"LET'S TRADE lunches," a classmate asked, "my bell pepper for your sandwich."

Eight-year-old me was caught off-guard, wishing I had not sat next to her at lunch that day. But I had guessed correctly: she had been eyeing my ham sandwich all along! After a long, awkward silence, I gave my answer. Welcome to my childhood lunch hours.

We moved to Singapore when I was six, and I spent the next six years studying in an international school. My classmates were also expatriates, and like me, we were in Singapore during our early years. Being in an international environment was a unique way of growing up, and from the composition of our class, we might as well have been poster kids for the United Nations. Thus, our lunches were nothing less than an international buffet.

Discovering lunches was an adventure for us. Grade 2 seemed to trigger a fascination with lunches among us. At noon, we would bring out our lunch boxes and take a seat at the lunch table--girls on one side, boys on the other. We would open our boxes, revealing what we were eating that day. This would be quickly followed by oohs and aahs and can-I-have's, subtle hints and outright requests from the hungry mouths of eight-year-olds: That Indian roti must be delicious. Are you going to eat all of your Italian pizza? I've never tried Austalian vegemite before (and sure would love to)!

Every few weeks, we had a lunch party for our class. This involved bringing enough to feed the whole class! There was never any assignment of the usual party foods: hotdogs, spaghetti, sandwiches. Our lunch parties were feasts! We brought in dishes from our own country, made by the moms who knew how to cook them. The myriad of food textures, aromas and colors allowed us to explore as many as 20 cultures in one lunch party. What a feast for our taste buds! This was truly one of the best things about our class--celebrating diversity through food.

And so my polvoron sat next to Indian curry-flavored cheese sticks, Norwegian goat cheese and Korean kimchi. My Japanese classmate, Tatsuya, brought in a plate of sushi and sashimi. Beside it was home-made spicy ice cream that Meghan, my Indian friend, brought. Our Danish classmate Andreas had meatballs, while Marvin the Italian brought an authentic oven-baked pizza. Swedish girls Marie and Julie brought heart-shaped pancakes and the Australian mate Lindsey came with her country's favorite sandwich spread, vegemite.

There was something authentic and, dare I say it, magical about being around such an international array of food. Not only did we bring our homemade dishes to the lunch table, but I'd like to think that each one of us also brought a part of our culture and ourselves.

We celebrated diversity through good food from home, from the hawker center, from the grocery. It was as simple as that, and yet complex when you try to dissect what was really happening. The sharing of food on the table was itself a metaphor for what we were doing with our cultures. My Grade 2 lunches allowed me to experience at least 15 different cultures, and they brought us closer to each other.

Whatever happened to the bell pepper and sandwich trade? I passed on it, saying I had a weak stomach. Not to worry, she said, let's trade next time. But next time never came.

Still I've been left with an anecdote that people find interesting and amusing.

Carmel Valencia, 25, works for a beauty company and has yet to find the courage to eat bell peppers.