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Gripping the metal seatback with both hands to keep from banging into the man standing next to me, I silently cursed American culture—and some tourists in particular—for making it more likely that I’d be harassed during my travels.

The problem with this dichotomous thinking became clear when I decided to treat myself to a massage.

After hearing from several travelers that female massage therapists were too gentle, I found a masseur who seemed professional, trustworthy, and capable of softening the knots in my back.

It was Sampath and his friends chewing betel leaf and passing around a bottle of arrack, Sri Lanka’s dangerously smooth coconut liquor.

As Sampath served me tea the next morning, he said, “I wanted to invite you to join us yesterday, but I know my friends try to hug you and kiss you. Men here, they see a white girl, they think bad things.” He scrunched up his nose.

It would take me at least that long to walk back to my guesthouse, but I wasn’t too worried about being accosted by demons on the way. ” I asked Sarasi, a 19-year-old college student I’d met while walking around Kandy Lake in central Sri Lanka.

She’d asked me if she could practice her English with me; we spent most of the next week together.

Soon after leaving Kandy to travel around the hill country, I had an interesting conversation with a guesthouse owner named Sampath, a smiley bachelor with the sinewy body required to carry tourists’ packs on backcountry treks.

While I was reading in his garden one afternoon, a group of red-faced men in sarongs gathered nearby and belted out raucous renditions of folk songs.

“Boys are allowed to stay out as late as they want? Boys have no problem.” “That’s not fair.” “No, is not fair,” Sarasi said slowly, washing her rice-covered hands in the bowl of water on the table.

“But I think is not good if girls are outside at night. But only if I want to.” Sarasi tilted her head and let her jaw fall open, pressing her tongue against the back of her crooked upper teeth for a moment before she spoke.

Because if boys see us, they try to grab us.” “That’s awful,” I said, letting the ball of curry I was about to eat fall out of my hand. “But I think is normal to be raped in your country.” “No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head vigorously.