Category Archives: Beauty

Chicago as a visitor many times over and the Obama Presidential Center

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Given Chris and I have already traveled to Chicago a lot before, we didn’t have much of a tourist list of things to see and do when we got here. While I created a map of interesting restaurants and bakeries, there wasn’t any single place I felt we absolutely had to go to. The main thing I wanted to see this time around, which was obviously not around in any previous visit, was the Obama Presidential Center, which is located on the South Side of Chicago and just opened in June of this year. Unfortunately when we booked this trip in June, official tickets to enter the center were already sold out… through October. But upon doing research, we discovered that this wasn’t the worst outcome because so much of the center, both indoors and outdoors, was open to the public and did not require any ticket. We were still able to enter the library portion, which is part of the Chicago Public Library system, and see lots of personal belongings of Barack and Michelle Obama. We got to see photographs, murals, and paintings of their lives and the values they believe in. I loved the grounds, the walking paths, and the vegetable garden (of course, Kaia was also a huge fan). My favorite thing I got to see was likely the ridiculously long mural in the library with far too many colors and ideas to see in a single viewing. Even without access to the main museum, we could easily have spent a longer time there exploring the beautiful grounds.

Another favorite, quiet part for me was the Ann Dunham Water Terrace, dedicated to Barack Obama’s mother, who was an anthropologist by training and a huge influence on his life. In his words, “My mother, Ann Dunham, was the biggest influence on my life. She had a core belief in our common humanity, and she made sure I recognized the inherent dignity in every person.” This was noted as a “touchstone vital not only for a political career but for a life of service,” hence why the structure is made of two massive round stones, with water that flows from one to the other. She died quite young, at the age of 52, from uterine cancer. This heavily influenced Obama’s desire and push for healthcare reform, as she spent her last days worrying about expensive medical bills. While his mom had employer-sponsored health insurance that covered most of the costs of her medical treatment, she still had a large deductible and uncovered expenses, which were denied by her insurance for coverage because the insurance company considered her cancer a “preexisting condition.”

I’m really happy that despite not having tickets to see the entirety of the center that we were still able to come visit and experience the vast areas open to the public. I was thrilled that Kaia’s first presidential library experience was at Barack Obama’s, and that we got to do the super touristy thing of “posing” with Barack and Michelle altogether (okay, fine, their statues!). While I am pretty pessimistic at the direction the U.S. is going, especially with the current Dipshit administration for the disgusting second time around, somehow being here for the few hours we visited imbued me with a little more hope, a little more faith for the future. I need to have a little more hope and faith… at the minimum for Kaia’s sake.

Last day with family in San Francisco for this year

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My family tends to go through the same behavioral patterns in the last day or two when I am home. My mom goes through an anxious, angry period where she is either aggressive or passive aggressive with me, getting mad at me for innocuous things or accusing me of having feelings or intentions that she makes up. If I am not home during a given period, she will call repeatedly and ask when I am coming home; this is her way of actually saying, you need to come home now. On Monday, we planned to have dinner at my aunt’s upstairs, and my uncle would also be joining us. She asked us to come at 5 since my uncle needs to leave early since he cannot drive in the dark. So at around 3 while in Mission Bay with Chris and Kaia, I called home to let my dad know that we’d be back before 4. I could hear my mom in the background saying I was late and that I needed to come home right away. I could hear her angst, but I shrugged it off.

We went to pick up ice cream (black sesame and mango!) from Joe’s Ice Cream, a neighborhood ice cream shop that’s been around since I was a kid. Then we walked home from there. When we arrived back and I came into the kitchen, that was when I could feel my mom glaring at me with her eyes burning. “It’s almost 4 o’clock now. You are late,” she hissed at me. “You should have been home a long time ago! They are already upstairs waiting for us and eating.” Um. It wasn’t even 4pm. Who the hell was going to be eating dinner at this time? I said nothing and did as I promised, which was to help make a steamed eggplant dish to bring to the dinner along with my purchased dessert. She proceeded to get mad that we went out at all today and didn’t tell her, as she was hoping we could “talk more” together. I did not have that same hope.

As 4:50 rolled around, my mom started yelling that we’re all late and that we all needed to get upstairs, pronto. I was still cleaning up and washing dishes in the kitchen. Kaia was running around happily. My dad was doing something somewhere in the basement. Chris was lying on my bed, asking what the rush was. The reason she wanted us to go upstairs as soon as possible was that she wanted us to be done with this family dinner as soon as possible. She can only keep up her “family dinner” face for so long, and she had nothing to say to my uncle. While at dinner when we were asking my aunt questions about her potentially changing living situation, my mom got mad at me for asking questions and insisted we “let her eat her dinner.” I told her that it’s normal to have a conversation at the dinner table, and that shut her up; not everyone wants to eat in silence and call that a “family dinner” for god’s sake. It’s almost like she is in pain being at a dinner table with any wider family members and she needs to find a way to make it stop as soon as possible. When they invite her, she feels a need to “return the favor” and invite them back right away, which is “suffering.” Thinking about this is so exhausting.

There were some nice moments, though. This morning before we left, Kaia kept insisting to my dad that he show her his worms in his compost pile before leaving. Obviously this made my dad beyond thrilled, so he was happy to comply with her ask. Then as he rummaged through random junk in the garage, she insisted she wanted to stay with him to watch what he was doing. This attachment she’s developed to my dad has been really endearing. Every time she yells, “GONGGONG! GONGGONG!” and runs after him, it makes me smile and chuckle. Chris commented that my dad has probably never felt more desired or more affection from another human in his entire life before now. He is probably right.

And as we packed up the car to go to the airport, while she was being a little bratty and refused to give my mom a hug and kiss until the very last minute, she had zero problem giving my dad endless hugs and kisses and grabbing onto his leg until she had to let go and get into the car. My dad’s big goofy grin in this moment was pretty epic… and this is coming from someone who never uses that word.

When we got to the airport lounge and sat down, I asked Kaia if she missed Popo and Gonggong. She nodded her head and quietly said a drawn out, “Yeah.” Then, she didn’t say anything for while, but out of nowhere looked at me and said, “We never got to see Jiujiu… because he died.”

Yes, that is true. At least she waited to say that until after my parents were gone because I am not sure how they would have reacted to hearing Kaia say this.

Presidio Tunnel Tops: nature-inspired and a great outdoor gift

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A couple years ago, my friend with kids told me that at the San Francisco Presidio, a large outdoor children’s play area had opened with sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the entire city skyline. Built on top of 14 acres right on top of highway tunnels in San Francisco, Presidio Tunnel Tops connects the historic Presidio military base to the Crissy Field waterfront. It’s It’s open to the public, has clean, well maintained restrooms, and has a whole line-up of rotating food trucks just steps away from it seven days a week.

I originally wanted to organize a meetup/play date there last year, but we ran out of time. So assuming the crappy San Francisco weather cooperated with us this time, I insisted we go today to meet my friends and their kids. Luckily, the weather worked out in our favor, and we ended up having a beautiful, high-60s F, blue-sky day! Presidio Tunnel Tops has been open for just over four years now, and I was really impressed: the playground is nature-inspired, with areas for kids to play featuring boulders, logs, and lots of different water features. And unlike many children’s play areas, this is specifically designed to be interesting for kids ranging in age from two to 12. That way, if you have kids of varying ages, you can rest easy knowing that one won’t get bored faster than the other.

I also really enjoyed the variety and quality of food options available at the nearby mobile food trucks area. The Mess Hall just steps away from the Tunnel Tops recently opened, but only one major food vendor was operating, so that limited our options. The food trucks were the obvious place to go. The food ranged from Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Hawaiian shaved ice (!!), to Swahili (they called it “East African cuisine”), burgers, and fried chicken. I chose food from the Mexican truck Mestizo and the Swahili Spot trucks; both were delicious and things I’d order even not from a truck!

Given we met up at 10:30 and stayed in the Crissy Field area until about 3pm, we essentially were outdoors for over half the day. When I thought about this and how nice it was to maximize time outside during good weather, I realize that this is one of the very best qualities of Bay Area, or even specifically, San Francisco living: you don’t need to travel too far or even outside of city limits to get truly fresh, crisp air, beautiful green landscapes, and ocean/beach views. Hiking and easy walking trail opportunities are countless. As long as the weather cooperates with you or you can tolerate the cold, outdoor access is just easier and better here than in New York City. When you walk the trails of the Presidio Tunnel Tops or watch kids playing on these massive wooden structures there, you kind of forget you’re even in a “city” because of how natural the whole setup feels.

It makes me happy that I can not only expose all of these great things about San Francisco to Kaia, but also that she can have opportunities to play with my friends’ kids while here. Now that she’s 4.5, I have a feeling she will start remembering more and more of these experiences and recount them. I hope when she remembers and talks about these moments that she shares them with great joy.

A question I’ve never been asked before

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“Yvonne, who does your Botox?”

I wrinkled my brow and was completely caught off guard by the question. “Excuse me?” I blurted out. Did I hear this right?

“Who does your Botox?” my friend asked again with a smile on her face.

“Oh, I don’t do Botox!” I said, surprised. Then, I got confused. Does it look like parts of my face don’t move “normally”?! “Why, does it look like I do Botox?”

“No, not at all,” my friend insisted, still smiling and now laughing. “Your skin just looks so good. I thought you did Botox. In fact, doesn’t everyone do Botox?”

I laughed at this and paused. “Actually, I don’t think I have any friends who do Botox,” I replied to her.

She smiled even bigger this time. “Yes, you do. You have me.”

That’s when I was even more shocked. She does Botox?! She doesn’t look like she does it. As I’ve gotten into my mid-30s and am now 40, I can spot Botox on people’s faces pretty quickly. Some people are more obvious than others. But you can usually tell when you look at people who have been doing it for a long time. Their faces just do not move as naturally as they should when they smile or laugh. The tops of the cheeks and the foreheads that never move are usually the dead giveaway. She pointed out the three parts of her forehead where she’s been getting it done over the last year by her doctor friend, who shares a vial of Botox across three friends and splits the cost. I suppose she is an example of someone who does Botox where it actually looks natural.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, (friend’s name) hosts a Botox party about every three months,” my friend said. “And you are always more than welcome to join!”

In general, I’d always been against cosmetic surgery for things like eyelids surgery (UGH), boob jobs (except in the case of breast cancer related breast reconstruction, which frankly I do not consider “cosmetic”), face lifts, and anything related. I just think we have what we have, and we should work with what we have. On the other hand, I’m all for people getting things removed they do not like that really bother them (e.g. moles, sun spots, freckles, permanent body hair removal. Contrary to what Chris thinks, those procedures are not “cosmetic surgery.” They are cosmetic removals). And as we age, in general we should embrace the gift of getting older by taking care of our bodies, which includes our skin and hair. I’m a huge advocate of sun protection/sunscreen. I believe in regular exercise and eating well. And I believe in trying to reduce stressors, which all lead to a healthier and hopefully happier life and health span. And I’ve been pro retinol, vitamin C, and other skin nourishing ingredients forever. But outside of that, I never really considered any cosmetic surgery like Botox, fillers, or the like.

But then when my friend mentioned Botox, it started making me think of actual numbers. And that’s when I asked ChatGPT to give me a breakdown of usage: It shared that about 5 percent of the U.S. population aged 25 and above uses cosmetic Botox. The breakdown is estimated to be: 20% Baby Boomers and older; 39% Generation X; 35% Millennials; 6% Generation Z and younger. So that’s about 12 million people in this country — not a small number.

As I’ve gotten older, while I still do not think any of those cosmetic procedures are right for me (and more so, I absolutely am not willing to pay any of those prices out of pocket!), I’ve relaxed my general stance on them. At the end of the day, people have to do what they are comfortable with, and if they have the time and money to spend on these procedures, and they make them feel good about themselves, then all power to them. Plus for women especially, the beauty and “youth” standards are so stupid, senseless, and unrealistic that I totally understand why some women would just default to Botox, fillers, etc., once they get to a certain age, assuming they have a certain level of means. Yes, even today, the ageism against women continues to be that worse versus for men. So much for the equaling of the damn sexes.

Kaia raises her hand to do chores

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In the last several months, we’ve been trying to encourage Kaia to do little chores to help out. Some tasks are very basic, such as putting her dirty clothes from the day into the washing machine, adding her socks into her zipped-up sock laundry bag (okay, this was really meant to be a lingerie washing bag I got as a freebie many moons ago, but I don’t wear delicate lingerie, so now you can see how it can be repurposed so we don’t lose tiny socks!), and taking off and tucking her shoes into the closet when she comes home.

There have been other areas where she’s proactively asked to help out. The biggest one that gives her lots of pride as of late is watering my plants. I have three plants by our kitchen window sill, plus my money tree right by the TV. The money tree is unique in that the directions say you shouldn’t add water to it, but instead should add two ice cubes to the pot once a week. That way, the water slowly but surely seeps into the soil and evenly spreads across the money tree’s roots. When we returned from our Caribbean trip, the money tree was very, very upset with me. It hadn’t been watered in over two weeks, and every single leaf was drooping down. So I made sure to give it extra ice cubes. Kaia noticed this, and she asked if she could water the money tree from then on forward. That led to her asking about my other plants, and so she knows how I water them and approximately how frequently. She also knows which vessels I use to water them.

Another thing she likes to help out with is emptying out the recycling bin and the compost. I use a specific plate for compost scraps, and we have a cardboard box in our front hallway where we keep the recyclables. So when she knows it’s time to empty either out, she rushes to come out with me. I tell her which bin what type of trash belongs in (paper vs. bottles vs. compost), and she tries to remember which one is which each time as she takes one recyclable at a time.

From what I have read, there’s a small window (approximately ages 3-6, depending on how early you start) where kids are happy to do chores because they want to feel like they are contributing to the family. So I’m happy to see that Kaia is interested and I don’t have to force her to do things… yet. The last thing I want is some entitled princess who thinks everything should be done for her. I can only hope this desire to help out continues!

13 years.

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Dearest Ed,

Today marks 13 years since you died. It’s strange to think that it’s actually been that long. But every year when we reach this anniversary, I also think that it feels like just yesterday. They say that when you love someone deeply and were truly connected to them, a part of them continues to live on within you — in the way you speak, hear, listen, see. Maybe that’s why sometimes when I think of you now, my initial feeling is not always of sadness, but rather of a strange joy — a joy that can only be felt and known if you genuinely loved someone to the core. Although I could not always have the types of conversation I wished I could have with you given your struggles, I always knew that you loved me deeply. That’s why it’s painful to remember that you’re no longer here.

For the very first time at the age of 4.5, Kaia has been able to have a real conversation about you with me. I was telling her that today was the anniversary of your passing. She didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I told her that thirteen years ago today, you “passed from the earth” in Chinese. That’s the polite way of saying that someone “passed away” or died in Chinese. She’s been asking more about death lately — about our Nainai dying, about bugs and lantern flies dying. So she understood what I said what I conveyed this to her.

“He died today…. 13 years ago?” she asked me in a whisper today. “That means he’s not here anymore?”

I told her this was true. She responded, “I’ve never seen Jiujiu. I only get to see him in pictures. Is this why?”

My heart ached when she asked me this. I could feel my eyes welling up. These are important things for her to know and understand. I just wasn’t quite expecting this at this moment.

“Why did he die?” she asked me. “What happened?”

The full, unvarnished truth isn’t quite preschooler-friendly. One day, she will learn the full story, but not now… not for a while. For now, I told her that her Jiujiu was sick, and he didn’t get the help he needed, and so he passed.

“Where is he now?” she asked me. She had a deep look of concern in her eyes.

“He’s up there, watching over us every day,” I said while motioning towards the sky. I may not fully believe in God, but given you are a Christian, I might as well tell Kaia something that he believed. “He watches over us, protects us, and loves us. Do you know how much he loves you? Jiujiu would have loved to have met you!”

She nodded her head. “Does that mean he can fly… the way birds do?” Kaia asked me.

“Maybe,” I tentatively replied to her. “Just maybe.”

“But I don’t want to die! I don’t want to get sick and die!” she moaned.

Oh, dear. This was going down not-great territory. I told her that Jiujiu’s situation was a lot different. Not everyone just gets sick and dies. It’s a lot more complicated than that. I told her that she will (hopefully) live a very, very, very long life, and she won’t have to worry about dying for a long, long time. I told her that we’d protect her and take care of her as long as we could.

This seemed to calm her. She snuggled up against me and asked for more cuddles.

I wish a lot of things were true. I wish that you were still here, that you were healthy, of sound mind and body. I wish that you could have a relationship with your niece. I wish she could know you in the flesh and not just see you in photos. But now, the most I can ask for is that I hope you are at peace. I still think of you every day, many times multiple times a day. And while others may have forgotten or try to forget you, I will never forget you. I hope to honor your legacy in my life, and through raising Kaia as best as I can. I hope you approve of how I’ve done so far.

I love you. And I miss you every day. I hope you know that. We had soy sauce chicken to remember you today. I picked it up right before I picked Kaia up from summer camp. She asked me why I got soy sauce chicken, and I told her it’s because Jiujiu liked it. And today, we remember him. Do they make that up where you are? If not, feel free to sneak a bite from the fridge if you feel like coming down. I promise I won’t get mad.

With all my love,

Yvonne (& Kaia & Chris)

Three weeks ago, we were in Bridgetown, Barbados

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One of Chris’s favorite things to do in speech with me is to tell me that a week ago, we were doing this, or two weeks ago, we were doing that. Today, he said to Kaia and me during dinner, “Just a week ago, we were coming back from Tobago.” The Friday before that, we were in St. Lucia exploring Castries Market and buying lots of local exotic fruit (including three different types of mango!) and enjoying Pigeon Island. And the Friday before that, we had just started our summer trip in Barbados and were enjoying the fish fry scene in Bridgetown, with a super delicious and succulent grilled whole red snapper with lick-your-fingers-good Bajan seasoning. Every year I get older, time seems to move that much more quickly. All these new, fun, happy, learning, cultural, exciting moments seem to come and go just like that. And it further makes me realize how precious all our moments are together, whether that’s exploring a new place, having a meal or bite of something together, or just sitting in the same place at the same time enjoying the exact same thing. While Kaia is 4.5 years old and always wondering when the next thing is happening or, “why are we walking for so long?”, it almost feels sometimes like I am grasping at straws to make these happy moments last longer. It’s like those sentimental sayings and quotes I’ve oftentimes been served since pregnancy and first becoming a mother: sometimes, you just want this moment, this stage, to last forever. But, if it lasts forever, then you never get to enjoy the next great thing that will come!

Time is precious, life is precious, and our moments together are precious and finite. I think about all the experiences I’ve had in my life to date, whether it’s the places I’ve been privileged to go to and see, the foods I’ve eaten, the people I’ve built lasting relationships with, the marriage and life I’ve built with Chris, and having Kaia Pookie as my sweet baby, and I just feel so thankful and so lucky for this life. Life is good. And our memories are sweet.

Reflecting on kids clubs at hotels

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The first time I encountered and looked at a kids club was when we stayed at a hotel property in Cancun over an extended Memorial Day weekend in 2023. Kaia was just shy of 1.5 years old then, and it was the first time I ever thought about childcare at a hotel. There is usually a minimum age for kids clubs (age 3 or 4) at hotels that offer them, but I remember wondering if we’d ever use one for Kaia, even if just for an hour or so at some point.

The opportunity presented itself twice at two all-inclusive hotels we stayed at — the first was in Barbados, and the second in Grenada. At both properties on the day I took Kaia in, no other children were there. In Barbados at a sister all-inclusive resort we hung out at for a full day, Kaia refused to let me leave her there, so we ended up playing together while I spoke with the childcare provider. There, she made a little bracelet complete with two “very special” charms that Jengsel, the childcare provider, presented to her: one was a silver seashell, and the second was a little crystal heart with a pink heart inside. Of course, Kaia loved both because she loves shells, hearts, AND the color pink. So she savored this bracelet and kept talking about it.

At the Grenada resort, I actually did bring Kaia there twice on two separate days for about 2-3 hours at a time. There, she was completely comfortable being on her own with the childcare providers. The first childcare provider, Shenique, was the kind of babysitter most parents would dream about: she was extremely hands on, had lots of conversations with Kaia, did multiple activities with her, and gave very frequent Whatsapp reports back to me, complete with photos and videos showing what Kaia was up to. With Shenique, Kaia made another bracelet, one that truly looked like it could have been made professionally and purchased at a boutique. It has beautiful turquoise and orange stone-like beads with silver accents. Kaia loves both and keeps talking about her bracelets from Barbados and Trinidad. And she still mentions Shenique’s name despite their limited time together.

Now that Kaia is older and more verbal, she can always share what she does and what happens with us, so there’s not as big of a mystery of what goes on with babysitters or at kids clubs like this. She genuinely enjoyed her time there, which made me feel good. I was also happy to have the chance to take advantage of “free” babysitting (I mean, is it really “free” if you are paying all-inclusive rates…), even if it was just a couple three-hour bursts. It was a very positive sign to hear that she wanted to go back the second time in Grenada, that this showed what a good time she had and how much she liked the childcare providers. As another childcare provider said at this kids club, “In Grenada, we take good care of our babies here! We love them all!”

Mangoes with black spots = sign of ripeness in other countries, but a sign of rot/”bad” in the U.S.

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One thing I noticed while eating the many varieties of mangoes we were lucky to taste across four Caribbean islands on this trip was that many of them are ripe when they have black spots. This is actually a good thing, not a bad thing: it signals to us that they are ready to eat, and we should eat them right away! This was the case for the Julie and mango longues, and especially true for the starch and dodo mangoes. We got told from multiple vendors, as well as our smoothie guy who gifted us the five cutlass mangoes in Port of Spain, that black spots were a positive thing. The funny thing is that I told Chris that this would absolutely not fly in the U.S. You could never have a display of mostly black spotted mangoes in the U.S. and actually get those to sell — no freaking way!

The strange thing, though, is that black spots with mango varieties readily available in the U.S. — so Ataulfo (champagne, our default from March to June) and Kent — actually are not good when they have black spots. For these two mango varieties that come from Mexico, black spots are a sign that they have really gone bad or are about to go bad. I know this after peeling and cutting hundreds and hundreds of mangoes over the years. Sometimes we don’t monitor the mangoes closely enough, and the black spots appear. And once the spots appear, this is truly a sign of rot. Those parts don’t taste good, or they actually smell off. Some of them become mush in the parts where the black spots are.

The American public is quite superficial when it comes to produce. Everyone wants picture-perfect fruit and vegetables, oftentimes at the expense of taste, flavor, and even nutrition. It’s partly why mainstream supermarket tomatoes look super red and plump but often taste like nothing or are mealy in texture inside. So I doubt that even if Trinidad and Tobago could export mango longue or starch mangoes to the U.S. that they would do well from a sales perspective outside of ethnic markets in neighborhoods with a large Caribbean population. That is sad, a real loss for someone like me who wants every single mango variety possible at the tips of her fingers!

Orange-winged amazons outside our window in Port of Spain; warnings around the world from well-meaning older ladies

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Today was our last morning in Trinidad and Tobago, as well as our last day of this trip before flying home. From our hotel window, I watched as many orange-winged amazons flew in pairs around the large trees along Queen’s Park Savannah. From what I can remember, this is likely the most fascinating bird watching area of the world I’ve ever been in. I’ve already lost count of the number of different, colorful, and gorgeous bird species I’ve been lucky to see here. Even Kaia has gotten into it: she also loved watching the orange-winged amazons fly around in Port of Spain. In Grenada, she pointed out new birds she noticed. And just two days ago, she excitedly pointed out a little kiskadee, which is considered the best known bird of Trinidad.

“It’s yellow! It’s yellow!” Kaia kept shrieking delightfully.

Kaia noticed the little kiskadee because of its bright yellow breast. It had a black and white streaked face with a brown back. These birds are known to be very loud chirpers and have fearless behavior; it didn’t seem to mind us being so close. I’m not that excited to go back to New York and mostly see pigeons and seagulls again — the freaking rats and roaches of the bird world. I suppose the sparrows and the occasional American robin are fine.

We had limited time in the morning before we had to head to the airport, so we took a quick trip to Charlotte Street, the main drag of Port of Spain Chinatown, to browse and also finally buy a magnet for this segment of our trip. Saturday morning is a great time to be in Port of Spain Chinatown, as all the fruit and vegetable vendors have their little stalls set up so you can buy their fresh produce. Lots of people were walking the streets to buy food; it felt like we may have been the only tourists there. We saw piles and piles of scotch bonnets, pimento peppers, papayas, multiple mango varieties, and other fresh fruit and vegetables waiting to be purchased. I crossed a street to take a look at a bakery I noticed, and as I was leaving the bakery, an older Trini woman, likely in her late 60s, stopped me and got close to my face.

“I’m a Trini woman, born and raised here,” the older lady started with me. “And I can tell you that these streets are not safe for someone like you. Why are you here? There are other places for you to go and see!”

I have lost count of the number of times I’ve been stopped by well meaning older women who tell me that I shouldn’t be in a certain area, with my phone or camera in my hand. They’ve told me that I should stay and walk close to my husband, that someone will easily hurt or rob me in a given place.

“Why am I here?” I wrinkled my brow at her. “I wanted to come see the fruit! What’s wrong with this area? I am perfectly fine!”

“You want to buy fruit? Then you should go down that street over there!” She responded, pointing out Independence Square. There were very, very few fruit vendors on that next street…

I told her I was walking across the street, and she said that she would walk with me. I had no idea what she wanted from me and why she was being so forceful. When she saw that I was meeting Chris and Pookie, she started telling Chris to not let me walk on my own, to always stay close to me, that it was dangerous to let me walk by myself along that street. Chris insisted to her that I was fine and everything was good. She finally relented and walked off.

I know all these ladies around the world mean well. But what they may not realize they could be doing is inadvertently perpetuating the potential perceived notions of their countries being dangerous places to be or visit. That’s not really a great way to market your town or country.