The Sri Lankan classification of staring

"Foreigners were stared at in India. Somewhere in the five or more millennia of its history, the [Indian] culture had decide to dispense with the casual, nonchalant glance. By the time I came to Bombay, the eye contact ranged from an ogling gaze to a gawping, goggle-eyed glare. There was nothing malicious in it. The staring eyes that found and followed me everywhere I went were innocent, curious, and almost always friendly.  And that intense scrutiny had its benefits : for the most part, people stared at what I was, not what I did. Foreigners were stared into invisibility.” 

(an extract from Shantaram, an incredible book and unbelievable story written by and based on the life of Gregory David Roberts). If you haven't yet read it, I can thoroughly recommend it.

Although referring to India, this passage could just a well be written of Sri Lankan and has certainly been my experience so far as a foreigner here. Having said that, I have felt anything but invisible. I'm fairly confident that there have been more than a few occasions when people have absolutely been staring at “what I did” not just “what I am” (the unfortunate flip flop incident and the bus rage fuelled moment of slightly loud swearing being just two examples). Between “the ogling gaze” and the “gawping, goggle eyed glare” there are a whole host of different varieties of staring to be enjoyed here.

There is the open mouthed stare and the classic double-take, the grinning stare, the confused, amused and bemused stares and the unnervingly sullen stare. There is the twist and stare, the most basic of which involves a simple turn of the neck, as well as the spin and stare; I've seen both 180 degree spins as well as the odd Jackson-esque 360. There is the silent stare, the beep and stare, the hazardous steer and stare, and the very common shout and stare; the latter most often consisting of enquiries about which country I am from and where I am going.

A particularly entertaining one is the multi-stare (when several passengers on a passing bus all look out of the window at you simultaneously, heads turning in sync as it moves on). The most disconcerting, however, are the stares at the pool. The be-goggled stares are not so bad. It's the poolside stares which are most off-putting. I have been reminded of those awkward teenage years when braving the public swimming pool was always accompanied with that horrible feeling that everyone was staring at you. Only, this time they really are!

However, if I had to give a prize to the stare most effective in rendering this foreigner horribly uncomfortable, it would go to the stand far too close, follow and stare, a special kind of staring practised by the ridiculously attentive shop assistants from a distance of approximately 2 nose lengths. As someone who does not enjoy shopping at the best of times, you can imagine how much I love this one!

Although it's taking some time to get used to, I am mostly finding it more amusing than irritating. I am getting better at ignoring the looks when it suits me, or fleeing from the shop when necessary, but more often enjoy sharing a smile with the starer. Whether this continues to be the case remains to be seen.