Armknechts Abroad

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Sunday, January 21, 2007

Take a picture, it'll last longer

I don't blend in here. Being tall, white and blonde doesn't exactly lend itself to going undetected in a crowd in Asia. Imagine that.

Getting stared at here is something a lot of expatriates or tourists have to get used to. It depends on where you go, really--in bigger Jakarta malls or certain parts of the city with large expatriate populations, no one pays any attention. In spots not often frequented by foreigners, though, one might run the risk of feeling like a zoo exhibit.

If I'm somewhere I know isn't often visited by tall white girls, the staring doesn't really bug me too much, especially if the people staring at me are mostly little kids. They're kids. Oh well. It can still be kind of irritating, especially when people stop in their tracks and I nearly trip over them, but it's tolerable.

There are places where getting stared at nearly infuriates me, though. Earlier in 2006 a Hypermart department store opened up in our town. (It's like a crappier version of Wal-Mart, if you can imagine.) The store is incredibly convenient because it means we can get most of our groceries without having to drive into Jakarta. We still buy meat and milk and some produce in the fancy western stores in Jakarta because Hypermart's selection of those items is downright disgusting, but for almost everything else, it's decent enough.

I love the convenience of the store, but I hate shopping there because of the stares. I know it's harmless, but it drives me absolutely crazy. People will literally stop in their tracks in the middle of the aisle and just stare like we're some sort of circus freaks. Sometimes I stare back, sometimes I say loudly, "Oh my God, Travis, LOOK! A WHITE PERSON!!!" and then I point to myself. The people staring usually can't understand what I'm saying, but it makes them uncomfortable enough that they move on. It's probably incredibly rude of me, and all kinds of culturally insensitive, but getting stared at like that is awful. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt and buying a freaking bag of apples! I'm not going to put the apples up my nose, or strip down to my underwear and do a magical white person apple-buying ritual dance! Back the hell off!

Getting stared at while on school grounds is probably the worst. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes the school hires day laborers to work on the grounds for a week or so and then holy crap! Foreigners! Better stare at them, because you never know the next time we'll see such an amazing phenomenon! I think it bugs me so much because I feel like school is my turf. Don't stare at me, I belong here!

My classroom and the three surrounding it are also subject to frequent inspection by visitors. Our odd little admissions woman will parade them back and forth past our windows so they can see the exciting phenomenon of foreign people teaching children. It's like how Concordia always managed to put every single remotely non-white student on its brochures and catalogs to create an atmosphere of "multiculturalism," when in fact something like 95% of students are WASP-y kids from the Midwest. Honestly, this doesn't really bother me, though. I understand that the idea of native speakers teaching English classes is a big selling point for the school. Plus, our block of rooms is right next to the office and reception area, so it's kind of impossible to not walk by and have a gander if you're on a school tour. No big deal.

The unabashed leering does bug me, however, and I think that my limited tolerance for it is growing increasingly less as we approach the end of our time here. Getting stared at in public is one of the things I'm getting so incredibly sick of. Yesterday's events pushed me over the edge.

While Travis and I were in Jakarta yesterday, near the expatriate-heavy district of Kemang, we decided to stop at a little outdoor market we'd driven by many times but never explored. The market was full of things to look at but not buy--giant brass Arabian oil lamps nearly as tall as I was, colored glass lanterns so big they'd need two-story entryways, wall-sized brass peacocks--and just as Travis and I were debating whether or not to hop in the car and head home or check out the furniture shop next door I noticed a guy sitting about 30 feet away from me.

He and his three friends were filming me on a camera phone. They noticed me noticing them and started laughing--and kept filming. Travis yelled at him to stop, which just made him laugh harder. I angrily got in the car and slammed the door shut, thanking God for our dark tinted windows. I made Travis get in, too, and insisted on leaving immediately. The shopkeeper, disappointed in the loss of what he felt was going to be a certain sale of giant brass objects, went over and yelled at the men, but by that point we were driving away.

It completely ruined my day. What a bunch of horrible, slimy bastards. In retrospect, I wish I had done more than get mad and hide in the car. I wish I'd taken the phone and demanded he delete the photos, or taken the battery out and smashed it under my heel. I wish I'd spit at them and asked if their mothers taught them to treat women that way. I wish I knew more swear words in Indonesian. None of that would've made any difference, though, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Yuck.

I'm so ready to come home.

1 Comments:

  • At Saturday, January 27, 2007 10:14:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    SPEAKING of the Concordia Seward brocheres, did you know that Ryan was in one of the photography shoots? They took all these pictures of him walking, reading, etc. You know where he ended up, much to my delight? There is a tiny VERY close up picture of just his face and under it it says "Concordia Seward does not discriminate aganist age, race or handicap."

    AHAHAHAHAHAHHA. Cracks me up to this day!

    Sorry about the staring. Maybe you are just so fabulous they can't help it.

     

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