Tag: Japan

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Aunties and uncles

Why do we call our elders ‘uncle’ or ‘aunty’? What is behind this habit of addressing unknown elders with respect?
Shweytaby Shweyta Mudgal

Over the phone earlier this week, Mom announced “Uncle and aunty came home for dinner last night.” To my response – “Which uncle and aunty?” she clarified with their first names, which is when I knew. Not just who came to dinner, but what my column this week would be about – the Asian obsession with christening everyone ‘Uncle’ or ‘Aunty’!

Being part of a nuclear family in Mumbai with all our kin living in other cities ensured that most of the relationships my parents and I made were non-familial. Add to these, the other hundred-odd ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’ that I accumulated in the colony, just by virtue of having spent a childhood there!

So when it came to referring to any of these – the rude middle-aged man who sold me school stationary every year; the annoying building resident who quizzed me on my life each time our paths crossed; the old tailor to whom I’d accompany Mom as a child, but later abandoned because of his judgmental issues over my ‘plunging neckline’ requests or Dad’s endearingly nice colleague – the term ‘Uncle’ was used uniformly for all of them, no questions asked! Whether or not they were ‘Uncle-worthy’ in commanding my respect (the first three certainly weren’t), they still had to be called ‘Uncle’.

Similarly, Mom’s best friend, female colleagues, the neighbourhood gossipmonger or the saleswoman in the saree store were all ‘aunties’ – a term now universally applied to every middle-aged woman across Asia.

The entire Asian continent believes that first names are not enough to refer to strangers by. Here, family names are employed to refer to people from a certain gender and age group. Chinese sistersSomeone roughly your age is either your younger or elder brother or sister, while people that are roughly your parents’ age are your Aunt or Uncle. Anyone older is a Grandparent.

Family terms in Korean are the most complex. ‘Emo’ and ‘Gomo’ are the ‘Maasi’ and ‘Bua’ equivalents in Korean, both meaning ‘Aunt’, but depending on which parent’s sister one is talking about. Yet, ‘Emo’ is also used to refer to one’s mother’s close female friend or an older female server at a restaurant.

In China, children are taught to give each other a ‘title’ as well. ‘Ge ge’ and ‘di di’ mean older and younger brother while ‘jie jie’ and ‘mei mei’ mean older and younger sister, reminiscent of the Hindi ‘Bhaiya’ and ‘Didi’ reference made in India.

In Japan, societal mores are highly defined on the parameters of social address. First-name basis relationships exist only between good friends and those that are comfortable in each other’s company. Everyone else is referred with a ‘- San’ or ‘- Chan’ appended to their last names, with the latter being used strictly only for close friends, children or youth under the age of 20.

Filipinos are very family-oriented too, referring to older men or women as ‘Kuya’ or ‘Aate’ (Brother or Sister) or ‘Tito’ or ‘Tita’ (Uncle or Aunt) while anyone aged is referred to as ‘Lolo’ and ‘Lola’ (Grandpa and Granny).

With Asian immigration, some of this title practice has reached the US, too. In Hawaii, for instance, it is normal to call anyone ‘Anake’ or ‘Anakala’ (Aunt or Uncle) or ‘Tutu’ or ‘Tutu Kane’ (Grandma or Grandpa) even if they are strangers. And in heavily-populated Asian communities within the US, ‘Uncle’ and ‘Aunty’ terms still abound, practiced by first-generation Indian-American children, much to the surprise of their other classmates, who must wonder how large an average Indian family is, for a child to have so many Aunties and Uncles.

Most of North America is more or less on a first-name basis with each other – be it your 70-year-old boss, your salt-and-pepper haired landlord, your elderly next door neighbour, the dean of your graduate school and even your mother or father-in-law. Simply put, if you’re not family, you’re not Aunty or Uncle here!

Americans and eldersThis Western practice of calling someone by their first name irrespective of their age has often been acclaimed on account of it’s ‘equalising’ temperament. Here, unlike in the East, old age or experience does not warrant new social callouts and ‘respect’ is not calibrated as per how one addresses another. An American in general is not a relative of a stranger and hence unknown to the ‘younger than me, older than me’ game that Asians love to play on a daily basis with everyone they interact.

Yet, my theory is that it is the sharp Asians that have this one all figured out! With their ever-increasing population and common aspirations to look perfectly alike, telling people apart from each other is becoming an increasingly arduous task. Adding to that confusion are their alliterative names. In such a scenario, all-encompassing terms such as ‘Aunty’ or ‘Uncle’ come to the rescue; not just by being contextually appropriate but if you’re like me, by being your saving grace – when you can’t tell one person from the other or worse still, have forgotten someone’s name!

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com and hopes she hasn’t upset the countless ‘Aunties’ and ‘Uncles’ reading this!

(Pictures courtesy articles.mercola.com, www.lds.org, marlameanslit349.blogspot.com)

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The unbearable loudness of chewing

Shweyta Mudgal hates the soundtrack that accompanies loud chewing and slurping at the table, but she’s learning to accept it.

There’s usually always one such person everyone knows. And if you’re unfortunate enough, there will be more than just one such person in your life. The kind of person that will give you an unrequired demonstration of the actual process of ingestion of food. Or as it is simply known to all of us – the act of eating.

They will do this with their mouths wide open while chewing their food, breaking it down into tiny miniscule molecules to be gulped into their oesophagus, once successfully swallowed. Often, the act is accompanied by a soundtrack to go with it. Depending on what is being eaten, the soundtrack may vary – ‘crunchy’ (cereal, cornflakes), slurpy (noodles, soup, hot drinks), gnawy (meat, thick bread or naan/ rotis), ‘smacky’ (usually while chewing gum) etc.

Irrespective of the content of the meal, almost always it will be ‘chompy’ (the prevalent, omnipresent, most certainly assured background score while eating any kind of food open-mouthed).

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate people. I quite like them actually. Most of my friends are people, as is my family. My problem starts when some of these people start to eat, and when I get subjected to watching a food show that I don’t really want to see. Perhaps these are the only kind of people I’d happily give a miss, considering my self-professed love for food shows otherwise. I do not particularly enjoy seeing or hearing food slosh around a gob, thanks very much! Yet try as I might, I always seem to end up in the near vicinity of some such exhibitive and noisy eaters sitting next to me.

Great mastication company has found me practically anywhere I’ve been in the world – in the offices I’ve worked at, at business meetings or social gatherings, in an airplane, in cafes, restaurants, bars, movie halls, trains, buses, just about everywhere. The annoying noisy eater is a sect, one that can be encountered anywhere on the map, wherever you go. Broadly speaking, this sect can be sub-divided into five main types of serial offenders.

1. The Slurpers. They can be found abusing liquids such as drinks, soups and other sloppy substances. They are guilty of wanting to savour the last drop of their juices, causing the much-disturbing, air-bubble-swallowing-kind of sucking sound that emerges desperately from a straw, long after the drink is devoured.

Our very own desi chai drinkers also fall under this category, as they sip relentlessly at the last drops of chai either from their cups or from the saucers they’ve been poured onto. This last drop is an opportunity not to be missed for them – a meal-time policy that probably arises from the fact that as Indians we do not believe in wasting food. Yet, when someone chooses to make this ‘no-wastage’ mantra apparent by slurping the last drop out of his tea cup or bowl of soup, he emanates a not-so-agreeable background score that sadly does not go down well in my music books. It makes me wonder if perhaps this can be done soundlessly as well – in a more publicly non-perturbing kind of way?

2. The Chompers. These people chew their food loudly, like cows or goats. At times, they can be heard from rooms away, which might be a good thing for some, as it tells you which room to avoid for a stipulated span of time in the near future.

3. The Smackers. They are most often found chewing gum with their mouth open. Every few minutes, on impromptu urges or on a more controlled rhythm you can find them blowing bubbles that go ‘smack’ in a few seconds, after which they go back to the ruminating process of chewing.

4. The Cracklers. They are usually found in movie halls where there is pin drop silence. Until of course, someone decides to shatter the silence with the loud crackling of a bag of chips or a handful of nachos, accompanied by the desperate sucking of sodas through straws (refer to no. 1 above). I wonder why there isn’t any pre-movie warning issued for that sound, as is done for the disturbance emerging from cell-phone usage and crying babies?

5. The Belchers. They feel the need to make a loud, hollow, unpleasant noise through the mouth after eating, by releasing gas from their digestive tracts, usually accompanied with a reckless odour, in an effort to let you know how much they have really enjoyed their meal. Wouldn’t a “Wow, that was a good meal” do the job just as well?

The irony here is that what is a killjoy to some, may not seem to bother others. In China for example, it is offensive to eat a meal noiselessly, since eating loudly indicates an appreciation of the food. In order to cool the soup a bit and to better diffuse the flavour in the mouth, soup is eaten by sipping from the spoon while breathing in. This method produces the slurping noise that is taboo to some.

A Korean co-worker may have seen through my futile attempts at hiding my disgust at his loud slurps and repetitive smacking, when we would go out to lunch together. He patiently explained that in Korea the norm was to eat with the mouth open. “The louder you chew, the more you compliment the chef,” he said, displaying to me his remarkable skill of simultaneously talking with his mouth wide open while busily chewing away at his kimchi.

A Japanese classmate was the most convincing when he gave me a personal demo in the art of ‘noodle slurping’ over a bowl of ramen. His reasons were two-fold; the first one being the “deliciousness” of the ramen soup – which he said is conveyed by the sound of slurping. And the second being, that slurping does in fact make the noodle taste better. When I counter-argued, he decided it was better explained to me in a language I understood best – that of wine tasting. Funnily enough, he mimicked me, taking a sip of wine, sucking air through the mouth to force air into the nasal passage, allowing the flavors to spread. It was the exact same logic with slurping noodles, he said. The flavors of the noodles and soup are multiplied when slurping. Needless to say, he did have a point.

Who knew that ten years later I’d find myself living in Asia, gradually getting more tolerant at the table with them slurpers! While the foodie in me appreciates the access to every possible kind of Asian food here, I do pay for this culinary exotica by sitting through the mandatory audio-visual presentation that goes along with it. I didn’t much notice it when I ate at the various ‘Chinatowns’ or ‘Little Tokyos’ of America. Here in Asia, this ‘slurp-phenomenon’ is an integral part of my daily life.

With a little self-conditioning (and a lot of self-motivation), I have managed to cross over to the other side at times – slurping my noodles out loud, especially when eating at local establishments where sucky, slurpy, sloppy sounds are the prevalent lunch chorus, convincing myself that my slurps add an element of authenticity to the ambience. And possibly the much-needed dampener that helps mute out the other slurpy sounds in the background, that my poor ear is still getting used to.

Because a part of me believes that one needs to be culturally tolerant with the way the world eats. And what better medium than food to assimilate oneself completely in a new terrain; to make the most of it? But it is this occassional slurping, that is the farthest I’ll go on this one, I think.

Eating with the mouth open still remains one of my top pet peeves. The solution is pretty simple. That of closing one’s mouth while eating. It not only spares those around you a view they’d rather not look at (especially while they’re eating as well), but also liberates them of the rather unappealing, cement-mixer kind of grinding soundtrack, courtesy your jaw-n-teeth productions. Perhaps I’d willingly make an exception for some cases, where the ability to eat with the mouth entirely closed is hindered due to one’s oral or dental composition, jaw structure, shape of teeth etc.

But, as for the rest of you, my dear open mouth chewers: We need to talk. Just not while you’re eating, that’s all!

*Goes back to slurping her ramen, lifts the bowl up to her mouth to drink the last drop of soup, lets out a loud happy ‘smack’ at the end and winks in appreciation at the hawker/chef in the distance* 

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com and is soon beginning to realise that no amount of staring in disgust can make habitual, loud, open-mouthed eaters, conscious enough to stop. *Sigh*

(Pictures courtesy stevieblunder.blogspot.com, Shane Bauer, froogalism.com, mswitten.wikispaces.com)

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Tipping is not a city in China*

Shweyta Mudgal reaches tipping point – she learnt the hard way that tipping waiters is not always a great idea.

His first tip to me was – “Do not tip.” My dear friend and host, who had been living in Rotterdam, NL for the past two years now, insisted that I abide by the law of the land. More so as I was visiting him from The United States of America, also known as ‘Tip Heaven’ all over the world.

He further elaborated that Dutch waiters wait on you (when they finally do, that is), like they are doing you a favour. More often than not, they do not like their attention being sought. Flagging them down for the check is extremely difficult, hence one is better off walking up to the cashier to pay one’s bill than waiting for it to arrive at the table.

This behavioural trait, observed unanimously by many a foreigner on Dutch soil, intrigued me enough to probe further. Here’s what I found:

Some people attributed this wait-staff nonchalance to socio-political reasons; of the unwillingness of the Dutch to acknowledge the subservient position of waiting staff. The general belief was that the culture of tipping only fosters a master-slave relationship, ill-suited to this nation where people were meant to be social equals. Some others boil it down to being the natural consequence of a ‘tip-less culture’.

Since the Dutch government requires for all taxes and service charges to be included in the published prices of hotels, restaurants, cafes, nightclubs etc, it is not required of the customer to tip a certain percentage over the total amount on the check. Thus, the locals generally tend to leave behind coins or small change as a tip, if at all.

To me, this issue became the Dutch service industry’s equivalent of ‘What came first – the chicken or the egg?’ Had this culture of scarce or no tips come about because of the general lackadaisical service one experiences here, or was the Dutch waiter perpetually disinterested in serving patrons, because he knew there would be no tip at the end of it anyway?

Where I was travelling from, the United States, leaving a tip at a restaurant was probably as mandatory an aspect of eating out as was paying at the end of a meal. Tipping had flourished in the US as a social institution over the years.

It is common knowledge that American wait-staff make minimum wage and that tipping is used to subsidise their sub-standard pay at the workplace. So effectively, when one dines at a restaurant in the US, whether one is pleased with the service or not, leaving a tip equivalent to at least 15 to 20 per cent of the bill is the norm. This could be argued with, especially as the act of tipping is considered a discretionary one.

Yet most Americans will tell you that tips left behind are usually distributed to multiple employees of the restaurant. So even if your server screwed up your order or you spent half your dinner eating with one hand up trying to eternally vie for your server’s attention, it wouldn’t be fair to penalise the busboy, bartender, food runners, and other employees in the food chain, who depend on this money to make their living.

In fact, it is now commonplace for some American restaurants to add a ‘mandatory tip’, also known as ‘gratuity included’ to their customers’ cheques, especially for larger parties – say, a table of six or more. This notion itself causes quite a stir. For example, would a table of four adults and two babies be considered a table of six, even though the babies only sit at the table, but eat nothing? And is a restaurant justified in imposing a ‘mandatory’ tip on a meal, when essentially the customer should be free to exercise discretion in leaving as little or as much as he or she wishes to?

Compared to the US, most European nations fall somewhere in the ‘no-tip to low-tip’ zone. In most European countries, a flat service charge is usually included in the restaurant bill or the tip amount is most probably built into the menu pricing. Since the restaurant staff here, unlike their American counterparts, are generally well-paid, tips are only considered as a small ‘bonus’ meant to reward great service or for simplicity in rounding the total bill to a convenient number. Or, as I discovered to my surprise, for minding a restaurant toilet. Yes, while one can leave a table without a tip in Europe; good luck trying to leave a toilet without one!

It is not extraordinary for toilets, even those within restaurants to be manned by tip-seeking keepers. I remember getting sent back to my table from a restaurant toilet in Paris once to get some coins for the toilet-keeper’s ‘tip-dish’. That is when it dawned on me – in Europe, while table service seems to come free, toilet-service surely doesn’t. Pay to pee, one must!

In Asia, on the other hand, tipping can be a tricky matter.

In Chinese, Japanese and South Korean cultures, to leave a tip may be considered downright offensive and rude, while at times causing confusion and having the waiter come chasing after you to return the ‘extra money left on the table’.

In Japanese cultures, the act of handling money itself warrants an etiquette – something I’ve only recently learnt through a small episode at the local Japanese grocery store in Singapore. A few weeks ago, I found myself at the receiving end of a long hard stare in my fiscal transaction with an old Japanese female cashier. Somewhere between balancing the baby’s stroller and my multiple shopping bags, I fumbled in my purse and casually put some cash down on her table to pay my bill. It was when she did not pick it up, that it hit me. Something was wrong!

A conversation with a friend later revealed that I had belied the appropriate Japanese etiquette of money give-and-take. I should have been respectfully holding the note, with both my hands and instead of having kept it on the table for her to pick it up, it should directly have been handed over to her. Money kept on a table is only considered appropriate in the Japanese culture if placed within an envelope. And that, if at all, is the only way the Japanese would accept a tip.

Since then, having groomed myself into this cash-exchange etiquette, I now feel a pleasant vibe coming my way  each time I shop at the Japanese store. Following it up with a slight bow at the end almost always gets me a smile with a happy acknowledgement in return.

Almost all of the remaining SE Asian countries, as I have noticed on my recent travels, do not expect tips at restaurants. Although the influx of Westerners and global exposure is soon changing that, especially in the high-end restaurants in big touristy cities, it is still socially acceptable to not tip at all or leave small change/coins that one wants to get rid of, with the check.

In Singapore, for instance, one is not expected to tip at a restaurant, although one does end up paying a 10 per cent service charge, 4 per cent GST (Goods and Services Tax) and 1 per cent government tax on the bill. The service charge ends up in the owner’s pocket, from where it trickles down into the pockets of the restaurant workers, thus rendering the act of tipping by customers a redundant aspect of eating out here.

In India, tipping at restaurants has more recently come of age. I still have memories of coins being left behind in the ‘saunf’ container at Udipi restaurants, when I was growing up in the 80’s.

To the desi lower middle class, the concept of tipping might still mean leaving behind some ‘chhutta paisa’, but for the noveau-riche and upwardly mobile, it is becoming an integral aspect of the dining-out experience. In fact, one can often find examples of restaurant regulars tipping in advance to make sure they are well taken care of. TIPS does mean To Insure Prompt Service, after all.

A classic stereotypical example here would be of the global desi; one who has moved back after having lived abroad for a few years or the Non Resident Indian who visits once in a while and insists on tipping a credible percentage of the bill at a restaurant.

Having been there and done that, I have often been subjected to a “Don’t spoil it for the rest of us,” lecture by the residents (mostly my parents and/or friends living in India). A recent chat with a fellow NRI friend revealed that she had been through a similar experience, when she once tried to let a rickshawwallah in Hyderabad keep the change or left an unusually high tip at a local restaurant. Her argument was that the sum of money, while relatively insignificant to her, might be of a substantial value to the receiver. Both of us discussed how our generous gratuity-giving habits have landed us in trouble on our trips back to India. At various points, we have been accused of at least one of the following – driving up local inflation, causing a temporary imbalance in the everyday way of life and/or creating an increase in expectations for all travellers who follow, only because we were gracious tippers.

To all those desi skeptic friends of mine, I have just one thing to say:

T-I-P-S spelt backwards is S-P-I-T. If you spare the waiter of the former, the next time you visit, he’s going to make sure he serves you the latter. In this case, quite literally, what goes around, comes around! And that might not be worth it at all!

* ‘Tipping is not a city in China’ is one of many smart and quirky inscriptions found on tips jars all over the world, reminding customers that tips are welcome. Ironically though, tipping is not a custom in China.

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com and confesses that once a thrifty tipper, she is now a generous one, thanks to her husband.

(Picture courtesy tippingresearch.com)

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Americanisms and I

How can you blow your nose in public? But in America, it’s a habit much better than sniffling in public.
by Shweyta Mudgal

First he went all “Aaaachooooo…”, turning to sneeze in his shirt sleeve, being courteous and all. He even followed it up nicely with a prompt, apologetic, “Excuse me.” But then he went and undid the good manner with a big, loud, rather obstreperous act of blowing his nose in public. Thankfully, he used a tissue, so we didn’t see anything, but we heard it all. He may as well have wrapped up the meeting with a finger stuffed up his nose trying to unclog his nasal passage.

I found this behaviour uncouth and just didn’t get it. How could my boss, a higher-up in the ranks, well-travelled, super-cultured, highly professionally-decorated, Ivy-leaguer and partner in one of the top ten architectural firms in the world, be caught blowing his nose in public? An act that you would think, is better off conducted in the private confines of a restroom, far from public eye or ear.

While I tried hard to mask my disgust, there was nothing remotely perturbing about this public-mucus-evacuation-coupled-with-unwelcome-snorts to anyone else in this American office. Everyone who had heard him went about their business as though nothing had happened. An American colleague later clarified that she, like most of her other childhood buddies, was taught, that sniffling is a bad habit, hence one should blow their nose ASAP to avoid the same.

Fair enough. Although quite unfair on the ears that have to go through the torture, I must say.

I figured that would probably make me the odd one out, in this primarily American office, reacting differently to this Snot Issue. Until my fresh-off-the-boat Japanese coworker showed up at my desk, nodding his head in mega disapproval at what would be considered socially offensive behaviour in his native Japan.

This dichotomy of good and bad Manners, which changes from one culture to the other all over the world, has always intrigued me.

In my books, blowing a snot wad in public, which is an across-the-board, commonplace occurence in the US, can safely be classified as an Americanism; i.e a trait typical of an American.

Yet another noteworthy American-ism that first took me aback was: sitting in an office with the feet up on the desk. Usually prevalent among those higher-up on the ladder, this is not an unheard-of phenomenon in the American workplace. There have even been quite a few POTUS (Presidents of The United States) caught on camera in this act; resting their feet on the Oval office desk during meetings with the Chief of Staff, etc.

While in some cultures (Thai, Korean, Arab, specifically) it is considered inappropriate and disrespectful to show others the bottoms of one’s shoes, for most Indians (especially devout Hindus) this would clearly amount to blasphemy. For India is a land where every thing is of some divine value. Work is worship; as is almost everything else. Even a mistaken brush of the foot with any animate or inanimate object, entails an immediate obeisance with folded hands to make amends, lest the Hindu pantheon of Gods unfurl its fury on you.

However, seen from an American boss’s perspective, this act of kicking one’s feet up on a desk at the end of a long workday is meant to insinuate his friendly, warm, ‘one-of-you-guys’ image with the subordinates.

Most Americanisms that have walked into my life over the last decade have become an inherent aspect of my overall persona now; some knowingly, others subconsciously.

Some of these Americanisms have been behavioural:

“Excuse me”ing my way carefully through packed public spaces or saying “I am sorry” in the event of a slightest brush past a random shoulder. Both of which prove to be completely useless in some parts of the world, yet work as perfect peacemakers in others.

Some have been verbal:

Greeting most people with a “Hey, how’s it going?” or applauding the baby’s smallest achievement with a “Good job!” every now and then. (Hardcore American lingo, yet now commonly used all over the world.)

Some Americanisms seemed plausible, right from the start:

Referring to everyone by their first names, irrespective of age, especially at the office. What a great leveller! The liberation one feels, being on a first-name basis with one’s colleagues, old or young, is far more satisfying than having to carry around the presumptuous baggage of colonial remnants such as “Sir”, “Madam” or a “ji” at the end of their name, still prevalent in the quintessential Indian workplace.

Some Americanisms surprised me:

Having to be politically and religiously correct and wish everyone “Happy holidays!” over “Merry Christmas”? That just didn’t sound right after all those years of convent schooling. Yet I saw the reason behind it and went with the flow.

Some Americanisms I conveniently switch in and out of:

The accent, for instance, which turns on and off like a switch, depending on who I am talking to. Some words though, have stuck forever; ‘Schedule’ will never be ‘shed-yule’ again, just as ‘Water’ won’t sound right without rolling the R in it.

And then there are some Americanisms that the cultured desi in me still stubbornly resists from integrating into my system:

Such as blowing my nose in public or putting my feet up on the desk!

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com. And yes, she does blow her nose and put up her feet on the desk when no one’s looking!

(Featured image courtesy bestandworst.com) 

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