For a Dear Friend

becky    Uncategorized    

Two posts for the price of one today. A dear friend requested that I share some stories of crazy things that have happened, so I will share two. One that will be new to all and one that will be new to some.

The first incident happened while Toffer was in Nepal.  I have found that I am treated differently when I’m out alone and depending on the gender and ethnicity of the person I’m interacting with that can be a good thing or a bad thing.  Surprisingly the awkward situation I’m about to relate was from someone I would have previously thought would be appropriately friendly with me or just smile and move on.  Not so on this day.  Benjamin had been asking for days to go to our favorite Indian restaurant, though some of that might be that it’s the only restaurant he knows the name to because we ate there so often when we first moved.  We really like the food and the staff are friendly and like our boys, so I was game. It’s a place I know and felt comfortable going by myself with the boys.  We sat down to eat, half a dozen restaurant employees came by to talk to/play with the boys at various times, it was a typical meal.

I noticed a couple sit down at the table next to us, closest to Benjamin’s side of the table. I wouldn’t have expected either one of them to interact with us.  As we’re eating the woman reaches over and touches Benjamin and makes a comment about how much he’s eating. We get lots of comments like that because our boys eat a ridiculous amount of food for their ages, so at first I didn’t think a lot about it. Then she starts asking questions, while continuing to touch Benjamin while he’s trying to eat-rubbing his head, pulling on his arms, etc. I can tell he’s getting uncomfortable and so am I, but I didn’t know what to do. She asked how much Benjamin weighs, how much he weighed at birth, how he was born, and several other odd questions.  Then she asks if I take care of myself, which I thought meant if I had taken good care of myself when I was pregnant.  Her dining companion clarified that question by saying she meant partner/housemate.  Then she asked if all my children had the same father and is Benjamin’s father European (all Caucasians are called Europeans).  A few more odd questions that I can’t remember were asked after that.  For the record-I’m very much married to one man who is the father of all of my children. He’s half “European” and half Chinese (though at the store the other day he had a lady ask if his wife was Chinese because she could see it in the boys and apparently thought it didn’t come from him).  I don’t particularly like essentially being called a woman with loose morals. And I have rings on my ring fingers on both hands, so in any culture it should be easy to see that I’m married.  Regardless to say it wasn’t the nice, relaxed dinner with the boys that we were all looking forward to.

And for story number two.  We went to a neighboring country last week for a couple days, so we were staying in a hotel.  A vast majority of the people staying there were ethnically Asian of one kind or another, so like most places we go, we were really obvious and stuck out.  We ate breakfast at the hotel for sake of ease. They claimed it was an American buffet, but I don’t know a lot of Americans who eat fried rice or roti with chicken curry gravy for breakfast. Maybe just the concept of a buffet was the American part.  We actually liked the food as did the boys, so it was fine. Anyway, that doesn’t have much to do with the story except the roti part (which only Toffer ate with the curry gravy).  Roti is a sort of crepe-like bread dish that’s really tasty.  We first had it in Singapore a couple years ago and can get it here, too.  You can get it plain or with fillings.  For breakfast I like it with egg inside and a little sugar on top.

So, there’s a sweet girl (who looked like she’s actually from the country we spend most of our time in) making the roti fresh for breakfast. I stood in line both days to get it for myself and for the boys, so ended up going up more than once both days.  On the second day I went up a second time to ask said sweet girl to make me a roti with egg for Samuel. The guy in front of me in line sort of laughs and says something along the lines of “You like this very much. I see you have gotten much of it for two days now.” Wow-CREEPY!

Okay, first of all, most of what I ordered was for my toddlers and their aforementioned voracious appetites.  Apparently he wasn’t watching me too closely, otherwise he would have known that. Second, I’m not some silly westerner who is enjoying the novelty of this new food. We have a place three blocks away from our house that makes it and we eat there all the time.  Thirdly, you’re a creepy guy with a creepy laugh and I don’t like that you’re watching me. Please stop. Thank you very much.

And that’s my life, folks.

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