Separate realities
I was talking to my girlfriends. There were 6 of us, all of the same age except for one, who is 3 years older. We've been friends for 4 years now, so naturally we have shared with each other our thoughts, feelings, stories and struggles as we moved from being university students to recent graduates, to our first jobs, our second jobs, our third jobs, big moves, small moves, relationships, break-ups, and now some serious consideration for marriage. In other words, we have been friends since our early 20s, when all of us started going through changes and transitions into the adult world, and phases of figuring out who we are and what we want to do with our lives.
So we were chatting, just like usual. Or not so much like usual, because we rarely get everyone at the same place and same time these days. Besides me staying in Canada, one girl is living in SG, and another has just returned from Europe. And someone mentioned a cheap flight ticket, a planned trip to Cambodia near the end of the year and some other travel destinations. I added that I wanted to go to Caribbean islands some day. I told them a good package deal for a week flying from Canada. No one said anything, and the conversation quickly returned to Cambodia. My voice died out. The feeling is so familiar. It tastes bittersweet all over again. Here I am, talking to people I thought are so close and know me so well, yet I can't participate in the group conversation, and they can't relate to what I say.
The same situation has happened a countless number of times in Canada, both in classroom discussions and everyday conversations. Usually people talk about things I either don't know, or have nothing to say. When I do contribute some lines, no one follows up, everyone pauses for a few seconds, probably trying to find some words to fill in the silence, gave up eventually, and picked up from whatever was being discussed before I raised my voice. As if I didn't exist, or I didn't belong.
I hate this patterns, yet I see it repeating all the time. I often blame the distance between me and others in Canada for a lack of cultural knowledge, or local understanding from both sides. It's not about the language we speak, I understand them perfectly, but always I feel like my position as a foreigner coupling with the fact that very few Canadians know what Vietnam is besides the war leaves little in common between us. Many times, after I introduce myself, the other person would later ask "So what's the weather like in Taiwan?" or "Do you like the food from Singapore you can find here?" obviously having completely forgotten a name of a country that doesn't make sense to them.
But in fact, the same thing happens when Im home, with people I have always assumed to know me so well. And not for the first time, but it still hurts like the first. Indeed, I have watched many of my deep and strong friendships wither every time I came home and realized I had less and less in common with my friends, who of course were going in different directions. That used to bother me a lot. Then I got used to it, and grew to accept that I would not have the same friends when I returned as when I left. I would have to make new friends. Or so I thought.
My life in Canada and my life in Vietnam don't intersect. There is no crossing point between the two except myself. They are separate spheres, I leave one to enter the other. Every time I came home, I felt like all the years I had spent in that distant country vanished like a dream. A dream I had some faint memory of, but did not connect with the reality I would be living at home. The same thing happens whenever I went to Canada. It's almost like a costume, before putting one on, I have to take the other off, then live accordingly to the costume I am having over myself. They are not simply two places I move back and forth, they are two different realities.
I remember when I went home after I graduated from Trent, thinking I would not be back in Canada anytime soon, if at all. I took a shower in my bathroom, and the faucet was exactly the same way it was when I left. I needed to tilt it a little bit in a crooked position to stop the flow. It was like that moment linked directly to the last time I took a shower before I left for Canada. And suddenly, those four years seemed so unreal and irrelevant. They were almost a dream that I woke up from, as if I had never been there.
And now, I realized that because the people in my life in Vietnam don't know anything about Canada, or living abroad for that matter, I am a fish out of water in both places. And the people I come into contact with in Canada, have no idea about living in Vietnam. Neither here nor there, the same old feeling still lingers. I don't have a relative who migrated before me, an aunt or an uncle who my parents and my grandparents know and can relate to. For them, the Canadian friends I tell them about are just names, foreign names that don't really ring any bell in their heads. They can't imagine the manner, the way of life, the customs, and of course the weather.
One of the girls in our group tonight asked me, when we were waiting to cross a busy street, if Canada has distinct seasons like Vietnam does. And I exclaimed "Of course, the seasons there are way more distinct than what we have here!". So when I mentioned Caribbean islands, they were quiet for a few seconds, and resumed their discussions on Cambodia. Just like if I mentioned I went to Nha Trang, my friends in Canada would not know what to say.
Then the thought about two separate realities came up. I turned to a girl sitting next to me and started explaining "You know, I feel like my life in Canada and my life here don't connect...." She didn't say a word. Another girl turned to us "What is that headache-causing topic you are rumbling about?" She stared at me, and turned away.
That moment, I felt so out of place. And it hurt even more because I was with my people, my friends, my born-in-the-same-year girls.
I was so sad, so sad I could cry.
So we were chatting, just like usual. Or not so much like usual, because we rarely get everyone at the same place and same time these days. Besides me staying in Canada, one girl is living in SG, and another has just returned from Europe. And someone mentioned a cheap flight ticket, a planned trip to Cambodia near the end of the year and some other travel destinations. I added that I wanted to go to Caribbean islands some day. I told them a good package deal for a week flying from Canada. No one said anything, and the conversation quickly returned to Cambodia. My voice died out. The feeling is so familiar. It tastes bittersweet all over again. Here I am, talking to people I thought are so close and know me so well, yet I can't participate in the group conversation, and they can't relate to what I say.
The same situation has happened a countless number of times in Canada, both in classroom discussions and everyday conversations. Usually people talk about things I either don't know, or have nothing to say. When I do contribute some lines, no one follows up, everyone pauses for a few seconds, probably trying to find some words to fill in the silence, gave up eventually, and picked up from whatever was being discussed before I raised my voice. As if I didn't exist, or I didn't belong.
I hate this patterns, yet I see it repeating all the time. I often blame the distance between me and others in Canada for a lack of cultural knowledge, or local understanding from both sides. It's not about the language we speak, I understand them perfectly, but always I feel like my position as a foreigner coupling with the fact that very few Canadians know what Vietnam is besides the war leaves little in common between us. Many times, after I introduce myself, the other person would later ask "So what's the weather like in Taiwan?" or "Do you like the food from Singapore you can find here?" obviously having completely forgotten a name of a country that doesn't make sense to them.
But in fact, the same thing happens when Im home, with people I have always assumed to know me so well. And not for the first time, but it still hurts like the first. Indeed, I have watched many of my deep and strong friendships wither every time I came home and realized I had less and less in common with my friends, who of course were going in different directions. That used to bother me a lot. Then I got used to it, and grew to accept that I would not have the same friends when I returned as when I left. I would have to make new friends. Or so I thought.
My life in Canada and my life in Vietnam don't intersect. There is no crossing point between the two except myself. They are separate spheres, I leave one to enter the other. Every time I came home, I felt like all the years I had spent in that distant country vanished like a dream. A dream I had some faint memory of, but did not connect with the reality I would be living at home. The same thing happens whenever I went to Canada. It's almost like a costume, before putting one on, I have to take the other off, then live accordingly to the costume I am having over myself. They are not simply two places I move back and forth, they are two different realities.
I remember when I went home after I graduated from Trent, thinking I would not be back in Canada anytime soon, if at all. I took a shower in my bathroom, and the faucet was exactly the same way it was when I left. I needed to tilt it a little bit in a crooked position to stop the flow. It was like that moment linked directly to the last time I took a shower before I left for Canada. And suddenly, those four years seemed so unreal and irrelevant. They were almost a dream that I woke up from, as if I had never been there.
And now, I realized that because the people in my life in Vietnam don't know anything about Canada, or living abroad for that matter, I am a fish out of water in both places. And the people I come into contact with in Canada, have no idea about living in Vietnam. Neither here nor there, the same old feeling still lingers. I don't have a relative who migrated before me, an aunt or an uncle who my parents and my grandparents know and can relate to. For them, the Canadian friends I tell them about are just names, foreign names that don't really ring any bell in their heads. They can't imagine the manner, the way of life, the customs, and of course the weather.
One of the girls in our group tonight asked me, when we were waiting to cross a busy street, if Canada has distinct seasons like Vietnam does. And I exclaimed "Of course, the seasons there are way more distinct than what we have here!". So when I mentioned Caribbean islands, they were quiet for a few seconds, and resumed their discussions on Cambodia. Just like if I mentioned I went to Nha Trang, my friends in Canada would not know what to say.
Then the thought about two separate realities came up. I turned to a girl sitting next to me and started explaining "You know, I feel like my life in Canada and my life here don't connect...." She didn't say a word. Another girl turned to us "What is that headache-causing topic you are rumbling about?" She stared at me, and turned away.
That moment, I felt so out of place. And it hurt even more because I was with my people, my friends, my born-in-the-same-year girls.
I was so sad, so sad I could cry.
