The website that I directed you to earlier has been giving me issues (not actually allowing me to see how many likes each photo has…gah! How frustrating). So I have no idea which photos are actually any good!

I apologize for making you do this again, but if you can…please just put the number in the comments. (Ex: 2, 15, 36, etc) You do not need to sign up for a blog account, you can do it as “guest” – I will keep the comments private, so don’t worry about anyone else seeing them.

Again, thank you so much!

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I’ve spent a month in similar moping. I was eating fiendishly. I refused to leave the house. I kept trying to pay with Thai baht in stores. It took me a month to stop converting from Rupees, and just understand dollars, although I still cringe and think about what and how much I could have bought in India for that $5. Plenty, is the answer that comes back.
A month ago I returned from about 10 months of travel. 5 in the states, and then 5 in Asia.
It’s been a month and I still haven’t unpacked. I became comfortable living out of a suitcase. Closets unnerved me.

After a conversation with a friend which wasn’t as succinct as yours (although another friend did say something similar) I realized that I was bored in America. Even NYC.

I missed being abroad, and I missed who I was abroad.
Sometimes I was scared sure, but a lot of the time I was on top of the world and outgoing and excited.

Its always exciting to be in an unknown place and challenge yourself. Everything becomes a challenge.

So I began to look for challenges here. It took a lot of time. Moping, self-pitying time, but I suppose there always needs to be a grieving period. Traveling for so long, and having such an intense time–it’s hard to come down from that. Sure, there are nice things in a first-world country, but like you I missed the crazy things. The roosters, the cows in the streets, the crazy driving, the amazing street food, the sign-language I would employ with people because we had no language in common. They made me happy.

So I am trying to see living in NYC again as an adventure. Every cover letter I send out, I’m pretending it’s a new jungle trek. Sometimes in stores I like to warble my eyes so that I can’t read and pretend that this food is something new and strange. Occasionally I go to a very small ethnic store and literally pick up something totally different.

Or I go get lost in neighborhoods. I take wrong turns on purpose just to see what I can discover.

It’s hard to find other who understand this. So I’m trying to hang out with CouchSurfers in the city. They can sometimes bring the magic back.

If I’m lucky, they teach me some new words.

Here was my comment:

I have never lied about being American during all my travels. Even though I majored in Politics in college, I still avoid some discussions. I usually can tell when the conversations will not be productive. When people just want to fight.
When I’ll be sitting at a bar with friends and a guy will tap me on the shoulder and without so much as a “hello” launch into a tirade of why America is like Hitler… Of course, the entire bar sort of stopped to listen. I told him politely that I didn’t want to engage in his talk, turned around, and went back to my friends. I didn’t need to fight, or get upset.
In a lot of ways, I enjoy beating the stereotypes that people have of Americans. That we are not all loud or uninformed.
Actually one man I met vehemently denied that I was American. I looked at him oddly and asked if he wanted to see my passport? He was adamant about the belief that since I am thin, that I cannot be American. He has never been to America. He’s met only a few, if that Americans. Yet he so firmly believed that we are all obese. (Also he asked me about my gun since I come from Brooklyn, NY, and I had to explain that I have never owned one).
I was taking a certification course to become an English teacher in Thailand, and in one of my classes I befriended some religious women from Iran and Sudan. They were happy that I knew some words, greetings, and that I brought candy for Eid. The women were pleased that not all Americans hate Muslims, but some Thai students who watched this friendship later on admitted to me that they didn’t think Americans were like that.
Sure, some folks have rudely turned away or insulted me upon hearing where I’m from (despite having already been in a conversation with me). That’s fine. That is their business. I have never felt in danger though. Most people dislike the American government and their policies (that’s fine, many Americans do as well)…but as for Americans, we’re okay.
Little changes matter. Even one mind, matters.

The Full Story:

I was flying from NYC-Bangkok on China Airlines. I had a layover in Alaska, and then one more in Taiwan Airport (where the theft occurred). It was a short layover, that included going through more security checks. Although I bought a laptop bookbag that was especially designed to open up flat, thus eliminating the need to remove the laptop, security gave me a series of gestures requiring me to take out the laptop and put it into a plastic tub. Having done this at two other airports on this trip, I thought nothing of it. I was surrounded by 5/6 security guards. I deemed everything safe. I put it down, went through the metal detector, and then discovered only an empty tub at the other end of the conveyor belt. I panicked, notified the guards, explained that I put it in there. The language barrier was difficult, but they understood that the hunt for a stolen laptop was on.

I was taken to security. I suppose to keep me from crying in public. I’m not sure how much time passed because after long hours flying, and the shock of having my laptop stolen at a security checkpoint (the irony did not amuse me at that moment), maybe around half an hour, when they finally came to me. They found the security tape that recorded the entire event. They showed me the footage. They had a clear visual of the man who took my laptop.

What had occurred was that the man was in front of me, and the video showed him looking behind his shoulder and seeing my laptop. He quickly went forward, got through the metal detector and stealthily grabbed my laptop and kept walking. He probably did this before, because it took less than 30 seconds for my precious laptop (and all of its information) to be out of my life. No one would question his natural and easy movement in taking the laptop. I was told not to worry, that they identified the man and although his plane has already took off, they will capture him on the other side. They were completely confident. They told me not to miss my connecting flight to Bangkok, as my laptop will be recovered in no time and they will send it to me. I figured going onto Bangkok would be best, as missing my flight would just add more salt to the wound. Not long afterward I received the email from the airport (which I sent in a prior email). The main line, for me, being “We also found out he was leaving for Philippine, so we asked China Airlines to inform the custom of Philippine to identify that person and get your laptop back right away upon his arrival. Unfortunately, the Philippine custom failed to do so.”

I’m not exactly sure why the man was never caught, as they had his information, the video, and really, all information meant to retrieve my property. Why he wasn’t detained is beyond me.

So I did contact the airport, which eventually never contacted me when I pointed out their accountability. Their failed efforts to catch the man, who was never tracked down, was basically the extend of the help of the airline….(blah blah insurance info).

WTF? Who does this happen to in real life? Except me, of course. Isn’t this silly?!

Lessons From the Ridiculous Story:

1. Fuck China Airlines. You can tell them that. Just…grr.

2. (Here’s the real travel tip): Watch your stuff. Mine was an extreme case, but man oh man, if my laptop was stolen from the xray machine, surrounded by guards, then there’s no reason that in a more congested area your stuff can be stolen. Try to make sure that you and your stuff come out at the same time on the other end. Position yourself so you don’t lag too far behind. Keep an eye on it.

3?: If the insurance comes through, then I can say buy insurance. If not, well, fuck ‘em too? We’ll see, I’m still wrestling with them. I have to say though, they have some really nice people working there. Everyone on the phone was just peach pie to me and very helpful. I hope they’re helpful enough to aid me in monies for new laptop procurement.

I guess I’m not traveling.

Although I’m trying to do everything I can to turn this into an adventure.

I’m crashing at a friend’s place today. Tomorrow, or the day after I am setting out to go up North.

I want to see Chiang Mai, but I don’t really want to go alone. I’m hoping I can convince some fun CSer to come travel with me. I’d like a partner in crime.

Most of me just wants to go back to the States and start on the multiple projects that I have going on and on in my head. I am super excited for them and I have a lovely website design idea in my brain.

The other small parts war with each other. One wants to travel. The other just wants to lounge around in Bangkok, read and eat.

I also know that I haven’t written about it yet.

It pretty much rocks my socks off!

Seriously.

It’s the best travel companion ever. I only need this tiny baggy and it’s great. I don’t have to “run out of supplies” or have to ask at awkward kiosks, or anything! Plus my body loves me better when I’m using it. I also save craploads of money. I guess my vagina is also being environmentally-friendly. My vagina is typically friendly to all except cold environments.

Anyway, I think it’s totally handy-dandy when it comes to travel. Thailand and India often don’t have a lot of rubbish bins. If any at all. So disposal of bloody tampons and pads (yeah I said bloody, I could have said “used feminine products” but I hate annoying euphemisms. Yes, it’s blood, get over it) can be very very difficult. Also, if you are a tampon user (like I was) good luck. A lot of countries do not have them. They also do not have pads and tampons in the variety that we do back at home. Wings, frills, parking lights (whatever the hell they have on these things nowadays) may not be available. So I have no idea how comfortable the pads are, but when my friend bought some they looked as if she was going to shove a hulking wad of poorly-sticking-to-your-underwear cotton down her pants.

I can dispose of the blood way easier, just take out the cup and spill the blood down the drain. Tah dah! If I have a private bathroom I can wash the cup in the sink and put it back in, if I don’t I just wipe the cup down with tissue and put it back into the line of active duty.

This thing also alleviates any worry of leakage. Which is great. I do not want to be the CSer that bled on the bed.

I totally recommend the Diva Cup (or the variety of simialr devices) to anyone, traveler or homebody.

I know a lot of white girls must’ve already discussed this. I know a lot of us get eye-fucked every which way from Sunday every single moment we are outside. I know staring in India is normal occurrence. French people stare too, but man oh man, no one stares at you like an Indian does. That’s a neutral statement, not a negative one. Even though I’ve gotten used to most of the stares, at the end of the day I still get a bit tired. Sometimes one just wants to walk outside and be anonymous. I surprisingly miss that about living in NYC (even though I used to bash the anonymity when I was younger).

Holly at Pervocracy wrote a great article on ogling. She’s pretty faboo. I totally recommend you read the rest of her blog. Regardless, I thought this was some insightful stuff. I know there is a difference between an ogle and a stare, but it sort of blends here in India.

Some ogles are a little more uncomfortable. Like the Titanium Ogle, which cannot be broken by disapproving looks or the passage of time; those eyes stay locked on until you either start a fight with him or hide behind something…

But few ogles are straight-up frightening like the Unfriendly Ogle. This is where the guy ogles with a really stone-serious face like he’s reading the obituaries, and when he realizes you noticed him, he scowls at you. What the fuck is that?…

I get the Titanium Ogle a lot. It’s pretty unnerving. If I am in a bus (that’s pulling away) and someone from the ground is just MISSILE LOCKDOWN STARE I’ll make a funny face at them. Again, only if the bus is already moving. They have yet to stop staring.

More than that look, I usually get the unfriendly disdainful ogle. The how dare you gave the gall to make me look at you look, even though I’m going down the street minding my own business. As if it’s my fault for making them look. No, no, not look, DEATHSTARE with LASERBEAMS.

Mind you, I’m wearing a polite kurta, nothing too colorful, just plain and simple. I know I will always stand out, but I know it’s not because I’m wearing tight or revealing clothing. They all sort of come in one size (36) which is quite large on me, so I always look like I’m swimming in it. Still, it’s nothing that deserves the stares I get. Holy moley. Even the women.

I was taking an overnight train a week back on my own. I always get the Sleeper, upper berth. I like being all the way on top since it’s harder for most people to get to, or touch, or grab. If I’m asleep and laying down it’s hard to tell that a white girl is up there. As everyone is falling asleep, and it’s dim inside the train, and the snores are rattling the windows, I get that creepy spidey-sense feeling that someone is watching me.

I am laying on my side, so I am facing the other row of bunks. The top one has a guy that’s passed out. Not him. Yet, below him is this woman on the middle bunk that is staring at me. I mean, STARING. She also doesn’t look away when I look at her. We make eye-contact. I break it first though. I’m covered with a sleeping bag. Nestled on the top bunk. But there it is, the STARE.

I turn away, and ten minutes later turn back (trains are not comfortable, but at least I am fully horizontal) and she is still looking up at me. I close my eyes and mumble Go to sleep lady in my mind.

It was like this for most of the night, and in the morning. I let her get off the train first. Of course it wasn’t without one last look.

I’m just trying to figure it out.
When they stare, what are they looking for? It’s not an inquisitive stare, of oh, whatcha doing there? because after 10 seconds one would realize I’m doing nothing special. Usually just standing there, or trying to go to sleep.

Some people seem to be looking for something very specific when they stare at me.
Do they ever find it?
Is it really just difference or novelty?
What exactly do they think I’ll suddenly do?
Break into spontaneous dance and song? I am in the land of Bollywood!

I’ve gotten pretty good at brushing off all types of ogles and stares at this point. I still will give someone a I see what you’re doing there! look, and generally they look away.

I just wish I knew what they were looking for so I could give it to them.

No one ever fights this seriously. The image is from an article on how kids comfort-eat from being in a stressful house. I just connected with the image since I feel like that kid here. Except, you know, eating with my hand and no utensils.

Stuffing my face with something delicious gets hard to do when someone, an auntie or mom, suddenly looks like she’s going to cry. I can’t just go “Someone translate?” and interrupt the serious conversation, and there is an invisible no-touchie rule so I can’t just stand up and comfort someone. In my family my mom would ruffle my hair, or walk by and give me a kiss on the check, I’d nudge my grandma’s arm with my head (because I am some sort of beast thing). My brother and I would hug. I guess we have a good deal of touch, although my entire life I’ve thought we were cold and frigid, at least in comparison to a lot of American families.

I want to be able to communicate with the people around me. I want to be part of the conversation, not just sitting in the middle of it, awkwardly chewing. Besides food and some polite questions I get left alone. I guess we reach our language limit/interaction limit. In such a short amount of time it’s impossible for me or them to reach a level where we can talk. Unless of course I dropped everything I was doing and studied Hindi for 16 hours a day. I don’t really want to learn it that bad.

I’m like the kid playing in the corner of the kitchen while the adults are sitting around plotting a coup d’état with maps on the table.

Talking, and communication in general, is one of my strongest skills. I can parry pretty well with my tongue. The way I speak usually throws people off course. A lot of people said I sound older than I look. I also have no idea how old they think I am, or if they know my real age. Visiting relatives generally call me ma’am since I’m “supposed” to be here for “work purposes”. I’m just chilling, eating, and writing.

AA, the son, the only one fluent in English will catch my deer-in-headlights confused-as-hell expression and will say, “I explain to you later, just act natural” as if he was an older brother who was translating adults to me.

I just don’t know how to act natural when I know something happened in the family. People are upset. I feel as if I’m invading, and that any moment someone will tell me to leave. I know no one will, although I still don’t know how they feel about me. I know they are protective over me, they learned all of my culinary dislikes and likes (AA’s mom is a fantastic cook and I love everything she brings out. Except okra. She makes it very well , but I still hate okra (since I like everything it’s not hard to know my preferences)).