Big Tall Awkward White Girl in India

Is it bad that most of the time I do not care if I am super awkward and people are looking at me?  Maybe I have just been here long enough to not really care.  Still, even though I don't care, it is impossible not to notice that people notice me.  I looked at a picture of myself with my teammates and I immediately understood why. I am a bit tall white awkward girl, who dresses differently, eats differently, talks differently, smiles differently, nods her head differently, dances differently, treats people differently, works differently.

I'd be lying if I said that some other these things didn't bother me here and there, but for the most part they don't, especially in the cases where I may stand out more than others.  In my previous life, I would have been so embarrassed that I would have wanted to curl up in a ball in a dark corner somewhere.  At this point in my life, I could give a rat's A.  In these situations, maybe I would have cared as an insecure teenager:

-In the canteen (ie. cafeteria), at friend's house, at formal dinners: attempting to eat everything with my right hand.  I had no idea that there could be a proper, clean way of eating with your hands.  Then I got food all over my face every time I tried.

-Dancing at a work function to Indian songs.  Shockingly, American music has not taken over the DJ spot here.  It probably wouldn't have helped in the awkwardness (since I am also awkward in the US).  I got over the initial fear to bust a move in front of the near 100 people present, since I knew that everyone would be watching the tall weird white girl's every move on the dance floor (and shoving the video camera in her face), and went out to have a blast.  Let's just say it was probably not graceful.  I think I mastered the men's moves easier than the beautiful belly dancing moves.

-Hanging out in my driver's village.  Children were taking turns peering through the doorway as I visited my driver's home in the middle of sugar cane fields.  As we left, there were around 30 kids from all over the village running after the car smiling, waving and laughing.  As I was writing this, in fact, I received a text message from my driver, Londhe, requesting that I call him.  That has happened a few times over the last week, so I knowingly fulfills his wishes, so he can put me on speaker in order that his family, friends, and children of the village can simply hear the funny lady speak.

This brings me on a short tangent, again, about the common, misguided myth: "Everyone speaks English".  Ha.  Needless to say, I have been learning a bit of Hindi here.

Back to my awkward white girl list...

-Attempting to speak Hindi.  The only things more awkward than me speaking in Hindi are the moments of silence during which I get stared at with a blank smile and then my every move and thread on and off my body  is memorized, because we have run out of things to say to one another.

-Walking across the office in my "formal professional wear".  Again, needless to say, women do not wear the same outfits we western women do.  Even if I weren't white as a sheet of paper, people would still stare at me as if I were an alien due to my style.  That's ok - gives me the excuse to further my clothing addiction and purchase kurti/as to wear to work to minimize the impact of my alien nature.

-Eating dinner alone.  This was the first and most difficult thing I had to tackle on this extended business trip of 4.5 months.  Quick and easy method to overcome loneliness, and rogue eye contact: reading a book/newspaper, and/or writing in a journal.  Advanced method to overcome loneliness in this situation, in cases where you forget the aforementioned items: befriend the staff and force them to teach you their native language.  Even with the use of these methods, the awkwardness is not mitigated.  For example, since my stomach has shrunk (reference: previous post), I cannot eat very much.  The entire staff had a quick huddle last night before the host confronted me about it, interrogating me as to what was wrong with the food.  Traditions in India now tell me that I am supposed to clean my plate, no matter how much it hurts and  burp at the end.

I know I have a billion more awkward situations to document, being a big tall white girl in India, but my battery is dead and so am I.

Thank you to everyone for the "get well" and "gain weight" wishes.  I have seen more mass in my face the last couple of days and I think anyone who knows me beyond acquaintance level would be pleased to know that I cooked and ate an entire box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese this evening.  Clearly, I am returning to the normal state.