How Old Are You Again?

I've always known I didn't look particularly old, but I've never thought that I looked especially young.  Obviously this can change a bit-I look younger clean shaven than when I'm sporting my beard; in college I looked much younger with shorter hair than longer.  But never in the US did I encounter the type of abject shock over my age that I get here on a weekly basis.

For example, my softball team didn't know how to take it when they learned I was 28.  Most of them just had mouth's agape, but some insisted I misspoke and meant to say 18 instead of 28 or 'iki' (two) instead of 'sekkiz' (eight).  Some even tried to bargain with me on the number asking for me to shave just a couple years off the age.

Or, in my high school some of the 11th formers have gotten a little casual with me, even going so far to slap me on the back.  This is shockingly inappropriate in an Azeri school situation and I was able to deal with it but it wasn't enough for my counterpart who railed against the class a few days later.  They were incredulous over the fact I was a teacher and insisted they meant no disrespect, they just wanted to hang out with the exchange student from America.

Worse still from camp this summer.  Another volunteer and I were speaking with one of the mothers of a camper.  She casually asked if I were the volunteer's son.  After getting over her shock and suppressing a throat grabbing instinct she was able to take a little relish in the mother's speechlessness of being informed that I was actually older than her.

I don't know why this culture especially finds me so young, but some of these instances so outrageously misplace my age that it can't be anything but amusing.