A similar thing happened a few months later when a friend, Jin, came over to Taipei.
I showed him around.
We got on a bus. Nobody gave us a second look.
We stood in the crowded bus, strap-hanging. Nobody gave us a second look.
Then, Jin opened his mouth to ask me something — in English.
It is very common for Singaporeans to speak in English to each other, even if they are both/all Chinese (or Malay, or Indian).
When Jin put his question to me, it was as if he’d set off a firecracker on the bus: up jerked all the heads, with all the eyes trained on him — the source of the alien sounds.
They saw a Chinese face, so they turned to look at me, as if to find the reason for this Chinese man speaking English: his companion must be a Westerner.
But no, they saw a Chinese face on me as well.
In disbelief, they looked back at Jin, then at me, then at him, then at me. Yes, both Chinese faces indeed. Then why are they speaking in English?
The eyes travelled from our heads to our toes — slowly down, slowly up, then slowly down again, scanning our faces, clothes, shoes, trying to find some clue for our using English with each other.
(Taiwan, 1975)
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