Back in Terlizzi, Bari, Italy

So here I am, back again at the Paduanelli's. It feels good to be back, didn't enjoy the journey to airport and on the plane but I'm glad to be here, seeing familiar faces, being warmly welcomed. Nevermind that it's a good change of weather from a cold autumn rainy week to sunny days of 30 degree celcius and laying out in the sun, going into the icy cold water in Giovinazzo, swimming in the sea, seeing the cute kids at home, it's nice and slow. And actually have time to blog.
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How much can I ever get use to this slow life mode if I ever get myself into this environment for real? Uh uh. Don't think so. Can I switch lane if I try? Or if you're used to being me, you can never succeed at switching lane?
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What's been on my mind for a while is the fact that I am doubting my nationality. I like minding my own business at some point in my life, and 'special rights' as a citizen is something that I'm not happy about, but I'm not about to moan. I've learnt to make my own living and not having to rely heavily on others. But why do I feel provoked sometimes? I'm an immigrant in the UK, but do not tell me that I am an immigrant in Malaysia. Especially when in reality, the one who's calling us an immigrant, comes from a line of immigrant but in his head try to believe that he's an aborigine. WHY WHY WHY WHY.
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I joked with my boss that maybe when I go home next month it wouldn't be to apply for Tier 1 work permit but to seek asylum in the UK. Who knows what's going to happen back home, things sound unstable from what I read, or should I not believe what I read from the new agency.
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Today my friends asked why do I deny that I'm a Chinese, like how an Italian born in England can not call himself an English. That's also to Australians. Are most Australians Australians? When I'm outside Malaysia, I tell people I'm Malaysian. For those who know my country well, I say "I'm a Malaysian Chinese", but I never and would never introduce myself as "Chinese", because it's wrong.
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Don't question me.