Skin tax, being white in dark society

I felt sleek and sophisticated as I boarded the plane to fly to Indonesia to see my son spiritually united with his future bride – then I met the China Air flight attendants. Tall – for oriental women – they all appeared to wear about a size two uniform, a perpetual smile and the most courteous, professional manner I have ever seen. They offered trays of water, tea or coffee and wonderful four-course meals before they pulled the shades shut and turned off the lights for the flight half way around the world. At the end of 15-16 hours of travel, I carefully bent my way out from under the overhead baggage compartment, gathered up my carry-on luggage and looked back through the now well-lit plane. Every one behind (and in front of me) had black hair and trudged off the plane without concern for the over-head storage unit.
“Feeling a bit out of place?” my husband asked as he hitched his canvas bag over his shoulder.
Definitely. Especially that night at the church gathering to honor the couple where I began most conversations, “Do you speak English?” and fought jet lag to focus on brief translations during the sermon in Indonesian.
The next morning, I watched as a petite young woman refused to fix the hair on that tall, white, graying brunette. Eventually another beautician reluctantly accepted the assignment. At the ceremony, every song was sung in both English and Indonesian. Familiar choruses were just plain fun, jazzed up under the fingers of the keyboard artist. We smiled gratefully when the speaker told us the sermon on marriage would be in English – which meant half the audience would not understand much of what was said.
The next day we embarked on a three day journey through the country with a college-aged driver and members of the Indonesian family. That first evening we realized the disadvantage of being a stranger in a foreign land. Back in the car, our Indonesian tour guides told us, “they doubled the price when they saw you.”
We dubbed it the skin tax and learned to live with it. Before checking into the hotel, my husband, who usually makes hotel arrangements, sat back and told our escorts, “I’ll stay here and keep the price down.” Using that technique we stayed in five star hotels for $15 to $35 per night per room.
The only time my husband objected to the bartering system was when the policia pulled over the driver for a traffic violation, and settled for a two dollar gift to share with his partner. As he waited for the bartering to be finalized, my husband asked, “Do you think it would help if I went over there?” The resounding chorus of “NO!” in response reminded him that the skin tax was still in effect.
Sometimes the skin tax was exacted in discreet and open stares as we entered a country or city restaurant. We were the only real strangers in that country which was not our own.
On our way home, we had a 22 hour lay-over in Taipei. In the elegant room at CKS hotel, I slumped on the bed and said, “After this week, I feel like a beached, white whale.” My shorter, olive-skinned husband had no idea what I meant until we took a short tour of the westernized city of Taipei. Later, he told me, “After we walked past a couple men, they made some loud comment, that probably translated “WOW! Look at the big, tall, white woman!”
I lumbered onto the China Air plane for our 15 hour flight home, waved the window shades at the waving ground crew and slept my way around the world. At JFK airport in New York City, just looking at the variety of colors, shapes and sizes of people surrounding me, I could feel myself shrinking back to my normal size.
It really was great to be home again.
(Joan Hershberger is a reporter at the News-Times.)