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[Consider this an intermission post as I write using my HTC Desire Z. Thanks to the free wifi at Mikado.]

“Are you American? No? Canadian? No? South American? No?”

“I’m Filipino.”

“Ah…but you sound so American.”

I got that a lot when I moved to Australia nearly seven years ago. Last week in Paris, a shop owner mistook me for a Brazilian or Mexican. When I said I was Australian, I got puzzled looks. Then I said I was originally from the Philippines. And then it sort of made sense to them but they wondered why I didn’t look Chinese. (Yeah, Asian generalisation right there.)

Well really, I am Australian as stated on my passport but I can never escape my ethnicity. I may dye my hair different colours or tan myself silly or even *gasp* use skin whitening agents and still, it would be hard for some strangers to guess where I’m from. I suppose you could say I’m one of the many citizens of the world; born one place and living in another.

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