The "locals"

A note on the locals, so to speak. (For some reason this net cafe doesn't allow me to do quotation marks, so apologies in advance.)

Throughout these posts I've said, the locals, the locals. The locals were out in force. The locals were dancing x, y, and z. It's almost like I'm avoiding the locals in some instances these days, so it begs the question of what's the point of traveling then?

The truth is, for the most part, the locals are actually amazingly hospitable, friendly, well-meaning and just lovely people. Villagers, especially women and kids, are so happy to speak some words of English with you, will wave, and just get a thrill out of you waving back. It's sweet, and a bit sad.

In many areas this is the case. Though you do also have the endemic-to-the-third-world money grubbing affliction. But who can blame them? That makes it tough if you're always feeling ripped off. And yet, the biggest negative connotation to the term local has really been the locals in tourist areas, in areas where their exposure to Western culture and Western people is actually quite intense, but altogether superficial. It is a visual interaction, women wearing less clothing, swimming in the equivalent of underwear, dancing out in public among men. Culturally the local women do not do that. Do not show their skin, or even go into the water unless fully clothed. Even then, most don't go in the water. There is a bit of a negative commentary in touristy areas such as Arugam Bay, an underlying discussion about the locals and them being out.

For example, today at Siam House, Simon mentioned the locals out all on the beach. Then he retracted his comment, somewhat, "I mean, it's their beach." (Woah I found the quotation marks again!) He continued on, saying, the bar would not be like it was the night before. That the locals drive out business by drinking elsewhere, mobbing the dance floor and bar area, and driving out all the women, and therefore the Western men who are also buying drinks. Business suffered last night, and tonight would be different. I'm not quite sure what that entails, but again, there is a definite difference between true locals, and those somewhat exposed in their unrealistic worlds to tourists. Apparently there are tours among villages in the area where young men come up to view white women's flesh. It's disgusting, and it's very very objectifying. And unlike any other guidebook I've read, or country whose people I've read about, there are very specific warnings about the "lack of shame" among the men. I do believe that is not pervasive, perhaps, but I do think it is quite problematic.

On a somewhat separate note, I neglected to mention the most curious and unsettling incident of my day yesterday. I walked into a market here (Home Feeds, or something like that), and was planning to get some ice cream. Well, I asked a local how much it would cost. When I asked the store manager, he quoted me a price about 20 to 30 rupees higher. In some cases, double the cost of the item. I pointed out to him that these particular items I was looking at (sunblock, citronella and ice cream) were a lot cheaper in Colombo. He said, "Colombo, huh?"

"Where are you from?"

I responded.

"How old are you?"

I responded.

"Take this, that, that, there." He pointed back to where they'd come from. I puzzlingly did what he asked. Then he motioned me out the door of his store. I did just that, quite unnerved by the whole thing. I still have no idea what happened, though I have some guesses. I went elsewhere for my ice cream, and paid a lot more.

I'll post in a bit about my afternoon. Here's a teaser while I remember it: found Alfonso, ATM trip to Pottuvil, and then a tuktuk ride to Crocodile Lagoon. Crocodiles, elephant track and dung, strange rash on my foot, random spots on me, rubbing said spots until my skin bled. And now, the net cafe.

IJW