Am I Russian, Maybe French?

There are a ton of tourists in Bali. And after not seeing any white people for six weeks, they seemed so out of place. I was a tourist too, I suppose, but I kept thinking to myself that I somehow had more "rights" to be there. I felt more connected to the Indonesians than these Westerners, or at least I didn't want to be associated with the tourists. A vast majority of them were overweight, especially compared to the Indonesians I have been surrounded by the last month and a half. They appeared arrogant, strutting about in their expensive clothing and sunglasses. I was reminded though, that like it or not, I am also a foreigner. People would stare at me whenever we stopped at a red light, walking down the street, or laying on the beach. They always want to take pictures with me too. When I was laying out on the beach, I would notice people pointing cameras in my direction. Or do they think I don't notice when someone is posing for a picture a few meters from me, the opposite direction from the ocean? It gets annoying, I have to say.

Actually, people never thought I was American, which I found surprising. Mars, the surfer dude, when he first came up to me:

—You are Russian?
—Me? No.
—Yes, I think you are Russian. You speak Russian?
—Nyet.
—You speak Russian!
—Nyet. I am from the USA.

Haha I think I confused him, but it was rather funny.

Another time, a native thought I was French. He asked me if I was from France, and said that I looked French.

One afternoon in Bali was spent at Benoa beach, the prime location for all sorts of water sports. Ocha and I did the flying fish and banana boat. Both are inflatables pulled by a speedboat. Launching off a wave on the flying fish, we were sent high into the sky and glided for a time. It was thrilling and very fun. The banana boat was a tube that Ocha and I and 2 natives sat on. We purposefully fell off twice, which was also a lot of fun.