I remember the day as if it was yesterday, June 16, 1971.
I was 15 years old and I was on a Pan Am flight, direct from Hong Kong to San Francisco.
As I marched off the plane I was proud. I had accomplished my first conversation in English. The blond stewardess asked me what I wanted to drink and I understood her well enough to answer, "Coca Cola".
After custom and after picking up my luggage, I met my aunt and uncle who were waiting for me outside the gate. Before I knew it, I was whisked away in the back of a Chevrolet station wagon about the size of a small sampan, elegantly decorated with fake wood side panels.
Coming off the freeway we drove by the majestic Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park. We stopped at a two story Spanish style flat which my aunt and uncle owned, two blocks north of the park.
I had arrived in paradise.