Suffice to say, all the things about experiencing supposedly cultural shock in Britain wasn’t in the forms of courting orang putehs in public or rampant cleavage exposure on a balmy summer’s day. I could remember thinking “So this is what it’s like when you’ve been in Britain for so long”. In those days, I somehow felt that these Malaysian expats had this air about them, not giving the likes of us wet-behind-the-ears student types a second look. Despite all that, I still see them tucking into their nasi campur meals with sambal belacan with their Burberry trench coats neatly placed on the backs of their chairs at the Bryanston Square basement canteen after a long day’s work at The City.
Fast forward twenty-two years to the present, I now find myself one of the many Malaysian expats[1] in Britain, sans Burberry trench coat or a job in The City. And I’d like to think I’m still the same person that landed at Heathrow that many years ago.
[1]According to wiki, there are about 63,000 Malaysians residing in the United Kingdom in 2009 (Office of National Statistics figures). Legal and illegal overstayers included, mungkin.
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