Day Seven: A race through San Francisco

Updated: Jun 21, 2019

By Judy Ly, June 16, 2019

“Be ready to jump her if she runs away with the camera,” Joe said to the group as Camille handed her camera to a stranger to take a group photo of all of us.

Rewinding to this morning, I scrambled into the car with half a cold bao in one hand and my bag in the other. Entering the campus, I immediately saw basically every Mosaic student in the lobby. We received our train tickets and off to the tracks we went.  

On the upper floor of the train — which by the way, I never thought about a train having more than one floor — Ruth whipped out a deck of cards. Camille was really good at recognizing when I lied during BS and Ruth was faster than all of us during Slapjack; I inevitably slapped her hand a couple of times as I was always seconds behind her.  

During lunchtime, Melissa and I went out of the Westfield Centre on our mission to find a meal of “SF origins.” Quickly going on Yelp, I found a nearby Boudin Bakery that had clam chowder bread bowls.

After a short discussion with a perfume salesman and a Macy's security guard, we found our way to the lower floor of Macy’s. Midway through lunch, I realized I had no idea what mall we exited. We retraced our steps and ended up on an oddly familiar looking block, only we didn’t know where to go from there. With Sunay’s help over the phone, Melissa and I scurried back down the streets with Old Navy and Michael Kors stores. We succeeded in finding the group just on time.  

Wearing tight cargo pants, I was ready to take on Joe [Rodriguez]’s mighty challenge (the Westfield stairs race). Not even five seconds after Joe said start, I was body-slammed and tripped. I also accidentally skipped two steps out of fear of falling. The results: Paulo took first place and I tied in second place with Ruth.  

In the chilly afternoon, we roamed through Chinatown and the stores it has to offer. I went out of my way to ask the receptionist of a store where we could find egg tarts. I indeed wanted some egg tarts, but I really wanted to practice my native language. While my linguistic skills are very limited to those of a talkative 8-year-old, I had to take advantage of being around Cantonese speakers as it is hard to find them in my own community.  

On the way back home, my dad asked me what I was writing about, which took me by surprise because we don’t really talk like that. The first thing that popped into my head was my editor telling me I should be able to ace the “Mom Test.” I think I was able to pass decently.

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