With little drama, and a mere two year separation from my mum, dad and I leapt off a Qantas jumbo jet and ran into mum's arms. Truthfully, though, only I ran. Dad was very dignified and did not cause a scene.

I was nine years old. Not old enough to have the typical reserved-ness instilled in me. As years went by, it became clear that being reserved and being Polly never meshed well together.

For a long time after moving here, I tried very hard to be less Chinese. I lost my accent after three months. When I speak to my parents, it is in Mandarin, but very slowly because all my thoughts seem to be in English. To my family, I talk like a retarded kid with a nine-year-old vocabulary.

It wasn't until I finished high school that my warped little head thought it would be cool to be Chinese again. Maybe it's because there were more people of similar extractions at university (c'mon, do you expect an Asian kid not go to uni?).

My attempt to find my roots led me to sign up as a volunteer interpreter at the Sydney Olympics. I love sport. I love talking. It was time to contribute.

Even with my fourth-grade-level vocabulary, I was deemed good enough to mingle with the Chinese athletes. Hilarity ensued.

I worked primarily with the Chinese diving team. The first time was at the FINA Diving World Cup, a pre-Olympic event that was supposed to be a rehearsal for the real thing seven months later. Doping control and media interviews were my main responsibilities. I preferred the latter.

On my second day, I was asked by the language manager to escort the super hunky Tian Liang to doping control. So off goes innocent little Polly into the divers' warm down area to inform the two-time Olympic champion (though at the time he was still up-and-coming but already showing his talent).

I found Tian Liang talking to another Chinese diver (obviously not good-looking enough for me to remember his name). I should also mention that I was in heaven in the warm down area. Naked torsoes everywhere.

Tian Liang saw me walking towards him. He smiled and nodded at me.

"You want me to piss in a bottle, don't you?" he asked in Mandarin.

It took a while before I registered that he had said the word "piss". I muttered in agreement and told him I would meet him across the pool.

[Really, I could turn this into a love story, worthy of Harlequin.]

Fifteen minutes later, we gathered at the doping control area with officials from FINA. An important-looking man, who answered only to Doc, shook Liang's hand for a disturbingly long time.

"Now, Polly, can you tell Tian Liang here that he did very well tonight but he will still have to go through an urine test?" Doc asked.

I relayed the messaged in Mandarin. But in taking care not to miss any words, I spoke even slower than my usual pace. Liang kindly nodded and smiled at my every word.

"Sure," the very obliging young man answered.

"Now, Polly, can you tell Tian Liang that when he goes behind that curtain there, I will follow him. He will be required to take out his penis and urinate in this container here. I will have to have full view of him while he does this," Doc said while I jotted down his words.

I was mortified. Liang had only fifteen minutes ago reminded me how to say "piss" in Mandarin and now I had to say "penis". I had only just turned eighteen. I could barely say the word in English in front of strangers. Liang -- bless him -- kept very calm throughout my trance. At last, Polly spoke.

"He wants you to piss in front of him. And he wants to see you take out your ji ji," I finally said in Mandarin, recalling the word my three-year-old cousin once used to call his wiener.

The multiple world champion and world cup winner did not bat an eyelash. He smiled (or maybe it was a smirk) and followed Doc behind the curtain.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is why Tian Liang is a classy athlete. Later, he even thanked me for my feeble efforts. He commented that I was to the point. Yes, Polly does not beat around the bush. We had a delightful chat while he waited for his coach to pick him up.

Seven months later, I was the interpreter for his interview after he won gold in the ten metre platform. A reporter later told me that she noticed a glint in his eyes as he watched me bluff my way through the interview.

I suppose it was an urine test we both shall not forget.