Is there something on my nose?

When Andy picked me up from the airport and we were driving to the hotel, we stopped at an red light, and Andy said, "Let the staring begin." As I looked over, I noticed that on both sides of our car, people were just staring at us, from inside their cars, inside their rickshaws, walking past. Just staring.

You pull up next to someone in traffic, they stare. You walk down the street, they stare. You walk into a room, they stare. Sometimes they whisper, sometimes they point, and sometimes they even laugh. Is there something on my nose? Is my fly open? According to Andy, it’s because I’m so white. Everyone stares at foreigners, whether they are men or women. He says the same thing happens in Japan, because in Japan, Americans are rock stars. I certainly don’t feel like a rock star here, I feel like a freak show.

While we were at the Taj Mahal, these young guys asked if we would be in their picture. Andy said sure, but when I asked them why they wanted us in their picture, they just laughed. I couldn’t help but feel like a freak. It’s like being at the circus. Instead of, “Look at the bearded fat lady,” it's “Look at the white people! Let’s see if we can get their picture!” But we relented, and now some random Indian guys somewhere have a picture of us.