unlike the romantically slow-moving characters of pocahontas and her golden-haired smith in america in the 1700s, my first sojourn into America involves grease, jet-lag and momentary panic attacks when black people stare at me and my mother. no carefree jaunts through wheat-strewn fields or profound conversations with old grandmother trees, oh no.
taxi driver: here on your left is an antique carousel, from the 1850s.
me: noncommital grunt
taxi driver: well i know the 1850s aren't 'antique' for you, but for us it is! we have only 400 yrs of history.
i should have pointed out that singapore is one tenth the age of his glorious country, and that it isn't in china.
the stereotypes just keep on proving themselves.
oh but i shouldn't say first la hor. if anyone ask me about barack obama i can only say that he is... not white.
i should really stop word-vomiting on my blog.