From Malaysia to Me(h)ico...

What's the connection you ask? Well, for those of you who might not commit every exciting blog entry I post to your eternal memory, let me remind you... I was at a wedding last summer in Belfast when one of the guests asked me if I was Malaysian...

And now, faithful readers, my seemingly ellusive ethnic identity is causing Irish people from Dublin to Belfast a surprising amount of confusion...

So. I found myself in the foyer of a large Irish bank, setting up with a local photographer. We were faced with the fun task of shooting the board of directors for an annual report that I'm in the midst of designing. (with a camera!) The execs were late (of course) and my job as "art director" (!) was pretty much sorted so the photographer and I were just chatting away waiting for a bunch o' middle aged peeps with expensive clothes and bad teeth to show their lovely faces for the camera. American politics and culture came up (as it does) as well as Irish immigration (and my place in it.) The photographer asked me about my Irish ethnic background (or lack there of). "You don't have any Irish background, sure ya don't?" and then the hillariousnesss, "You're Mexican right?" I thought he was joking and had a laugh only to realise that he was completely serious... Amazing. I'm kinda loving this exotic new background I've got... It's as if they've never seen anyone with brown hair and eyes... I'm a Mexican-Malaysian-Italian-American mutt... haha.

Oh, and Irish of course. I found myself at Finnbarr's G.A.A. Club in Cabra last night (at some guys 40th birthday party) where I met a guy with the most amazing (!) tatoo I have ever, ever seen! ;) He had quite a beer belly and around the belly button was written in orange, white and green in a celticy-cartoony font, "Made in" (curving above the navel) "Ireland" (curving below the navel.) When he found out I live in Dublin, he was like, "Ah, yer half Irish then," before asking me to dance with him to the a cappella version of "Living on a Prayer" being belted out by a guy with a Tina Turner wig who was part of a two man "cover band" with a propensity for Tiffany and Abba covers. God, if only I had a camera.

Cheers, from the land of Mexican-Malaysian foreigners mingling with girls in gold, spandex dresses hanging out with guys with bad tatoos eating cocktail sausages and pints of cider in North Dublin on a Saturday night. Viva la difference!