I may not be patriotic, but at least I'm honest

I am a city girl. Pure and simple. Not quite born and bred, as I’d moved to Kuala Lumpur as a two year old, but almost. My growing years were spent in a strict (we got caned at least every alternate day), partially private school in town. During free periods, usually when our teachers were on their annual maternity leaves, a couple of us would sneak out from the back gate to roam about the sleazy streets nearby, once even adjourning to a mall about 5km away on the pretext of helping a classmate to collect an assignment. At the start of my adolescence, my friends and I would dress to the nines (read: hooker get ups complete with 5 inch heels), take a cab to Bukit Bintang and sip our overpriced iced chocolates between bites of gourmet pot pies. Of course, these were only afforded through skipped school meals and occasional hand outs.

Even when I shifted from Damansara Heights to Petaling Jaya, our initially quiet neighbourhood soon turned out to fertile ground for retail outlets. At last count, we were surrounded by the ever growing 1 Utama, The Curve, Ikea, Ikano, Tesco (it’s actually no cheaper than Cold Storage, but presents such illusion with its garish façade, attracting people who have no concept of contraceptives or civics) and the creepy Cineleisure.

Therefore moving to Gold Coast was a bit of a shock to my system. Where every need imaginable had been fulfilled by a 20 minute stroll, tops, my purchasing options were now severely limited. There are really only two proper shopping malls here – Pacific Fair, the largest one and Australia Fair. Their outlets are boring and insipid, the items uninspiring and common. That, and I actually have to drive there.

The average Aussie perceives Malaysia to be a backward, third world hole in the ground, with tree house-dwelling inhabitants in loincloths with the odd self-bombing terrorist. Irrationally enough, whenever they give me that It must be such a drastic change for you opener, all I can think of is: How dare you! We have Topshop in Malaysia! And Zara! And Delicious, which serves yummier Australian cuisine than Australia! Occasionally when I’m feeling less than charitable, I also think: Not that you would be able to fit their clothes!

(If you're Australian and happen to be reading this, I apologise. It's basically how you feel when Americans assume your country is an open zoo full of kangaroos, koala bears and convict descendants roaming about.)

If I’m feeling extra outspoken, I’d say: “You’ve never been to Malaysia, have you?”, before launching into a monologue about how wonderfully modern we are, how our toilets have sensors and marble tops and ambience lighting and are supplied with serviettes to dry our hands on, how we have the best shopping malls ever, how everything is air-conditioned.

Yet when someone praises my country, I’d immediately attack our constitutional racism and sexism, our ridiculously long work hours due to poor labour laws, our mentally retarded politicians and how the only good thing about the country really, is cheap and tasty take out food and widely proliferating pirated DVDs.

I suppose in many ways, you can take the girl out of Malaysia, but you can’t take Malaysia out of the girl. I believe I'm not the only Malaysian to feel this way, else we wouldn't be no. 7 on the list of Australian immigrants. We have people leaving the country for greener pastures everyday. There are about 93,000 Malaysians in Australia alone.

Until all those issues I have against the country are resolved/ become irrelevant to me, I wouldn’t opt to return.