Opposite color.

Tonight, there is no better feeling than the gentle rustle of a bedsheet against bare skin. I lay awake in the first warm darkness and a fan whirs overhead. We have slept most of the day and part of the night. In the pre-dawn hours, we are both alert and wondering what the light will bring.

We hear a knock at the door - room service. Would we like coffee/tea/breakfast to go with the paper that has slipped under the door? The man appeared as if anticipating the flip of a switch inside our room – and I wonder how long he has been ready to provide this service. It is early. The sun is just beginning to illuminate the cool gray concrete of the wall outside our window.

An army of rickshaw drivers greets us as we step outside the protective walls of our lodge. With so many pairs of deep brown eyes pleading for our business, how do we choose? It is morning cool and we will walk.

Through a maze of motion, we soon realize that caution will not serve. Bicycles weave through mule carts weave through motorbikes weave through rickshaws weave through buses – a tightly knit fabric. People fill spaces without hesitation. As we step off the curb, I remember playing ‘Frogger’ as a child and quietly smile.

The onslaught of sound is deafening – horns blaring, motors chugging, men chattering – all of it echoing the assault of cacophonous smells. The sweetness of jasmine. The pungency of urine. The earthiness of sandalwood. The acrid waft of burning plastic. As my darting gaze tries to match sight with smell with sound, I see the silhouette of a cow through the haze of smoldering trash. It’s like a barnyard fell into a town fell into a landfill fell into a city. Though there appear to be no rules, there are no collisions. Every space is full, everyone is present.

For some reason, we have decided to visit the zoo. I find this funny, for I always go to the zoo when I travel, but never where I live. Also, most zoos are similar - and I usually end up feeling quite sad for the animals. This morning, I welcome the tranquil shade that greets us beyond the gate and feel soothed.

I recognize the faint discomfort of looming eyes immediately. It began out on the street, but there was way too much happening to mind. There are a lot of people in this country – and so far, it seems there are mostly men. No less than three at a time and sometimes eight or nine – standing, walking, eating, selling, riding, watching. Here, they are watching the animals and they are watching me.

It is subtle at first. As the sun rises higher in the midday sky, so does their audacity. Eyes follow me from a distance; keep watch as I approach; stare from inches away. When my gaze meets theirs, I am the first to smile or turn away. They have no sense of discomfort, nor curiosity. I have both. There is merely a stare. Sometimes a simple word – hello. And then there are children.

Before we know it, we are surrounded by children and they are curious and smiling and saying hello, where are you from? Can we take a picture? They are pressing small bodies onto the bench beside us, lining up behind us, and sprawling on the ground in front of us. Their teacher holds the camera. I am under the impression we will be talked about more than the giraffe or the hippopotamus and wonder what they will say – what they are saying as I sit here and smile. It is innocent and fun and exciting and when they move on to the chimpanzee, this charge dissipates from the air as quickly as it came .

I miss their enthusiasm immediately. For a moment, it mirrored my own and I felt at ease. It is my first day in a new place and while I don’t appear any different to these animals, I appear very different to these people. The next group to approach is more reserved. The men speak to us in English; the women smile demurely from a distance. After we tell them where we are from and learn that they are managers on a company outing, we begin to move on. Then, there is a space on the bench among the women and I am invited to sit down. Everyone crowds around and as Dan lines up the shot, I hear giggles behind me. ‘Opposite color,’ they observe. I turn and laugh and nod my head yes, opposite color.