Yarn Shopping

Blatant stereotypes. We all make them, no matter how accepting or progressive.

Few are probably aware that I have taken up a rather unusual hobby for a man in his 20’s – knitting. It came about a couple of years ago when I read a story about a movement in the United States that involved young people getting together to knit and talk – a stitch ‘n bitch. Having crocheted as a child with my grandmother and as a new resident to Kansas City looking to meet people, the idea had some appeal. Eric gave me my first how-to-book, needles, and carrying case while a friend from my first job in Kansas City at the Federal Reserve provide some coaching and encouragement. At that point in my life, the theory of knitting was better than the practice as I became very busy with changing job responsibilities and an ever increasing community role. My needles would sit idle in their box through several moves and eventually wind up in HK.

Our first week in HK was a busy one with all the unpacking, connecting of services, and attempted new schedules, but during that time I ran across a posting on a website for expatriots for a HK stitch ‘n bitch. Intrigued, I contacted the group leader and was welcomed to attend an upcoming meeting. Since that time, stitch ‘n bitch has been my most consistent extracurricular HK activity. I am enjoying re-learning the process and making connections with some very nice people – two of which are Midwesterners from Chicago. In what I consider one of the most telling signs of HK’s acceptance of all, I have received few looks of curiosity or notice while attending a stitch ‘n bitch, which are regularly held in busy coffee shops.

Our quiet group on a recent Saturday afternoon.

I cannot say that Portugal has been as quickly accepting. While I haven’t actually pulled out the yarn and needle on the train, tram, or the pasterleria, I have purchased yarn and materials for a new project that I plan to start when I return to HK. Surly not. A mistake. What does he think he is doing? The faces have said it all. Even as I am purchasing materials, well beyond the point of accidental entry, the women have continued to treat me gingerly. I am a cow out of pasture. Perhaps I am the hundredth American male to purchase yarn from them that week, but I suspect not.

Do you think I made the dinner table conversation?