Watching Magic Kimono while waiting to start work, I ponder my recent fascination with South-East Asia. I am a perfect example of the role ignorance plays in racism.
I visited Singapore in my twenties, but I didn’t enjoy it the way I had enjoyed all my travels until then. It was my first Asian country. I don’t remember paying much attention to its people. Unlike the people who welcomed me in other countries, Singaporeans didn’t seem real to me then, but rather part of a world that felt totally alien, completely different from mine, so instead of embracing the opportunity of getting to know them I watched them always from afar. My 1970s–80s Spanish upbringing had given me very little contact with that world.
And yet, I had always been drawn to Asian traditional architecture and spirituality, and to their communion with the natural world — probably a result of my love for early manga and anime, also thanks to one of the first books I ever read (though written by a Westerner): The Good Earth. A story about the life of a family in rural China in the early 20th century. I even asked my parents to decorate my ample childhood room like a Japanese abode. All I got was a paper balloon lamp and a mattress on the floor *sighs*.
Who knows what my life would have been like if I had ever considered migrating East instead of North. I know, I know — it’s pointless looking at the past that way. Just curiosity, not regret.
I am pleased I am getting to know more about our Asian brothers and sisters at last, even if it took me nearly a lifetime to do.
Happy Sunday all.
xx
Lu
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