So Where Are You From
So Where Are You From
So Where Are You From
I lean towards the taxi window and re-adjust my camera as I try to capture my new
surroundings whilst the driver speeds away. Throughout the ride, the only thing to be heard was
the flashing of my camera as I tried to compose myself with the culture shock I was
experiencing. My eyes cast a trailing gaze at all these strange restaurant names, whilst my
eyebrows form a curious frown at the Melbourne trams- such an unusual form of transportation
for a girl accustomed to taking the MTA bus and subways around New York. I stifle a laugh as
my mind wanders off to a day ago where my family and I were basking in the scorching
Malaysian sun, and how suddenly we were huddled up in a taxi, trying to defrost from the cold
Australian air. The stagnant air was interrupted when our taxi driver cleared his throat and asked,
“So, where are you guys from?” Oh no. Not again. I tend to be quick on my feet and always
willing to strike up a friendly conversation, but this was the one question I never seemed to have
a ready-made, concrete answer to.
My mum was quick to reply “Malaysia” while my dad said “New York.” In the backseat,
my younger brother shrugged his shoulders while I tentatively looked at the taxi driver’s face
which translated to “Do these tourists speak English?” My sister laughed it off and explained the
situation, and how we were here for her graduation. Meanwhile, I shook off the culture shock
and shifted my unease to my uncertain sense of belonging. The dreaded feeling that I shoved in
the back of my mind popped out like an uninvited call, no matter where I was. For me, the
question inquired was the equivalent to “where do you consider home?” This prompted a series
of questions in my head: is home the golden letters stamped on the front of my passport? Is home
where the majority of my family and friends live? Is home the quickest I’ve been able to adapt to
a city? Is home where I feel the most like myself?
As a daughter of a diplomat, I’ve moved to different countries every 2-4 years and have
travelled to 12 countries by the age of 10. This meant that at a tender age, I’ve learnt to be
resilient and quick to adapt to new places, people and practices. However, like any human, I still
experience culture shock: I cautiously walk around the religious offerings scattered on the roads
in Bali, I get confused when I order chips and instead get fries in London, and I struggle to ask
locals for where the nearest toilet is in Czech Republic. However, that’s the beauty of it.
Experience. Culture is the one thing that cannot be taught in school, it’s all learned from personal
experience. Like the saying goes: “travel is the only thing which you can buy, that makes you
richer.” I’ve been fortunate to have a wide spectrum of culture infused in me, which I am forever
thankful for, as it’s made me less ignorant of the world. Having also attended 5 international
schools, I always get different perspectives and ideas from people of different backgrounds,
traditions and beliefs. Unfortunately, this also meant that everything was temporary for me. I’ve
lost touch of friends, I’ve let go of my favorite places and I’ve had to be oceans away from my
family. However, this allows me to be independent, flexible and willing to try new things.
With culture engraved in me since young, I value being open-minded and being self-
aware of all the wonders outside of my personal bubble. I never did have an answer for where
home is for me. But that’s okay. With a whole world inside me and brand new eyes to every
situation, I’ll settle for the answer: home is within me.