Wednesday, 1 February 2012
I've liked Super Junior since before I left Singapore, which would mean I've liked them since 2007. The bad part about living up in the frozen north of Sweden is that it is (surprisingly) very far from Asia and my island home. I have no fellow Asian to profess my love of Rain to or ask to borrow their Jay Chou cd or commiserate over the lack of imperial costume dramas. (Oh, Young Warriors, you will always be in my heart. Especially you, Seventh Son.) That's why I am grateful for youtube where I can watch kevjumba and nigahiga and happyslip and episodes of Phua Chu Kang and feel not quite so bad about being far away from all things really familiar.
There is always the possibility that I get stuck in the "white guy speaks fluent cantonese" section of youtube and start into fits of jealousy over my own linguistic incompetence, wishing I too could speak with a local's flair. Did you know that I grew up thinking I had an American accent? Before you pffft away, do realize that every Asian who met me assumed that my accent, acquired from American and Canadian teachers and classmates, was as American--as red, white, and blue--as it could be. I shake my head foolishly now at my naivety. Little did I know. Stepping off the plane and onto the soil of the land of the free and the home of the brave, I was quickly put right by the curious Yanks. "Where are you from? You've got an accent."
Ah, c'est la guerre. What can you do? I shrug my shoulders in French and smile wryly. Forever the foreigner in America, forever the American everywhere else.