Last week, I blew up (in Azerbaijani) at a teenage boy who thought it would be cute to make faces at me.
This week, I spent 20 minutes explaining the ethnic differences between my site mate Jessica and I to a guy at the bazaar.
Maybe I am losing it.
Now, don't get me wrong. Most times, I love this piece of my job. I love being a living example that not all Americans are blond and blue-eyes, but come on! A few weeks ago, a guy would not let up that I must be an Arab and therefore, a terrorist (yes, I was called a terrorist).
It's just...whew. Sometimes, sometimes I want to just be a girl on the street and not the uncommon looking self-proclaimed American who attracts every sort of attention.PS The picture is of me making cherry wine.
