Monday, August 8, 2016

a true story

Lieber Nikki,

Hui and I walked into a Doner - Berlin Turkish kebab shop this evening. The queue was long. Finally I reached to the food bar. The guy behind the counter asked me in not so eloquent English: "You, Japanese?" 

"No" I smiled and shook my head. 
"Ugh? Where you from?"
"Australia"
"Australia?! No. No. Where are you really from?"

I became silent. Again, I was seeking for a clever answer and approperiate response to the question and assertion regarding to my nation/cultural identity that I had given many times in my life. Surprisingly till now, I still hadn't had an immediate answer. 

I looked at him without a word. His naivety seeped through his confused and smiling face. He probably wouldn't give a second thought on the meaning of the words, such as, Japanese, Australian and Germany, although he was eager to use one on me - a stranger.

"I", he pointed with his hands to himself. "from Turkey. Now living in Berlin. You?"

He was waiting. 

I need my food. I should give my approval of his denial of my Australian identity. "Ok. My family is from China."

"China? Not Japanese?"

"No."

He looked seemingly more satisfied and passed my food to me. 

The drifting feeling was retrieved from my heart again. 





Missing home! 

Siying Zhou 
Berlin

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Beginning

Dear Siying,

This feels like a love letter, and you a pen-pal. But I guess it's good to start things off with a gentle touch, since the topics we're about to discuss are not so gentle.



                                Distance. Dislocation. Disorientation... and the in-between. 



It is violent really. I feel torn when I re-locate. Like my senses have been tainted, words distorted, identity re-defined. 

Like sitting on the beach at twilight, catching the last glimpse of the anxious waves. Enveloped by complex emotions yet you feel so calm. It gets darker and darker, until you can see no more. 
You hear the waves as your heart pounds. So many feelings yet there is nothing to see but darkness. And there you are, alone with your anxieties to belong when there is no place for you. 
The in-between. The limbo. 

Your mind wanders. Perhaps off to a better place. It reminds you of a place from the past. Nostalgia settles in, occupying the space in your head... 

This is the state of mind I'm in, when I drown in the complexity of my own identity crisis... 



Heavy stuffs. (sorry)

Best,
Nikki


Fo Tan, Hong Kong, February 2015