doppelgangers deluxe

Travel can be a real eye-opener. (It can also be a real eye-closer, particularly at the end of it when you get a few nights of crappy hostel-sleep interrupted a thousand times by an impressive variety of languages whose common element is that they are being spoken far too loudly by drunk backpackers after a night of Guinness overload, and then live six hours of your life all over again by flying west, and then drive four hours from JFK to Vermont, and then try to go to work the next day. Just hypothetically speaking.)

One thing I've learned through travel, that has been reinforced on just about every trip I've taken not to mention nearer to home, is that I am, apparently, The Average-Looking Person. Everywhere I go people a) think we've met before, b) tell me I look exactly like their friend's sister or their cousin's girlfriend or their boss' mother-in-law's dentist's assistant, and/or c) ask me if part of my ancestry is from the country we're in or the country they came from.

I think this is actually pretty cool. I mean, for one thing, I'm comfortable with my lack of stunning beauty, but I figure that I also can't be too notably ugly if I look like, well, everyone. No one has told me that I look like their dog or their leperous mailman (not that they probably would actually tell me, but I take comfort nonetheless).

It's also nice to know that I fit in pretty well most places. I'd like to think that this is a product of not only my outward appearance but also my concerted effort to refrain from engaging in Ugly American behavior, which includes assuming that SHOUTING IN VEEEEERRRY SLOOOOOOOWWW ENGLISH will make oneself understood by non-English speakers and being the first to speak (loudly, of course) in any conversation.

It also includes the charming practice I saw all over Ireland of giving money to buskers, museum entry collections, and other good causes in the form of the U.S. dollar. We're so generous and excited about your lovely violin-playing or incredible museum exhibits that we'll give you a crappy exchange rate and more work! Because we're too damn lazy to pay you in YOUR CURRENCY.

These were, no doubt, the same people who I saw yelling at the Irish National Museum staff for closing the aging staircase for a safety inspection rather than risk it collapsing under visitors' weight, because damn it! We came all this way to appreciate the artifacts and mourn the passing of ancient civilizations! Now what are we supposed to do - McDonalds doesn't open for another hour!

I do hope, in fact I'd use the words "fervently pray" (and I don't use those words lightly, believe you me), that I bear no resemblance to such people, but rather much more to the relatively quiet, respectful travelers of the world. If you want to know what we look like, look for us walking around for hours and hours, often alone or with just one or two other people, gazing silently at beautiful views or impressively old buildings, perusing the stacks at the local second-hand bookshop or forcing down tea with copious milk and sugar because, while it actually tastes fairly disgusting, it's what the locals do (I never did force down a rasher, though).

And if that doesn't help, I guess you could just look for people who look like me. They are, apparently, everywhere.