Almost 30 years after my family arrived in Cronulla, we don’t attract much attention. But that wasn’t the case in 1996 when we turned up from the People’s Republic of China. On the streets, down by the beach and along The Esplanade, the people of Cronulla were either perfectly tanned or a bit reddish. Their hair was either blonde or brown. They wore either bikinis or board shorts. A lot of flesh was visible on both men and women. This was a culture shock for me – was this legal? How are they all so confident?

Now, there are many people in Cronulla of all different backgrounds. Many are local Australians with a non-Anglo-Celtic heritage. But they all confidently wear bikinis or are shirtless. They sound quintessentially Aussie. No one blinks twice if I walk into a surf shop, and the fried chicken and chips no longer smell exotic.

The main street has changed a great deal. Some of the single-level shops remain – the post office, butcher, bakeries. The cafes are now much trendier than the first ones I encountered. Surf shops are scarce, replaced by trendy wine bars and buzzing eateries. Restaurants are aplenty and stylish, from modern Australian to Thai, to sushi, dumplings and Greek.

Cronulla is 26 kilometres south of the Sydney CBD in the Sutherland Shire, famous for having some of Sydney’s most beautiful beaches; including the city’s longest continuous stretch of sand from Cronulla Beach past North Cronulla up to Wanda Beach. It is also the only Sydney beach directly accessible by train.

The people walking along The Esplanade and at the beach are mainly the retired and the young. There are now many Alo-wearing mums sipping iced matchas and pushing prams, bikini-clad teens with their acai bowls and then the retirees, dressed up and walking to one of the fancy restaurants by the water. You can tell the out-of-area Sydneysiders who are visiting Cronulla on a warm, sunny day with their picnics – even tents and speakers. And tour buses rest near the old fisheries after they drop off foreign tourists so that they can do the now famous Hungry Point Clifftop Walk. Cronulla may be a smallish suburb in Sydney, but the changes reflect the cultural and demographic shifts we have been experiencing as a nation over the past 30 years.

My parents visited Australia as tourists before our move. They chose Cronulla as opposed to Bondi or Manly as it seemed a lot less touristy and would give me the ultimately real Australian experience to grow up in. People were friendly enough, perhaps more curious than anything. Anyone we came across asked if we spoke English or asked where we were from. All of them assuming we were not locals. I felt like the endangered giant panda in the zoo.

I was 12 when we arrived and keen to fit in but there were a few hiccoughs. My classmates said they were bringing “trunks” to school to “hit the water”, but my dictionary wasn’t much help. Were they bringing large boxes, and why did the water have to be hit? Saying that the surf was “ripper” was confusing; I gave up when someone mentioned “budgie smugglers”. Where was Kathy Lette when you needed her?

Despite Cronulla’s natural beauty, a huge drawback for teenage me was the almost daily mocking about living in the (Sutherland) Shire from my city-based schoolmates.

“Geez, how did you make it to school at 8am this morning? You live in Cronulla, which is like, what, on another planet?” – followed by raucous laughter. When I was at university, I never went out in the city because the commute home would be torturous. Trains late at night would come only every half hour, not to mention the eerily quiet hour-long ride itself at that time. It felt almost traitorous to venture beyond the Shire’s threshold.

The serenity and easy-going nature of Cronulla and its people was disrupted in December 2005 by the Cronulla Race Riots. I still remember that day vividly. A typical summer’s evening, we went for our evening stroll. By the time we got home and turned on the news, we saw footage of uproar, confusion, violence. I had shivers down my spine.

This was the complete opposite to the Cronulla I knew. Questions flooded my mind. Will we be safe living in Cronulla? Will we be able to go for our walks along the beautiful Esplanade? Will we be able to dine out again comfortably and not be disadvantaged because we look different? We kept up-to-date with the daily news as the events were dissected. I was more alert when travelling to and from uni or walking around in Cronulla. In fact, we tried to lay low for a while afterwards just to “stay out of the way”.

That feeling and anxiety was no way for anyone to live.

Landmarks from Cronulla that I particularly like include Bass and Flinders Point – the view is stunning and reading the plaque was where I learned about how the coastline of Cronulla was discovered. Also, the Cronulla Post Office, which is the central hub of the town centre.

I also like to visit the Salmon Haul Reserve – which is now the start of Hungry Point Cliff walk and Northies Cronulla, right opposite the ocean, where all the cool people go. It was my first time to taste potato wedges that came with sweet chilli sauce and sour cream, at the Nulla Nulla Cafe. I had no idea what they were. It was my first time to have a classic Australian milkshake topped with whipped cream.

Sealevel is a beautiful seafood-focused modern Australian restaurant with stunning views almost at ocean level with its large, floor-to-ceiling glass walls and windows. I used to look inside at the stunning Aussies dining in their finery, with wine and multi-layered seafood platters adorning the table. I had promised my parents that I would take them there one day when I grew up.

Now I still walk past the same beaches, shops and landmarks that shaped me as I have evolved just like the suburb itself. I no longer feel exotic, have been acquainted with Sealevel and feel a sense of belonging. I have a new sense of appreciation as I look out to the ocean because I am reminded that places change just as people do, with their own history, growth, beauty and flaws. You might even find me, white as a ghost, in my Alo-gear sipping on an iced matcha.

Alu Han is a Cronulla resident.