from dumplings to bakso

(photography by mark e dyer, 2008, flickr.com)

last week, i rolled onto my stomach, rested my chin upon our Ikea cottoned pillow, and sighed out loud. 'i feel fuzzy,' i whined to my indifferent boyfriend, lost in the world of Romance of The Three Kingdoms. I see the broad shell of his physique, long and lean, but his soul was a thousand years away from me, trapped in a battlefield of witty men and worn horses.

the roll of the actors' tongues as they conversed in their native beijing accent accentuated my giddiness. 'ugh...I FEEL FUZZY...' i declared once again, a pitch higher. 'what's wrong?' i managed to garner the slightest response though his eyes were still fixed on the screen of his laptop.

too lazy to explain, i let his faint concern linger in the chilly winter's night air - simmering the answer to that question in my own head, silently. I felt fuzzy because of the sudden cultural clashes i'm facing within my social circle. several months back, i was hanging out (unavoidably but not unwillingly) with mainland chinese, tuning my lingo and brushing on my mandarin in order to be understood. a crash course on the so-called 'mainland chinese' culture had me watching their reality tv programs (快乐男生, 非诚勿扰） catching up on interesting but mostly weird happenings on www.mop.com - their one-all stop for anything juicy and sensational news. It also sometimes meant tapping into their social networking site - xiaonei 校内. plus, due to the nature and interest of my mainland chinese boyfriend - my chinese cultural crash course was made up of mostly historical and cultural issues - that meant sleeping to the monotonous sound of a professor giving a talk on 百家讲坛。

however, the past month has seen my social circle shifting towards a group of indonesian youths after landing myself in an indonesian church. and coincidentally, i started drawing to indons like a magnet. the force of nature had me crossing paths with one indon after another, and as if God's hands were at work, they were all Christians, from one church or another.

from dumplings to bakso, my ability to strike up a conversation with someone from wuhan to medan made me fully appreciate the cultural diversity i had grown up in which i believe, had made me transcend from one culture to the other quite smoothly. language also made a very huge contribution. but more than that, it was the ability to connect to them with the faintest understanding of their cultural makeup that allowed that connection to happen. although you can argue that the degree of such acquaintance was no way substantial enough to crystallized my understanding of their culture, nor would it be enough for me to be fully accepted as 'one of them', but at least i've got one foot inside the door. and as a journalist, that's one heck of a skill to possess, to get your foot into the door of someone's heart before they are willing to open up to you.

however, sometimes the abrupt shift from lingo to the other, can make me feel a little fuzzy and forces me to question the authenticity of my cultural identity. who am i? what does being a malaysian mean? am i a malaysian, or a malaysian chinese? does me being a malaysian draw me closer to my indonesian counterparts, and me being a chinese draw me closer to my chinese counterparts? and what if the two coincides, will they come into conflict with one another, or will they subsist in harmony? will i be able merge both cultural identities, whilst maintaining their uniqueness and distinctiveness at the same time?

and while i ponder on those questions, i have decided to enroll myself in a Japanese language class. not casually, but seriously and academically.