Of Mixing and Matching... People.

So there we were. An Armenian, a Lebanese, a Palestinian-Canadian and yours truly, having lunch at a Chinese Restaurant, in a Middle Eastern country. Add the Bengali steward, Philipino cashier and the Chinese chef, it was kinda U.N. assembly, but in a much smaller scale.

The Armenian hates the Turks, naturally because of the Armenian genocide. Born to a refugee family that migrated to Lebanon, he is married to a Philipino girl and they have a little daughter who’s just about 18 months.

The mini-U.N. conversation leads from genocide to refugees and how the communities get mingled and the mixed-race marriages take place all over the world. Kids born to mixed-race families are supposedly genetically stronger, smarter and prettier than the pure-breds, and there is an increasing number of these wonderful creatures overtaking the world.

I mean, creatures like Adriana Lima overtaking the world. How wonderful it would be!

Few generations down the line, there would be Mr Meatloaf Contests instead of Miss Universe, me thinks, thinking along the lines of conversation.

My Lebanese friend wants to know if the kid looks like a Philipino and if she’s got chinky eyes. “Nope, she’s a pretty little Armenian girl” comes the answer, with some proprietary air. Perhaps the genetic-cocktail didn’t mix well in this instance.

“Everyone is going to look like either Chinese or Indian, sooner or later...” quips my Canadian friend, with a cheeky grin on his face. POP goes my Brazilian, Victoria’s Secret thought bubble.