I grew up in Puerto Rico from early childhood. My family spoke Cantonese at home. I attended Catholic school; my teachers conducted our classes in Spanish, save for our English class. Along with our regular classes like reading and mathematics, they taught religion. Naturally, they taught religion in Spanish; therefore, I learned the Spanish names of the apostles. During one of our grades, they prepared us for our first communion.
In early childhood, I grew up with each foot planted in two different cultures. We spoke Cantonese at home, and along with the language came the culture, though we learned this in a trickle. We didn’t attend an intensive Chinese language program. Instead, we learned our culture much like others hear stories around a campfire. To this day, I don’t know if certain ideas (like aversion to going to bed with wet hair) were strictly my mom’s baggage or a genuine Chinese belief.