"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.
