Tonight was my first taste of the European meat market. No, I wasn't out shopping for cured meats and seafood—I was at Java, the same upscale nightclub where 50 Cent recently threw his post concert after party.

It was the typical club fare—Boys in dress shirts tucked into even tighter jeans, white studded belts and pointed faux hawks, throw in the odd businessman or two coming from a late evening of after-work drinks (we are in Geneva after all), along with an array of women in various states of dress/undress.

While I could manage the usual cat calls in the mingling area outside the club's entrance, I found myself immediately brought back to my days in Asia when I heard the first shout of

"Hey! Where you from?".

While my gut told me that these men were more interested in getting a reaction out of me, as opposed to a real discussion about my Chinese ancestry... I was quite surprised (although not impressed) that many of them would then attempt to guess my ethnicity.

"Philippines?" "Thailand?" "Japan"?

Not a single one could guess that I was from China.

It's something that will take some getting used to as I've been warned that European men tend to be a lot more forward with their sexual advances. I'm quite capable of handling myself, and being rude when I need to be, so I'm not too worried about things getting out of hand at this point. I suppose it's just a matter of navigating between strangers that have a genuine interest in my background, and others that are just betting I'll respond to a "NI HAO" from across the street.