon learning that this far-away place was Hong Kong, I was perplexed. ‘Why are we going there?’, I asked, squinting my eyes and raising my eyebrows. My mother explained to me how it was a “better” place to live. Then I paused and imagined a “better” place than where I was. For a brief moment, I pictured a large treehouse in a jungle surrounded by fields of mandarin trees which made me jump to my feet. Every day after receiving news about moving to Hong Kong, I would pester my mother to tell me something about this “better” place after which she taught me to count from 1-10 in Cantonese.

Days ticked by like in a time-lapse video until it was time for me to go. I woke up that day, brushed my teeth, got dressed and impatiently sat on the couch and watched my parents moving the luggage out of the house. I was infected by their bustling movement and found my toes starting to wiggle, but this soon stopped as I was handed my precious tea with extra milk by my grandmother. Though I felt numb to the idea of finally leaving, I suddenly had the urge to look at my grandmother who sat next to me drinking her tea before glancing over at the photo frames by her side capturing me and my friends goofing around at a birthday party. Something felt different, my breathing became heavy, I was fidgeting and tapping my fingertips against my knee. “Did you check your room to see if anything is left behind?”, my mother asked to which I responded by saying “I forgot to check”. That was one of the few times I lied to my mother. The other lies were all about how I got my mandarins; she still thinks that Aunt Julia gives them to us because she just has too many of them. Anyway, I went to my room and sat on the bed, feeling the soft mattress and trying to take a deep breath which now felt impossible. My grandmother came in and sat next to me. “I will come and see you very soon my dear”, she said to me whilst stroking my hair. I couldn’t find words to reply since tears started running down my warm cheeks.

As I got on the plane, I had already stopped crying. All of the new experiences of checking in at the airport, boarding the flight and seeing people from various countries aroused a sense of excitement in me. I was excited to see my mandarin jungle, but little did I know about the kind of jungle I was about to step into.

After landing in Hong Kong, I remember waking up in a hotel room with my head spinning. It was 8pm when we got ready to head out for dinner. As I walked out of the hotel, my jaw dropped upon seeing the neon lights up above me and I grabbed my mother's hand tightly. I felt I was being crushed in between all the people walking along the street. We made our way through a maze of streets before sitting down at the restaurant. It smelled unfamiliar, I couldn’t read the menu and wondered why people were eating with sticks when eating with hands was so much easier. My mind was racing with so many questions, yet my lips were glued shut and I kept my head down to avoid eye contact with the staff in the restaurant, only taking a peek from the side of my eyes. However, as we walked back to our hotel, a spark of joy ignited within me when I saw mandarins at the market. My parents bought me some, and instantly I was reminded of the treehouse which made me excited to see my new home.

The next day, I woke up and drank my tea which did not taste like the tea I had back in Sri Lanka. It was the first time I did not finish my tea and I couldn’t tell what was different about it. I hoped that the night before was just a dream and that when I leave the hotel again, it would be like how I imagined it, the treehouse in a jungle surrounded by mandarin trees. With this wish in mind, I left the hotel heading to my new home. Once outside, I felt that sensation of being crushed once again as we walked through the streets. This new and “better” place was definitely a jungle, but it was a jungle made of rows and rows of buildings.

My new home was one of several hundred in one estate, there were no brick walls I could peak through to look for mandarins. As we settled in at our new home, I was no longer skinny or sun-kissed and my hair was no longer in neat little pigtails. Regardless, I had my mandarins in abundance in the markets of Hong Kong although I wished I could have picked them. As I followed my mother during her shopping trips, I saw many others who seemed to enjoy mandarins as they carried red bags filled with them. With this sight, I knew that one day I too shall enjoy the mandarins in Hong Kong like I used to in Sri Lanka.