Accented Ethnicity: Observing Chinese New Year (Part II)
The sun was happily out that day, and I was wearing some cheap black sunnies from The Bay, black wool sweater over black cotton shirt, my trusty black leather jacket, denim pants, and leather shoes. Despite the rising temperature, the wind breeze maintained a 7c, making our body heat dissipate quickly.
Quick long strides towards the entrance. Surprisingly, the people were rowdy, some are ostensively obnoxious, while some in their 5-syllable per second Mandarin, and the rest trying to hold back their reactions for the stench emmanating from a group of people who appears to hate taking a shower. The International Village was littered with stalls whose dewey-type cabinets display various asian products humbly priced at a comfy range of C$10-C$100. For instance there was ”The Ronin” selling a self-mounting brass knife encased in a dragon’s body at C$10. I kept their brochure, which offers an outright discount of 30% upon presentation together with the item you wish to buy. The discount was more than enough to pay the 7% GST + 6% Provincial tax.
A variety show held at the International Village atrium was among the main event in the celebration. A mixed nuts of talent showcase–as there were production numbers which were totally contemporary, which were followed by a traditional dance, then a live band presentation playing an unknown music to me, then returns to semi-traditional presentation again. Surely it was the worst show ever to be hosted by a dear 40’s fellow trying to look neat in his white suit and over-sized leather shoes.
Big events are never without a raffle. Among them would win you a Honda City and another an entertainment showcase. There’s a counter just next to the elevators where you could answer the questionnaire containing 30 trivial questions (info bits from tele-novelas were asked too).
If only I could understand and speak Chinese, I could belong to this crowd. Which makes me really wonder how my perception of my ethnic roots were suddenly obscured when I encounter a culture which is different but not unknown. Am I a product of a pseudo-Chinese culture in Davao? Was it with my association with chinese friends made me think that their culture was part of ours? It struck me most when I felt comfortable mingling with them, when it didn’t really bother if some people thought I was chinese.
A week passed, and I still feel comfortable being a Filipino, introduced as a local of Davao City. For my first few weeks here in Vancouver, it isn’t so much of a shame to be a Filipino–despite receiving cold stares from fellow Filipinos who wouldnt return my smile back.
In a multicultural city such as Vancouver, people’s sense of ethnicity may appear to have dissipated, but I think, it is instant recognition of what’s akin to one’s culture and what isn’t gives Vancouverites a daily reminder of their roots.
