'I didn't feel Chinese at all. I mean, who's more Chinese - them or me?' she said afterwards as she recounted their stories from the mainland - the ones they told in English, that is.

When she arrived back at her flat that evening, she called her best friend in Canada to talk about the strange mix of feelings she had experienced earlier in the day.

'It took some white girl in Canada to remind me - and convince me - that I was still more 'Chinese' than they were.

'That was so strange. She had to remind me that I was a success in my own right because I had the choice to come to Hong Kong, while my relatives never had the same choices that I've had.

'But how was I supposed to feel? Those Westerners assumed I understood every word.

'If my parents knew I was in that situation, they would have hauled me right back into Chinese school.' When I retold this story to a friend - a Westerner who did not speak Chinese - he could not empathise.

'Well, obviously she is more 'Chinese' than they are.

'Look at her history, her ethnic roots, her family and ancestors,' he said.

'Don't those count for anything?' My friend agreed that such factors did count, but she also believed in an idea voiced by writers and other people who had given the matter some thought: 'Identity is no longer a matter of definition, it's a matter of choice.' Like other overseas Chinese, my friend has considered the value of taking a year-long hiatus from her job to study Putonghua intensively on the mainland - in part, to help cure this identity crisis that plagues her every so often.

While no doubt worthwhile, we have both agreed our sense of financial security is still too new to give up for the experience of language immersion, even if the money would be spent on a skill that would serve us well both professionally and personally in the future.

University loans, debts to parents, and marriage expenses are the financial obligations my friends are trying to meet.

Alternatively, taking language lessons while working full-time is an option.

This, however, requires a level of discipline not everyone is prepared to give, and some consider it a process too slow to be worth their while.

Some people also prefer to be immersed in the culture and lifestyle, rather than having the learning be limited to a classroom.

There are exceptions of course. Occasionally, I hear about a person who has become fluent by dedicating several hours a week, holing themselves up with their language tapes and books, or spending their early waking hours with a tutor.

Still, the more pressing debate is about which language to learn. This applies to both Westerners and overseas Chinese who work in Hong Kong, whose jobs have never demanded that they have knowledge of either language.

Many overseas Chinese speak Cantonese at a conversational level, if at all, and can perhaps scrape by with their beginner-level Putonghua.

When Hong Kong people are asked their opinion, there does not appear to be a consensus.

Many people argue that mastering one's first language should be the priority, while others say that overseas Chinese should get hustling on the language lessons that will matter more in the future - Putonghua.

On the phone, my friend recalled an observation of an Indian writer, whom she quoted in a university essay and which holds greater truth for her now than when she first used it: 'There is a way of being in and of a place only through language.'