It’s weird how people can simply look at you and jump to conclusions. Not negative, always, but conclusions. You’re an Indian woman, so you must be really nice and cultured. You’re an American man, so you must have slept with at least a dozen women. Things like that. And that’s not all bad either. I don’t mind being called nice, and I’m sure most men won’t take offense to being regarded as studs when they know that in reality, the only way they can get a woman is if she’s totally drunk and half passed out.

Anyway, so I’m walking down the street, minding my own business. Well, for the most part, since I do like chatting with random people and asking for directions and saying things like, “God! Are books really that expensive here or are you just making a goddamn fool out of me?” I shop, I explore, it’s a busy market, and I’m the only foreigner around, surprisingly.

But what gets me is this: every DVD guy I pass, and I do mean every, stops me and goes, “Sista! You like romance movie! I have romance movie!”

Is it written on my face?!

I mean, yeah, sure, I’m a chick. We like romance movies. But I’m known to enjoy a fair share of gratuitous sex and violence. And I think Bruce Lee is kinda cute and can totally kick ass. Okay, sure, I haven’t seen any of his movies, if you must put too fine a point on it, but still. I could be. I could be that woman who has many different interests that aren’t just limited to romance movies. I mean, come on, seriously.

But do these silly DVD seller men know this? Apparently not. Because they keep shoving these romance movies in my face.

Is it because I’m a woman? Is it because I’m a foreigner? Is it because I’m Indian? What is it about me that gives the impression that I must like romance movies and romance movies only?

I’m just about out of the DVD market, so I pick up some more cool odds and ends. That’s when the second phase starts.

“You really like Ghana, don’t you?” is a question at least three people ask me in one form or the other.

Of course! I love Ghana. I’m going to be quite sad when I leave. It feels like home. I’m happy and comfortable here, not judged for my choices, and it feels like I belong. It’s great. And Accra is such a vibrant city, such wonderful and friendly people, such a rich blend of culture and modernity. I love Ghana.

But, and I ask you again, is it written on my face?

I walk through town stunned by these questions. No one’s ever asked me either one before, and I wonder what it is about me that makes people think I’m a romance freak who’s really enjoying her stay in Ghana.

I buy myself some chocolate pie-like things (marshmallow sandwich biscuit coated with chocolate, if you must know), two books, and come back home to look at my loot for the day: A DVD that I’ve been clutching to my chest all afternoon which has sixteen love classics and a kissing couple on the cover, and my colored-like-a-Ghanaian-flag Ghana wristband.