The colleague who'd invited me home on Sundays came all the way to my flat the first time round, to show me how to get to her place, which was two or three changes of buses.
The next time, she met me halfway, travelling the last leg with me.
The third time, she came to the bottom of the road to meet me, to walk me to her house down the street.
After that, she said, "Now that you know how to get here, you can do it yourself all the way next time."
So, subsequent trips were made on my own, therefore no pre-arrangement for when / where to meet to get to hers.
After a number of trips, I felt bad about turning up late morning, eating two meals there, every single Sunday, so I thought one Sunday that I'd give it a rest. Well, give THEM a rest from me.
The following day, my colleague asked me at work what had happened to me the day before, why hadn't I turned up. She said they'd been worried that I might've been taken ill or something. (This was 1975. I had to use the public phone in the beauty salon downstairs. My colleague had to use her neighbour's phone.)
She also said that the parents wouldn't let them start on lunch, so they sat around waiting, hungry, then gave up after an hour or two.
I said I hadn't realised that they'd be expecting me, and apologised for having worried them, leaving them in a vacuum as to why I hadn't put in an appearance.
The following Sunday, I called my colleague, via her neighbour's phone, asking if it'd be convenient for them if I were to go to theirs. Yes, she said.
When I arrived, she said, "You look Chinese, yet you behave in a very unChinese way. Nobody rings up beforehand to check if it'd be all right to turn up, they just do."
So that's another cultural mistake I'd made: being so formal as to telephone beforehand and make sure it'd be convenient for the host(s) for me to visit.
(Taiwan, 1975)
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