Bhangra, saris and palak paneer: a tale of a sari and acceptance
My friend, Aditi, whose family is from Punjab, India invited me to her brother’s wedding reception.
My friend, Aditi, whose family is from Punjab, India invited me to her brother’s wedding reception.
Newly landed in Vancouver, I remember the remarks I heard before my departure from Montreal.
On the morning commute, or indeed whenever I ride the SkyTrain, I am struck by the image of the many hands clasping the central stand for support.
It never happens to me, but it did happen.
Three countries represent different stages of my life: the Philippines, Japan and Canada.
Before arriving in Vancouver, an abundance of googled images of the city flooded my mind.
Ní hǎo mā? I fumbled over the basic greeting in Mandarin for the third time.
Lotus Land, Raincouver, Vansterdam – you probably already know all of Vancouver’s nicknames.
Raised in a rich and predominantly white town in the southern interior of B.C., I was not often exposed to other races and cultures while growing up.
It’s been just over eleven months since my family and I landed in Vancouver.
My feet had hardly touched the ground in Vancouver after a decade long absence before I was inundated with the phrase: “British Columbia.
When I look closely, I see a variety of people and cultures in many places – on university campuses, while travelling and in social settings.
At my high school, curious teachers and classmates sometimes ask me, “What language do you speak at home? English or Mandarin?”
I tell them I speak both.