While I like to consider myself a fairly classy broad, my affinity for trashy tabloids betrays me. Many people have a guilty pleasure and magazines full of candid photos of celebrities happens to be mine! I enjoy flipping through page after page of pictures of famous people doing ordinary things like pumping gas or pushing a cart through the grocery store. Believe me, I'm not proud of it, but celebrities have always intrigued me even though they're "just like us." (I blame my grandma who let me read her "National Enquirer" issues when I was a little girl!)
Occasionally there's news that a movie star has had enough of the invasive photography and he reaches his breaking point. Punches are thrown. Lawsuits are in the works. Restraining orders are enforced. And I'm thinking, "what's the big deal? It's just a couple snap shots."
Obviously I'm no celebrity, but after living in small villages overseas, I've begun to get a glimpse of what the big deal might be and why celebs can't stand papparazzi. In fact, I reached my own breaking point after being swarmed by strangers for the hundredth time in Nepal.
Whenever my team enters an area that doesn't see a lot of tourists, we're typically greeted by a small crowd of people staring at us in fascination. We look different than the locals and therefore draw a lot of attention. Most are just curious about us and where we've come from because they rarely see white people besides in the movies. Others are hoping for a chance to practice conversational English. Whatever the reason, we instantly take on VIP status, if only in the minds of the strangers whose town we are visiting.
Every time I walked down the dirt road in my little Nepali village, I was approached by strangers who asked for photos with me. Some would suddenly thrust their baby at me and then take a picture of me holding their bundle of joy! It sounds bizarre, I know, but I honestly could not go unnoticed when I left the house.
At first it was flattering to receive so much attention. I knew I didn't do anything to earn the special treatment, but it was fun and harmless and there was little I could do about it anyway. But at some point I simply wanted to walk to the corner store without having to answer questions like, "what is your name, sister?" or "why are your cheeks the color of red?" from dozens of people whose paths I would cross on the way. Where did my anonymity go? How could I keep to myself without being rude?
On our final full day in that village, I went to an outdoor market with a few other ladies from my squad. We made oour way from booth to booth and before long, we'd gathered a following. There were at least eight curious people who trailed behind us as we explored the market in the intense heat of the afternoon sun.
While waiting for one of the girls to complete her transaction, I found myself totally surrounded by villagers. There were now fifteen sets of eyes all fixed on me. I don't know if it was the heat that made me snap or if it was the annoyance of being followed around, but I had simply had enough. I knew they didn't speak English, but I asked them anyway, "what are you all looking at?!" Blank stares.
"If you want something to watch, I'll give you something worth looking at!" And with that, I dumped the water from my 32 ounce water bottle on my head! The crowd snickered and then quickly dispersed. Not my usual behavior in public, but I'd managed to get them to leave me alone for the time being and get some relief from the heat!
My American travel companions were amused by the scene I'd made, but I think we shared some of the same questions: how do we maintain our space and privacy? How do we keep ourselves from similar episodes in the future when faced with such intense curiosity? How will we last the rest of the trip if this unwanted attention and scrutiny continues?
If there was a tabloid targeted to Nepali villagers, I guarantee there would be a photo of me in there with drenched hair and a partially wet shirt standing amongst fruit carts. I'm not exactly proud of my over-the-top response, but I'm learning as I go. What would you do with incessant and unwarranted attention? How do you think you'd respond to having all eyes on you whenever you emerge from your front door?
After getting a tiny taste, celebrity status is no longer so intriguing or desirable to me. I'm ready to embrace obscurity.
