Friday, February 05, 2010

Identity.

This is a confession of a massage addict.
I'm not sure when it started, but I think my hook-up initiated from some traditional Chinese treatment that resulted extreme bruising. And ever since then, I'd became a masochist.
One thing I like about going to the shops is that most of the parlors are operated by Chinese. And sometimes by speaking in Mandarin, they'd think I'm also from China. Sometimes my Mandarin would give away my Malaysian identity. So you can say that it has become a test for my Mandarin skill. Now I've managed to obtain a 75% success rate from getting detected.

The interesting thing I found out recently, is that after they asked how long I've been in Melbourne they'd followed up with a question: ' So have you obtained your identity? '

The first time I had no clue. But what they meant was Australian PR. From a Chinese's point of view, you have no identity in Australia until you've been given permanent residency.
Sometimes I wanted to tell them, ' Well even if you have PR... '

But I was in disguise as a Chinese and all I could do was nod along.