"May I have a photo?"
So we're standing at the Red Fort in Delhi. It's really more of a palace/castle/fort combo. It used to be guilded in gold. Now it's red brick. And this Indian man comes up to ask for a photo. Naturally I oblige. And then the photographer who took the first man's pic wants a pic. No problem. Then the group of 3 women in full Sari's wants a photo. Then another. No problem. Then the old man. Then the 3 kids.... Then the...
You get the idea. And it isn't just there. And it isn't just once. It has happened AT LEAST 30 times since I got here. Sometimes people try to sneak the photo by standing awkwardly next to me as their husband/wife/friend snaps a pic. Usually they politely ask. Sometimes they'll ask about "What country?" but often it's just the photo and a smiling thank you as they walk off.
But wait, there's more...
People stare. Walking up to me on the street, they flat out stare at me. No smile. No expression other than staring. AT a cafe: sitting at the next table staring over. On the subway. At an intersection. All over. Sometimes I'll smile and they'll smile back. Sometimes I'll wave, say hello. They'll respond in kind. (Or in the case of the teenage girls, they'll giggle and walk on.)
I think I know what it will be like when I finally frickin' "make it" in Hollywood. Or at least when some people might say "Hey, you're that dude that made that movie I love. Can I get your pic?" Reguardless, I can relate to being recognizable... if not famous. IT ain't like I'm Tom Cruise here. But it's like I'm "That actor you recognize on TV but don't know his name.
And if you ask why this happens. The answer I've been given from Indian friends is: You're not Indian.
It reminds me of Eminem's "Real Slim Shady": "You act like you've never seen a white person before..." and in a lot of cases that might actually be the case. There aren't a lot of tourists in comparrison to how many folks there are here.
The only place many Indian's might have seen a pale, blue eyed guy like me is is in movie. And in those movies the white folks often speak Hindi. (Which an Australian girl, Mel, I met has been asked numerous time). (We were at a Mosque and this woman HANDED MEL HER BABY. Yep. Gotta get that pic!) If anyone has any more info about this phenomenom or any other stories about it, I'd love to hear them.
So....
Saturday, after the rainy morning, I went to the aforementioned Red Fort and then headed into the absolute madness that is Old Delhi. You see, Old Delhi is the India you've probably seen pictures of. The on where it's wall to wall people. Where cars, bicycle rickshaws and auto rickshaws are jammed so close to each other that you are barely moving and can reach out and touch your neighbor. Where the alleys are mazes full of shops selling.... everything. There's the tech district, the fabric district, the wedding card district (yep!). And of course the spice district (No good trip to India would be complete without a bicycle rickshaw driver taking you there even though it was WAY out of the way of where we wanted to go. And then he wanted more money cause it took longer. Sorry my friend, we didn't ask to go and still paid you double). There's no food anywhere, other than street food, so for 66 cents I had two tasty tins of chickpeas. And got a "Welcome to India" from the friendly owner.
The whole thing reminded me of the old Medina's in Morocco. The only difference is there was no hastle to buy. In fact, most shop owners just looked at us like we were a curiousity. And would always smile if we smiled first. Indian's like to haggle, and in fact it's pretty much excpected on almost everything. But it's no where near as ferocious as Morocco. It's much friendlier. Sure, in the end they want to make as much as possible. But they do it differently. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure it'll come up again in the emails.
Then, that night after dinner. We were thinking of going to see a Bollywood flick in the theaters (Assuming we could find one instead of Fast and Furious 7. Because it's showing EVERYWHERE. In Hindi or English. Check your listings.). So we're thinking of seeing a flick and then.... oooohhhh, um, gotta use the restroom.
Yep! My first full day in India and BAMMMO! Delhi Belly! Woooooooooo!
But after a few episodes that evening, I popped one of my antibiotics and took that shit out. (Pun intended?)
(Come on, did you think a trip would happen without at least ONE story about shitting my brains out.!)
Next stop...Chandigarh...
Rock on
Craigo
So we're standing at the Red Fort in Delhi. It's really more of a palace/castle/fort combo. It used to be guilded in gold. Now it's red brick. And this Indian man comes up to ask for a photo. Naturally I oblige. And then the photographer who took the first man's pic wants a pic. No problem. Then the group of 3 women in full Sari's wants a photo. Then another. No problem. Then the old man. Then the 3 kids.... Then the...
You get the idea. And it isn't just there. And it isn't just once. It has happened AT LEAST 30 times since I got here. Sometimes people try to sneak the photo by standing awkwardly next to me as their husband/wife/friend snaps a pic. Usually they politely ask. Sometimes they'll ask about "What country?" but often it's just the photo and a smiling thank you as they walk off.
But wait, there's more...
People stare. Walking up to me on the street, they flat out stare at me. No smile. No expression other than staring. AT a cafe: sitting at the next table staring over. On the subway. At an intersection. All over. Sometimes I'll smile and they'll smile back. Sometimes I'll wave, say hello. They'll respond in kind. (Or in the case of the teenage girls, they'll giggle and walk on.)
I think I know what it will be like when I finally frickin' "make it" in Hollywood. Or at least when some people might say "Hey, you're that dude that made that movie I love. Can I get your pic?" Reguardless, I can relate to being recognizable... if not famous. IT ain't like I'm Tom Cruise here. But it's like I'm "That actor you recognize on TV but don't know his name.
And if you ask why this happens. The answer I've been given from Indian friends is: You're not Indian.
It reminds me of Eminem's "Real Slim Shady": "You act like you've never seen a white person before..." and in a lot of cases that might actually be the case. There aren't a lot of tourists in comparrison to how many folks there are here.
The only place many Indian's might have seen a pale, blue eyed guy like me is is in movie. And in those movies the white folks often speak Hindi. (Which an Australian girl, Mel, I met has been asked numerous time). (We were at a Mosque and this woman HANDED MEL HER BABY. Yep. Gotta get that pic!) If anyone has any more info about this phenomenom or any other stories about it, I'd love to hear them.
So....
Saturday, after the rainy morning, I went to the aforementioned Red Fort and then headed into the absolute madness that is Old Delhi. You see, Old Delhi is the India you've probably seen pictures of. The on where it's wall to wall people. Where cars, bicycle rickshaws and auto rickshaws are jammed so close to each other that you are barely moving and can reach out and touch your neighbor. Where the alleys are mazes full of shops selling.... everything. There's the tech district, the fabric district, the wedding card district (yep!). And of course the spice district (No good trip to India would be complete without a bicycle rickshaw driver taking you there even though it was WAY out of the way of where we wanted to go. And then he wanted more money cause it took longer. Sorry my friend, we didn't ask to go and still paid you double). There's no food anywhere, other than street food, so for 66 cents I had two tasty tins of chickpeas. And got a "Welcome to India" from the friendly owner.
The whole thing reminded me of the old Medina's in Morocco. The only difference is there was no hastle to buy. In fact, most shop owners just looked at us like we were a curiousity. And would always smile if we smiled first. Indian's like to haggle, and in fact it's pretty much excpected on almost everything. But it's no where near as ferocious as Morocco. It's much friendlier. Sure, in the end they want to make as much as possible. But they do it differently. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure it'll come up again in the emails.
Then, that night after dinner. We were thinking of going to see a Bollywood flick in the theaters (Assuming we could find one instead of Fast and Furious 7. Because it's showing EVERYWHERE. In Hindi or English. Check your listings.). So we're thinking of seeing a flick and then.... oooohhhh, um, gotta use the restroom.
Yep! My first full day in India and BAMMMO! Delhi Belly! Woooooooooo!
But after a few episodes that evening, I popped one of my antibiotics and took that shit out. (Pun intended?)
(Come on, did you think a trip would happen without at least ONE story about shitting my brains out.!)
Next stop...Chandigarh...
Rock on
Craigo
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