Babies toddling around in split pants, small dogs dressed in colorful coats with matching booties, and elderly people walking backwards at the crack of dawn are all sights that make a curious foreigner like me stop and stare.
But, of course, there has to be a bit of give and take, and I myself, with short peroxide blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tendency to wander around less popular parts of Beijing "exploring", receive my fair share of gawking from locals.
Sometimes such attention can be flattering. On Christmas day, I went to Chongwenmen church. Nestled in Hougou hutong, this uniquely shaped building is a gem. The church was crammed with people who had braved the freezing night to worship and celebrate.
Upon spotting a lonesome foreigner, one of the ushers hurried over and found me a seat, despite it being so busy. The elderly lady I sat next to beamed at me, crumpling her wisdom-lined face into a prune.
I was just getting comfortable when the usher returned, pulled me up and gave me a place right at the front of the church. I had a perfect view of the pageant of carols and music that followed.
At other times looking different is plain annoying. A few summers ago, when I was one of the few Westerners on a 25-hour train journey from Guangzhou to Kunming, I was inundated with offers of conversation from people who wanted to improve their English. I succumbed for a while, but after hours of labored talk with one person after another I was rather exhausted.
Sometimes one is asking to become a spectacle. This happened on a weekend when I went running in the northwestern corner of Beijing with the city's Hash House Harriers.
Hash running groups are prevalent in cities worldwide. It was originally devised by a group of British soldiers based in Malaysia who met to run, socialize and drink beer.
The idea is that one or two people lay a trail marked by symbols drawn in chalk. Then the runners follow the trail. There are a couple of stops for refreshment along the way. At the end of the run the whole group gathers to drink beer, sing songs, introduce newcomers and make fools of one another.
The trail we followed meandered through hutong alleys, zigzagged over a dried out river, and passed over a hill where a Hollywood-styled sign read "protect the woods from fire" in huge red characters.
When the run was over, 23 of us stood shivering in a circle. We looked a motley crew. Europeans, Americans, British, Chinese, men and women ranging in age, chugging beer and singing songs in the freezing air.
After about 40 minutes we had pulled in quite a crowd. Elderly men on bicycles stopped in their tracks and peered at the goings-on. A couple of little girls pointed and squealed, edging closer in curiosity, as their mothers tried to control them. Middle-aged men puffed on their cigarettes and stared, bemused. A couple of security guards glared, poised for action.
We all lived in the same city, but at that moment it was as if our circle and the spectators were worlds apart. Happily, both participants and observers let each other be and when the circle dispersed so did the crowd.
Sometimes I see people act in ways that are new to me and I have to stare, but I wouldn't dream of interrupting. I just look, and having satisfied my curiosity wander on.
So, when I get a little attention, however unwanted, I realize it's just part of the deal, and as long as you let people get on with it, a little give and take of staring helps us all learn a bit more about each other.
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