Strangers in a strange land
The letters page of one of the local newspapers is hosting a largely predictable series of letters complaining about immigrants. Most of it's just comparatively harmless whinging - "loud, animated conversations in foreign languages" in the food court, OH NOES - which don't really clamour for a response.
One consistent note, though, struck me, because I can relate to it. From one letter:"I do feel like an alien in my own country when I go to Eastwood and so, therefore, I avoid shopping there... I feel out of place and intimidated."
I've been visiting the nearby suburb of Eastwood for over a decade, mostly to see various doctors, but also to pillage the Asian supermarkets for vegetarian and foodie ingredients (and, more recently, stationery from Morning Glory). Over that time, it's fair to say the suburb has become more conspicuously Korean and Chinese - more signs, more shops.
Despite so many visits, I still occasionally feel a bit peculiar as I rummage through the dumplings. Do I look like an idiot as I slowly trawl the aisles? Do I seem like - am I in fact a Koreaboo, a fetishist, a fake? Am I intruding on a space which is usually comfortably free of the not always welcoming surrounding culture? Do I, in short, stick out like a sore thumb?
The thing is, in all these years, not one person has ever made me feel unwelcome - not one shopkeeper or random person on the street. A couple of weeks ago I summoned my courage and stepped into a Korean restaurant for only the second time, to be greeted by the whole staff with a hearty "어서 오세요!", and given helpful explanations of some of the more mysterious side dishes.
But for the most part, no-one bats an eyelid at me. My feelings of awkwardness or alienness are just that - my feelings. So while I can sympathise with other Anglos who feel intimidated, for me, Eastwood is, well, fun.
(I started writing this in dreamer-easy, then realised it really belonged here. Over there, I'm making weekly postings about Australia's continuing mistreatment of refugees.)
One consistent note, though, struck me, because I can relate to it. From one letter:"I do feel like an alien in my own country when I go to Eastwood and so, therefore, I avoid shopping there... I feel out of place and intimidated."
I've been visiting the nearby suburb of Eastwood for over a decade, mostly to see various doctors, but also to pillage the Asian supermarkets for vegetarian and foodie ingredients (and, more recently, stationery from Morning Glory). Over that time, it's fair to say the suburb has become more conspicuously Korean and Chinese - more signs, more shops.
Despite so many visits, I still occasionally feel a bit peculiar as I rummage through the dumplings. Do I look like an idiot as I slowly trawl the aisles? Do I seem like - am I in fact a Koreaboo, a fetishist, a fake? Am I intruding on a space which is usually comfortably free of the not always welcoming surrounding culture? Do I, in short, stick out like a sore thumb?
The thing is, in all these years, not one person has ever made me feel unwelcome - not one shopkeeper or random person on the street. A couple of weeks ago I summoned my courage and stepped into a Korean restaurant for only the second time, to be greeted by the whole staff with a hearty "어서 오세요!", and given helpful explanations of some of the more mysterious side dishes.
But for the most part, no-one bats an eyelid at me. My feelings of awkwardness or alienness are just that - my feelings. So while I can sympathise with other Anglos who feel intimidated, for me, Eastwood is, well, fun.
(I started writing this in dreamer-easy, then realised it really belonged here. Over there, I'm making weekly postings about Australia's continuing mistreatment of refugees.)