Monopoly & Blending

I made sadza (the staple food here) for the first time this weekend! I hate to brag, but it didn't even have lumps (likely because I used every ounce of arm muscle I could muster!) We also taught some friends the fine game of Monopoly on Saturday night. It was quite fun to see them get so excited and enthusiastic about a game that they had never seen before. John was ruthless even though it was their first time playing. He has this "thing" about Monopoly. He feels that being competitive (read: ruthless) is the best way to teach the realities of monopolies in the world. He won.

As I was carrying the Monopoly game from our house to the Wards' (where we are house-sitting for a month), I noticed that everyone along my path was staring at me. This is not an unusual occurrence. It is not because I am particularly gorgeous, but because, on first glance, I don't "blend" all that well here. Our first week here we noticed that everyone was staring at our Nalgene water bottles as we were carrying them. Someone explained that people probably thought we were carrying around poison and that they were scared that we might throw it on someone. I don't know WHAT they thought I was going to do with the Monopoly game!

Not blending definitely has its advantages. For instance, I can pick John out of a crowd REALLY easily! Most times I don't mind the staring, and I am used to it, but sometimes I find it exhausting. We are always watched; to see how we will react to things; to see if we are happy; to see how different we are. Most of the time I do feel happy, and most of the time I enjoy sharing my culture or my ideas. Sometimes, however, I don't want to represent all of Canada, or all of the Western world, by my actions or my opinions. Sometimes I just want to blend. In social work school I interviewed a fellow classmate for one of my school assignments. She is an extremely articulate and compassionate Black, Jewish, Lesbian. She talked about how it can be tiring to constantly have to explain herself and be a curiosity. I have a small taste of what she meant now. Normally I don't mind explaining my "strange" habits; my way of being different. But sometimes I long for people who just know me and accept me, and don't think I'm particularly "interesting" but just "normal." Don't get me wrong - I would rather be extraordinary than ordinary. I would rather stick out than fade into the background. I would rather be interesting than normal. But sometimes, just sometimes, I don't want to be a curiosity. Sometimes I just want to blend in.