All The World's A Stage.

Let's start with the positives.
Actually, I'm not so sure it's a "positive" but it's not the angry rant that I have brewing in the depths of my soul.

So let's start with something lighter.

Street kids.

They are literally on every street in Oaxaca. Hungry, dirty, hilarious, vivacious, little kids who typically spend their days begging for money.

And occasionally food.

Because I am almost 100% certain they don't get to keep the money they collect, I will not give them any. But food? Always.

If a child asks me for food, I will never say no. Starving or not.
And so today, when Lisa and I were walking to the little park to sit and eat lunch, and this little chico came up alongside us asking for some of our peanuts, we happily obliged.

And I gave him a sucker.
And then a woman passed by, selling alegría and I bought those and gave him that, too.

The look on his face was pure shock. He had only asked for peanuts.
He walked back towards his accordion-playing dad with his hands full, and a spring in his step, and I felt a little better knowing that they'd have something extra to eat today.

- - - - -

Now about that angry rant.

As much as I love Oaxaca - and I really, really love it here - there is one thing that I just can't figure out how to approach: the bounty of unwanted attention.

I can handle the annoying noises.
I just pretend I don't hear them. I keep my head down. I don't make eye contact. I don't say hello.
Well, 88% of the time.

But despite trying to make myself invisible, the fact of the matter is simply that I'm not. And I'm different.

And I'm not sure why, but for some reason my differentness seems to be synonymous with "Hey, complete stranger! Yeah, you! I don't know you but why don't you come talk to me? I'd really love to answer all your really personal questions!"

At least once a day, but usually 2 or 3 times, I am approached by a complete stranger (of the male variety). Sometimes, these conversations are innocent: why are you here, what do you think about Oaxaca?

But more often than not, they go like this:
Them: (catching pace with me) "Hola."
Me: - Looking at them without saying anything. -
Them: Are you here for vacations?
Me: No. I live here.
Them: What do you do?
Me: I have a job. That's why I live here.
Them: Where did you learn Spanish?
Me: Good question.
Them: Where do you live?
Me: Here.
Them: - laughing because I'm being difficult. -
Me: - still walking -
Them: You're really a beautiful woman.

This typically ends in a proposition of some sort. Am I interested in going to a hotel? Do I want to hook up somewhere? Do I live alone?

What I want...is to walk down the street...in peace.

I realize this sounds like a silly thing to continue to be angry about. But, unless you have to deal with it on a regular basis, you don't really get it. A lot of people here don't get it. I was recently walking down the street with a male friend, local to the area, and out of seemingly nowhere he exasperatedly said, "Is this what it's like for you every time you leave the house?"

And all he was witnessing were the stares. I was walking with him, so no one was going to say anything to me.

Before I could answer his question, he answered it himself saying that it's probably 10x worse when I'm by myself, and that he'd never realized it was so bad.

- - - - -

This is the last I'll complain about it for a while. But sometimes it destroys your confidence. It shakes you. It makes you question everything about yourself. The way you're dressed, the way you walk, the way you hold your head up. It makes you hyper aware of everything.

You always have an audience.

But I have found that if you make a really ridiculous face at people when they say something crass, they often don't know what to do with themselves, or how to interact with you.

And it's hilarious.